Hospital “jet lag”

I don’t feel like writing right now. I don’t feel like doing much of anything but sleeping.

No one prepared me for how weird it would be to transition back into everyday life after 72 hours plus in the hospital.

It’s a lot like jet lag for similar reasons— your sleep schedule is screwed up and your routine in general is topsy turvy.

And I had neither major illness nor invasive procedures.

I got home on Thursday a little after 11 a.m. The cats were aloof but Nala was glad to see me.

I took one of the longest showers I’ve ever taken in my life. And I put on a pretty dress, just because I could.

And when I got out of the shower I discovered a text that alerted me to a cake on my porch.

The best baker in the neighborhood made me this coffee cake

I immediately texted my neighbor in the other half of my house and asked if she wanted to have coffee and I would bring cake.

Knowing I haven’t had decent coffee since the previous weekend, she started a pot immediately.

I left from there to go meet my daughter at the high school and help her carry her marching baritone home.

This is where I have to give my daughter all the props. Monday was her first day of high school band camp. If you don’t already know this about the teenager, she is in her fourth year of playing low brass in marching band.

So when I wandered off to the ER at 6-ish a.m. Monday morning, and was texting her “I’m not coming home.” Well, first she thought I was dying and then she suddenly became responsible for her own meals, her own laundry, and the care of 3 parakeets, 1 cockatoo who won’t go to sleep without someone in the room, our four cats and five foster kittens.

And we had a tropical storm.

And she handled it all.

Our neighbors offered an amazing support network, as did my friends, especially Gayle who brought me t-shirts so I didn’t have to wear a hospital gown.

I took several walks that first day home, including one for my medicine at CVS. I was ecstatic to see I only had a few days of Augmentin to take.

And the hand has improved every day.

Wound: about 10 a.m., August 8

My dad and stepmom came down to visit and take us to dinner at Three Mugs Pub. That almost made me cry because on Wednesday, after the doctor told me he couldn’t discharge me yet, all I could think of was a Shruty’s burger at Three Mugs Pub.

One of the best burgers around

When Three Mugs Pub was still Shruty’s, my husband and I were the first people to order the Shruty’s burger when they debuted it. It’s a really good burger topped with pepper jack cheese, shrings (tempura battered deep fried banana pepper rings) and Texas petal sauce.

In my opinion, this burger is one of the best in the Lehigh Valley, on par with the much pricier peanut butter bacon burger at Two Rivers Brewing, another favorite of mine.

And I had a Guinness to celebrate my arrival home.

They had a new appetizer on the menu— a hot buffalo chicken dip. We tried that too.

The teenager declared it her new favorite chicken dip, better than her father’s. I respectfully disagree. Her father’s is extremely good. I prefer it.

After that meal I slept 10 hours.

Now, on Friday, yesterday, everyone kept contacting me or stopping me to ask how I was doing and then Darnell stopped by to inform me of all the things that had happened while I was gone.

And everyone wanted a piece of the coffee cake Janie made me.

I shared.

And then my neighbor Jan let me watch a movie at her house, cuddling with her dog, and she even gave the teenager and I a bag of brownie M&M’s. The teenager thought they “just tasted like M&M’s” whereas I thought if you piled enough of them in your mouth at once it was like having a mouthful of brownie batter.

Not that I’ve ever eaten a bowl of brownie batter.

Or an entire pint of ice cream with brownie bits.

And then I slept 10 hours again.

I rolled out of bed a little after 8, expecting to have the last slice of Janie’s decadent coffee cake, after all, I need the food to take my antibiotics.

But then my mom told me she was bringing sticky buns.

So I made my morning coffee and as the espresso machine started steaming, I got on the scale.

I’ve gained two pounds since I got home from the hospital.

Saturday breakfast from Mimi

Lunch was a business mixer with the Easton chapter of the Lady Boss Women’s Entrepreneurial Club at Sogo Asian Fusion in the downtown.

A random young black women yelled at us from her car, “You guys look so pretty.” So I asked the teenager to take some selfies before our arrival. The teenager had just given me a haircut. I thought my hair looked untamed because of my hospital stay. I was wrong.

That random compliment from a stranger meant a lot to me as I still feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

The teenager and I had the Out of Control roll, Fire Mountain (with scallops! and it really was a mountain, and it was so amazing) and a Philadelphia roll. The teenager squealed with delight and the staff at Sogo gave me the rubber-banded chopsticks because I was using a fork.

I guess the teenager will have to teach me to use chopsticks.

The remainder of my afternoon was spent cleaning, walking with my neighbor, and trying to earn the trust of our foster kittens.

YouTube playlist of our foster kittens

And now, I’m feeling a little nauseous and I wonder if it’s because of all these penicillin-family antibiotics in my system and the fact that I had so much more water in my system in the hospital. Every time I had an adverse reaction to the antibiotics in the hospital, they increased my IV fluids. So I’m trying to drink more here at home.

