So the day starts with Jim calling me on my cell phone from his room, "When are you coming to get me? Bring the car around. I'm going home." Oh no you're not, I tell him. He's still got compression bandages all over his head like a mummy. He's nowhere near being healed, and he's still got pnemonia.
I went by this morning as soon as I could get out. They still have him on oxygen through his nose because his lungs are not clear, and his pulse goes way up and his oxygenation level drops when they get him up walking, so he's got a long way to go. They keep giving him nebulizer treatments every few hours to try to clear him out. I asked the nurse, since she's probably seen a lot of pneumonia cases in hospitals, how long these things generally take to clear. She said anywhere from a week to two weeks depening on the age and condition of the patient. All the nurses that come in tell me they heard about his "coding" episode in the last ward and how no one came for 10 minutes, so I'm getting the story around really well. Plus he's still got infection in the side of his face where he had to get opened twice. They had to wrap him up again today because he was leaking a little goo out the bottom of his chin. He's been sipping ice water even though he's not supposed to, but he claims it's all going down the right pipe.
I brought him a photo album from home, the card that Jimmy's school friends made that poor Jimmy was SO looking forward to giving him himself, and his i-pod that his friends bought him. The only problem was that he can't really put the headphones in his ear because of the headwrap, so I ran to the mall to the i-pod store and got him one of those speaker things you can hook the i-pod up to so you don't need headphones. I also got him a wall charger for the thing so the batteries wouldn't die. And I brought his mini dvd player and dvd's back to him so he has some diversions. He tires very, very easily, though, and he still needs morphine for the pain. He showed me the staples in his thigh where they tried to take a vein and save the carotid artery last week. He wants me to take a picture and tell everyone it was from getting a cap popped in his leg. He also got the catheter removed today but still can't get up on his own so has to use his little pee-pee jar if he has to go. I stayed until the early evening and then headed out.
I'm following the doctor's orders and taking my valium and xanax together three times a day. I have to wait about a half hour before I try to drive because woooo- they can knock you on your ass. But I've noticed they make it so you really don't give a damn about anything much. I'm driving to the hospital boppin' to the radio and don't care AT ALL who sees me acting like a fool. If I ever wanted to go to a bar and start dancing on the tables now would be the time to do it. It also doesn't help that I've got a slight cold now and have been taking cold medicine on top of it. When I go to see Jim I use tons and tons of anti-bacterial gel (they keep it hanging in the doorways of all the rooms) and I hold a kleenex in front of my face. I also try not to get too close to him.
Jimmy went home to my Mom in Bloomfield on Monday. Tomorrow they're having a few people over for cake and pizza for his birthday, then Mom will drive Jimmy back to Judy's so she can get him back to Sicklerville and move back into my house, her "summer" house she calls it. Since my Mom is up in North Jersey (Bloomfield), as long as I'm not sick as a dog in the morning when I get up, I'm going to drive down there to be at his birthday party, then I'll drive back that night. It's only 3 1/2 to 4 hours from here to my mother's, as opposed to 6 hours to my house. I'm going to stop and see Jim around 7 a.m. to make sure he's o.k., and then head out. I might not get back until really late so don't be surprised if there's no post from me on Sunday.
And to the guys in the tech service department, thanks so much for the basket. Geez...the thing is three feet tall. I'll have to share with the nurses because there's no way I'm eating all of that. But there was actually a very nice saying on the card. I don't know if anyone there actually picked it or the florist came up with it, but it's so true: When the world says "give up", hope whispers, "try it one more time.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Friday, March 2, 2007
Friday March 2, 2007 10:45 PM
Wow....so much has happened today. I'll start with Jim first. I went to see him right before my doctor's appointment today and he was pretty comfortable. Then Dr. Dolan and Dr. Tannas came in. Jim's got this drain thing coming out of his neck thay looks like a little squeeze pump- it's round on one end and collects "goop" and you can squeeze the stuff out of. The stuff that was in there suddenly looked like the color of the i.v. "food" they're giving him through his feeding tube. Now they're thinking maybe Jim sprung another leak somewhere because that "food" should not be in there. So they get their flashlights out and they're looking all over the stiches in his mouth....Oh, that one looks good...that one looks good...where is this coming from? So they decide to send him for a barium swallow study so they can see any leaks that might be on the inside. I'm thinking, how the hell is he going to swallow the barium? But they decide to do it anyway. I headed out to my appointment then, but when I got back he told me what happened. The bottom line is nothing's leaking. The technician was a crotchety old biddy who told Jim to stand up and support himself holding onto the left bar (whatever that was). So here is his with all this apparatus hanging off of him and he's weak as hell- he's not even able to go to the bathroom by himself yet- how the hell is going to support himself on anything, but he managed to do it. Then Old Biddy comes back out and barks at him...."No, not THAT bar, THIS bar." He tells her, "So how am I supposed to SEE that, with my fourth eye?" Well, he enjoyed the barium because it was chocolate flavored (now that's a desperate man who enjoys a drink of barium- that shit is NASTY) but he was able to see his swallowing process on the camera and ALL of the liquid went down into his stomach and none down his lungs. They said he did beautifully on the test. And no leaks. So the doctor thinks the goop might just be infection draining, but he's on tons of antibiotics, so hopefully that will clear up soon. They did decide to wrap the compression badage around his whole head again so he looks like he's wearing a turban. He still has a LOT of swelling that has to be reduced.
