In the Beginning


The best thing about Dave’s first post-surgical hospital stay was that it was over a weekend.  The hospital was quiet, and he was given a private room.  (Honestly, why are there semi-private rooms?  Is there ever a time that you might be at the hospital where you would think a semi-private room would be a good idea?)  The first night Dave was on the Spine Unit because of the full to capacity situation on the Surgical Telemetry floor.  The only issue with this was that the nurses weren’t used to dealing with colon resection patients.  Luckily the next morning a room became available, and he was moved.

The worst thing about his hospital stay was that his blood sugar was out of control.  His numbers were sky high, and the prescribed sliding scale was doing nothing to remedy the situation.  Dave was extremely agitated and wanted me to sneak his insulin into the hospital.  It was hard for me, but I stayed firm and refused to do this.  This resulted in him kicking me out of this hospital room on a couple of occasions.  As much as I hated to see him so anxious, I was worried that in his hazy state, he would give himself too much insulin and then bottom out.  As is the case in many things in life, it is connecting with the right person that gets the job done.  This person was a nurse on the floor who told the on call Internal Medicine doctor that Dave needed to control his own insulin.  With that, the doctor changed his orders, and it was much smoother sailing from that point out.  I would say that this setback definitely affected Dave’s recovery initially.  As quickly as he did recover, the undue stress was unnecessary.  I can’t understand why in this day and age a “one size fits all” prescription would still be used.

Part of the recovery process is getting up and walking around in order to get your system back in gear.  We made many laps around the 7th floor as did Dave’s parents and his sister too.  We quickly learned that having a cart filled with yellow gowns, gloves and masks outside your room was a bad thing.  It meant MRSA or some other highly contagious and undesirable malady was afoot.  We gave those rooms a wide berth as we passed by.

The doctors were ready to send Dave home after a day and a half.  I remembered hearing that if you were going to get an infection, it would generally occur within 48 hours, so I pushed for him to stay one more night.  That night passed without incident, and we were home Monday afternoon.



read parts 1 & 2 here –