Sunday, March 31 Day +10 - Part II

I wanted to get the other post out there, because we have a part II.  

Long story short (because you KNOW this will be long...) Andy is in the hospital.  We tried our darndest to keep him outpatient.  And we lost.  I don't know what that all means.  I left him there at around 8:30 PM last night and I'll get back up there after I get Oliver on the bus this morning.  

Long Story Long - 

Andy woke up from his nap and after about 30-45 minutes, we took his temperature.  It was 100.4.  My stomach dropped, but we assumed it was just the thermometer.  So I went up to grab another one. 100.2.  Shit.  What about a different one.  100.3.  OK.  One more.  97.2.  (Clearly, we need to throw away that thermometer).  

We called the nurse line on his bracelet.  The one we swore we would call if anything...such as this...would happen.  Three nurses later, they told us to go to the 'Main Entrance' of Froedtert and someone from transport would meet us there.  

OK - can I digress for a minute? (Yes.  My blog, I make the rules).  Froedtert is massive.  And it's all under construction.  Finding the main entrance in the dark, rain was terrible.  And the main entrance...NOT like the main entrance of the cancer center.  And it's a tad chaotic.  And I wanted my Cancer Center people.  

Turns out we only went to the main entrance because everything else was closed - they weaved and wined us around the hospital and we ended back in the Cancer Center.  His temp was 99.2.  DDDDDDAAAANG IT!  We shouldn't have come in (I KNOW that's not the right answer, but it's how I felt).  They started running all the tests - I should clarify - they ran an infectious disease panel. At first, we were under the impression that Andy would be able to go home while we wait for the tests to come back.  How young and naive we were.  

All. The. Tests.

I stole his bed when he went for x-rays.  They tried putting me in the crappy seat!

And yet...not that Naive.  Because as Andy was getting 'checked into' his room, I navigated my way back to the car to get Andy's bag he quickly packed before coming to the hospital.  

I don't know what I feel.  I'm not terrified because we've been told a million times he could spike a fever and would need to get admitted - no questions asked.  There are things they can do for him.  

I think I'm sad.  I'm mad.  I'm frustrated.  I'm disappointed.  He wanted to be home.  I wanted him to be home.  I've disinfected every part of this house for more than two weeks.  I've washed sheets.  I've washed towels.  He's slept.  He's drank.  He's ate.  We've washed hands until they are dry and cracked.  We feel SO defeated.  

Leaving the hospital last night was not nearly as hard as leaving the hospital on October 30, but it was pretty dang tough.  That guy has fought SO hard.  And done SO much.  And given up SO much.  And this is the reward?  This is the thanks?  The ONE thing he asked for during this process.  

So.  Now what?  I don't really know the answer to that question.  I guess for now I get Oliver on the bus.  Pack up the things Andy asked for. And head up to the hospital.  Just like I did on October 31.  And we figure out what our next steps are.  

He has the best attitude.  Always.