These past eight weeks

October 6, 2014
Day 159

It's now been eight weeks since Andy's Uncle Fai has been in the hospital.  I haven't talked about it a whole lot here, but we still go every day to visit him, usually in the evening after work for about 45 minutes to an hour, sometimes more.  It doesn't feel like much considering the seriousness of his situation, but when you add in driving time, it's a big chunk out of our weekday evenings.

He still can't talk, as he's all tubed up all over and has a tracheotomy in to help his breathing, so even when he is awake and alert enough to see we're there, he can't talk to us, and often doesn't even look us in the eye.  I imagine he's depressed to some degree, or in pain, or just very tired, and it's probably all of that and more.

We walk into the ICU each evening and wave hello if he's awake, then wash our hands before approaching the bed.  And then it's always the same routine from there.  I look at his heart rate and his blood pressure, I check his blood output, urine output and yes, even the other-stuff output, all to see what color everything is.  I'd never have guessed I'd be so interested back when this all started, but I've learned to be happy when the colors are all exactly as they ought to be.

After washing our hands, saying hello, and looking at all his fluid output, we glance over at his IV tower to see what medicines he's on, and how much of each one he's currently getting.  Fentanyl and pantoprazole are the only ones I know offhand, the latter easy to remember because I pronounce it as if it's a dish I'd order at my favorite Italian restaurant.  "Yes Mario, I'll take the pantoprazole with bolognese sauce, please.  Thank you, my friend."

Can I just say again though: eight weeks!  For 56 days now, Fai has been laying in that bed, in the ICU at Nassau University Medical Center, with nothing but a nurse's station and some curtains to look at.  He's got no TV or even a radio there, and he's asleep or drugged up enough to be very sleepy most of the time anyway, but this has been going on for close to two full months!

I can't help but think to myself, what have I done with the last 56 days I haven't been laying in the ICU?  What have any of us done with our lives these past two months?  While Fai is laying there in bed, his stomach still distended, still not sealed from the original operations, medicines going into him all the time, and other tubes taking fluid out of him constantly, the rest of us have been going on with our lives.  And what have we done?  What have any of us done with our freedom from hospitalization and illness?

These past eight weeks, Uncle Fai has been bedridden in a serious, sometimes critical medical situation he has no control over.  He's at the mercy of his doctors and nurses, and can only nod his head or occasionally squeeze our hands in response to the random blather and conversation we offer when we visit.  And then, each evening, we leave him there, and we return to our lives back home.  We turn on the TV, or go back to our computers, and we forget again.  We forget he's in there sometimes, and we forget how good our lives back home really are.

So take a moment, wherever you are, to be grateful.  Be grateful for your health right now, and your life right now.  And if you can, say a prayer for Fai, or send him your positive energy and well wishes through the air.  You don't even need to wash your hands first. 

Thank you!