And a few minutes ago, my mom texted. She got bit by a friend’s cat today.

Impatient inpatient insights

I left my home at 6:15ish a.m. on Monday. I was in the ER within walking distance of my home by around 6:30, blood drawn around 7 a.m. and admitted shortly thereafter. I was transferred to another hospital, arriving at 3 pm, and I haven’t left my 9th floor room every since.

It is 9:30 am on Thursday.

I had a cat bite. One tooth. Punctured my finger. 3 pound kitten.

The almost instantaneous cellulitis was scary.

The fact that it got infected is not unexpected—most people don’t realize that 50% of cat bites get infected versus 5 to 10% of dog bites.

This whole adventure taught me a lot about animals, emergency medicine and hospitals.

My favorite nurse Michelle just announced I am being discharged as soon as she can fill out the paperwork. They cultured my blood— that was those bottles I posted the other day—and nothing grew!

So now that these have come back clean, I can head home. My neighbor, Jan, little dog Sobaka’s mom, is on her way.

I have set up my follow up appointment with my primary care physician, who will be very glad to see my blood pressure has reached normal levels.

I can’t even remember what I wanted to write in this because I’m so excited to go home.

  • I drink a lot of water and also urinate a lot. If the average person urinates 2000 ml a day, I probably hit almost 3000 ml.
  • I heard a “rapid response team” code 3 times while in the hospital, once each night around 8 pm. Last night, it was in a room a few doors from mine. Seeing the red cart fly by and people streaming from every direction, including the corridor I could see from my window. It was sobering.
  • I always feel like I’ve ordered half the hospital menu and when the food comes, I’m always shocked at how little food is on the tray.
  • My blood pressure was consistently about 117/75.
  • Being in the hospital for 3.5 days allowed me to follow the routines and “get to know” the staff and the other patients. In this time of Coronavirus, I couldn’t leave my room without mask and what not and really where would I go?
  • I saw the nurses deal with several difficult situations.
  • I watched the patients walking the corridors for exercise, in their gowns and with their IV poles.
  • I loved watching shift change, and when the residents and interns gathered for rounds.

Greek Pride Day 2

So four out of our five kittens in the “Greek Pride” we are fostering for FURR had a great day.

Left to right, kind of clockwise: Hermes (white nose), Zeus & Aphrodite (not sure from this angle who is who), and Artemis

Hermes and Hades both get antibiotic cream for their eyes. Hermes now has no probably with us giving him medicine, though he hisses a bit and puts up a token fight.

Hades, the little black kitten not in the photo, let me scoop her up and bring her to the teenager for her medicine. As I extended her face toward the teen, Hades panicked and started flailing.

I didn’t have a good grasp on the scruff of her neck (she’s 1/3 to 1/4 of the size of all my boys) and when I lifted my hand up to push her front paws against her chest, she bit me.

One tooth made a puncture above the knuckle of my left index finger. The teenager demanded I put the kitten down and go wash.

I washed my arms and hands with soap and water and then poured hydrogen peroxide in all the scratches and covered the puncture with a band aid.

Hades hid. All day.

An hour or so later, before going to the grocery store, I changed the band aid and added some triple antibiotic ointment.

I got the cats some sardines— the teenager deboned one can to share between all nine cans. The kittens, especially the runt, enjoyed them. Hades wouldn’t partake.

Sardines

Over the course of the day my finger swelled and I couldn’t bend it. When I did bend it, some discharge (relatively clear looking with a bit of blood) came out of the wound. It was starting to feel like I slammed it in a car door. I took an Epsom salt bath and headed to the Urgent Care.

Now I love my local urgent care.

This is what I looked like:

Lost the kitty battle

The bite is that small dot above the knuckle on my left index finger.

The assistant who took me to the exam room noticed my wounds and asked if I was there for the scratches. No, I said, showing him the puncture. “Cat bite?” he asked.

“I’m fostering unsocialized kittens and this one needed medicine in his eye,” I replied.

The doctor comes in.

He suggested I have an infection in my fingernail/cuticle and that it traveled into the knuckle. I suggest maybe it’s the puncture. He insists it’s the fingernail and prescribes bactrim, an antibiotic, but he wants me to go to the ER.

I grab a pizza, come home, take my first pill and help the teenager with the kittens. Hermes takes his evening meds like a champ and we scoop up the runt and think we see two little testicles.

We named him Zeus. Zeus likes to eat and likes to play. Artemis plays a little, but Zeus really likes to play.

Video of Zeus playing

When the teenager returned to her room to shower, three of the babies were sleeping on top of the desk instead of under it.

Day Two!

I’m so proud of them!