From My Perceptive

The first email from my brother-in-law, Darryl, written sterilely contained no alarm, no major concern, no dire urgency. He apologized for not writing sooner. Like the scientist he is, the tone was matter of fact, as if he had just concluded an experiment and summarized his observations:

After ~1.5 weeks of diarrhea, Jen was admitted to the hospital and is fighting a nasty Clostridium difficile infection. The CT scan shows massive inflammation of the large intestine. She has a mild fever and is very uncomfortable - menses is not helping - but hopefully the i.v. metronidazole will start clearing the C diff soon. She has not slept much in over a week, so her tolerance/patience is wearing thin.

[Jen] Still beautiful, just a bit frazzled.

Not being a medical person, I googled C-diff. Went straight to the Mayo Clinic’s website. Dad had had been visiting me in Hawaii and I told him what was going on and how serious a C-diff infection can be. Even fatal. We were both very concerned. We called and that day was the last of what I would call a good day for the next week and a half. It seemed like an eternity.

There is a six hour time difference between Hawaii and the East Coast. That means lots of mile and the Pacific Ocean. Leaving Hawaii is not something you do on a whim. To compound the separation my sister, Robin, who normally is just 3 hours away from our little sister was scheduled to visit Hawaii. We discussed cancelling her trip here, but realized our little sister needed rest, not visitors.

Over the next couple of days Jen’s condition didn’t worsen, but the lack of sleep, discomfort and dehydration sapped her physically and mentally. She disengaged. When Dad and I called she was too tired to talk or unwilling. Robin had made a quick visit before flying out to Hawaii and found Jen so weak she made little effort to open her eyes.

Things like this are not suppose to happen to the youngest of five siblings. Being a God-fearing Christian I prayed. I asked my friends to pray. I prayed in private, lying in bed at night talking with God about His awesome powers and unknown plans. I asked a prayer team member at church for prayers. She prayed with Dad and me for my sister’s recovery and God’s hand to be shown to the attending doctors and nurses. At that moment I knew all would be fine. Recovery, on its way.

Although the next couple of days were dark I knew God’s healing hand was on my sister. The long days and nights were taking a toll on my brother-in-law. He tended to his wife’s most personal and intimate needs. He wrote…

I know, I know. Last night I slept. I'm headed home in a few minutes. Staying here overnight is torture. Imagine how the poor girl feels – 2.5 weeks of diarrhea - 7 days in the hospital. She hasn't had a full night's rest for 2.5 weeks. The little naps are not enough - the episodes of diarrhea and cleanup can last for hours and it just wipes her out. But she cannot lay in it. It's unacceptable to me (and should be to them) and puts her at risk to get other infections. So if I'm here and they don't come right away, I'm doing it. The problem is I can't be here all the time – I need to sleep. She kept the PCA busy all night last night. There was only one PCA on the floor today – it's not enough. I've spoken with the doctors and nurse manager about it and told them that I do not want her lying in diarrhea. I was practically crying this morning, because her bottom is so raw and sore, and they want to use a face cloth to clean her. "Here let ME wipe YOUR butt with 60 grit and see how YOU feel. And you know I'm not going to use the same gentle approach on your butt that I use on mine." You ever been sandblasted? I have. Turns you into raw hamburger. It hurt so much that I can't even remember the pain from getting blasted and from the cleaning I got at the ER. You know how they treat it? They scrub it – like road burn. Maybe it's similar to how women feel when they give birth – note "maybe". Point is it's tender; treat with care. Treat as if it was the most precious thing you ever held. Right, nobody else can do that. I'm lying in that bed, not the PCA or the RN or the MD.

I thanked God for Darryl and I thanked Darryl for being there for my sister. If he flinched we never knew it. He pulled strings. He begged. He demanded. And maybe he did cry. The only thing I wanted to do was hug him. But I was 5000 miles away.

And finally, slowly, my sister responded. She spent sixteen days in the hospital. (A week and a half on the couch before being admitted.) After two cat scans, two sets of x-rays and a sygmoidoscopy, zillions of blood samples and countless IVs for fluids, antibiotics, nutrition and drugs she was well enough to be rolled out of the hospital.

All I heard was ka-ching!

Maybe this is where I make a statement about ObamaCare and health care in the United States. Except one case, good or bad, doesn’t paint an accurate picture. What appalled me was how two intelligent individuals with good jobs and excellent health insurance had to wrangle their way through a system of understaffed nursing care. If adequate medical care staff can’t be had then no system, private or public, is going to make health care affordable. If I had been in the hospital who would have rescued me from my own filth? And I know damn well my out-of-pocket expenses would be a whole lot more than $450!