Well, I tried to get Jim sprung out of the hospital today, but it didn't work. He even called me at 7:15 a.m. asking me to get him out of there. I told him, "I'm trying...I'm trying." He had to miss his therapy appointment. Apparently this is how it works: After they biopsy the stuff from your lungs, they need 24 hours for the stuff to start growing in the petri dish. Then it takes another 24 hours for them to be able to identify what the organism is. Then it takes them another day to come up with a treatment plan. I'm thinking...do they really need Jim's ass sitting in that bed for the petri dish to grow stuff? They just need the petri dish..not him. They can call in an antibiotic order after they figure out what it is. Then I asked if maybe I could just "borrow" Jim for a couple of hours and I'd bring him back after his therapy. Of course, that didn't fly with them. I told Jim to just put up and shut up because he may get pneumonia again and really needs to establish a good relationship with a pulmonary group in the area. Don't piss them off because you may be back. And this pulmonary group seems to be really on the ball. Lahey may have been great with carotid body tumors, but pnemonia was just not their bag. Here at Kennedy Jim's getting all sorts of breathing treatments...some with sulfur, which I never heard of, and they switch off different kinds of stuff in the nebulizer. Very inventive.
Jim called me this afternoon and told me that apparently they had identified the organism that was in his lungs. It was the staph infection that he picked up at Lahey. So he may get out of Kennedy either tomorrow or Saturday. I was also able to reschedule his therapy for Monday, which is my birthday, but I've stopped celebrating those. Getting him into therapy will be the best birthday present.
Tonight my mother and step-father came down and we all went to Jimmy's Little League practice. His Little League had started while I was in Boston so my parents had taken over the responsibility of getting him there two evenings a week. I didn't have any idea where the field was. One of the Dad's there was wheelchair-bound from a car accident. The wife was telling me that her husband had had a stomach feeding tube for awhile also but was able to get rid of it. But I'm thinking, well, at least Jim can WALK. On that note, my step-sister sent me an e-mail today. It's long, so I won't include the whole thing, but everyone should remember some of these things, Jim especially when he finally gets out of the hospital (except for the food part):
I'm thankful for the taxes I pay, because it means I'm employed.
I'm thankful for the messes to clean after a party, because it means I've been surrounded by friends.
I'm thankful for clothes that fit a little too snug, because it means I have enough to eat.
I'm thankful for the lady behind me in church who sings off key, because it means I can hear.
I'm thankful for the pile of dirty laundry, because it means I have clothes to wear.
I'm thankful for the parking spot I find at the end of the parking lot, because it means I'm capable of walking and have been blessed with transportation.
And most of all, I'm thankful for the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours, because it means I'm alive.
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