Now for me: I had a 2:30 appointment with the Internist, Dr. Frank. What a nice woman! And I really appreciated the Social Worker going all out to get me in there. I told her all my history and also that for the past week it feels to me, when I'm stadning still, like the ground is shaking...kind of like what you'd feel in a small earthquake. Plus, as some of you know, I've had a history going back about 20 years of psych problems which I never followed through to treat. I was always afraid of getting drugged up and winding up a zombie or not being able to think clearly or winding up with meds that bothered my stomach. I just "cured" myself by keeping busy so my mind didn't have time or energy to start wigging out. You know, I've told many people that if you see that something's really not RIGHT with me, please tell me and I'll follow through on getting my meds. Nobody's told me that yet, but I figured if I know that I'm crazy then I really can't be THAT crazy. So Dr. Frank adjusted my Xanax and Valium doses slightly (I got it pretty close on my own), wrote me a legitimate, legal prescription, and told me to take BOTH of them every day, three times a day, and don't stop. And she also told me NOT to quit smoking yet. Normally she would never say that, but in my case it would be too much for my body to handle, so wait until this is all over. (And if any of you skeptics don't believe me, I'll be glad to give you her number.) She also gave me the results of my stress test the other day. I have no blockages, but my heart is not compressing properly. I told her that my echocardiagram results and holter monitor results are SUPPOSEDLY on their way here from Deborah Heart and Lung, so hopefully I don't have to do those tests again before I see the cardiologist here next Thursday. But Dr. Frank sent me for a ton of bloodwork, because now she's going to start checking the thyroid and looking for a pheochomocytoma, which was what I would have had done at Deborah if I wasn't stuck here. They've got to get all of this done so they can get me on medication to slow the heart rate down. My blood pressure was also a little high: 160/100. Not horrific, but not good either.
Then she immediately sent me down to the shrink- Dr. Metcalf and he took me right away. And DAMN....you should see where this psych office is located....WAY down in a dungeon. I guess that where they keep all the crazies. Since I've had a history (both physical and mental) I was already not starting out on this journey with Jim in a good position, and the trauma's only made it worse. Now I had tried to get a phsych consult on my own here, but no luck. So when I got down there I told the doctor....hey- I called for an appointment on my own and your people basically told me to go "f" myself. Aren't you sorry they treated me that way? (A little Jewish mother guilt can't hurt). Now, in the past I've been diagnosed with all kinds of crazy shit, none of which I 100 percent believe, everything from obsessive-compulsive disorder to manic-depression to some form of ADHD....yeah....WHATEVER. So he's asking about my family history....hell- we're ALL crazy! It's definitely genetic. And yeah Mom, I know you're reading this, but face it...you're a little nuts too. And he's listening to me talk and he asks me, "Do you ALWAYS talk this fast?" Well, yeah- I guess I do. So he's not sure about me yet, says I'm a very interesting psych case, (boy, THAT'S an understatement) and I have to come back down to the dungeon again on Monday to see Dr. Moon, then come back again next Friday and see him again. He's leaning a little toward manic-depression, but he's not quite sure yet. I mean, when I was starting junior year in high school I was starting to get depressed and felt myself burning out. I managed to convince the school to let me skip that year and move on to senior year because I wanted to get out of there before I blew my GPA, so I graduated a year early. That was 1981. I stayed that way all through college (until they threw me out) until 1990 when I re-enrolled at night. Then the mania started. Since my first husband was such a jerk and always telling me I wasn't smart enought to get a degree, my goal was to graduate with honors (which I did, magna cum laude- missed summa cum laude by one one-hundredth of a point and they don't round up- thanks Philospohy professor). My plan all along was to take a copy of my diploma with magna cum laude on it, sit on the copier machine and take a picture of my bare butt, put a big lip print on it with lipstick, write "KISS THIS" on it, and mail it to him. In the end I decided that was a little childish and I didn't do it, but it kept me going. So how could you be depressed for 10 years and then manic for 16? I'm no shrink, but I would call that "recovery", wouldn't you? I thought bi-polar people went up and down, up and down, and that's not me. So I don't know. We'll let these Harvard grads figure it out. Like my grandmother used so say, though....somtimes you're so smart you're stupid.
I went back to the hotel to grab some dinner and I popped my two pills. They made me slightly loopy for about 1/2 hour, but BOY...what a difference. I can feel it already. The ground's not vibrating under my feet anymore.
Then tonight around 8 pm they moved Jim to a regular room, but not in the same wing as the last time, and this room has one of two room cameras in that unit where they can watch him from the nurses' station at all times. They didn't have those in his last ward. I told his nurse and the nurses' aid what happened to him in 6 Southeast. I plan on telling EVERY nurse that gets assigned to him what happened, and I told them in no uncertain terms...you hear my husband say the word "blood" and you'd better make sure someone hauls ass to his room. You know, I'm a psych patient here so you never know what I might do if someone neglects my husband...wink wink.
Now for the faith and God stuff. If this is not your bag, you can go ahead and roll your eyes. Neither Jim nor I have ever really been into organized religion. We were raised Catholic but over the years have become disgusted with the Catholic Church. Yeah, I went though the motions of getting Jimmy baptized in one, but just because it was something I felt I HAD to do. We tried the Methodist church for awhile, but that didn't seem like a good fit, either. However, I've always had a strong faith. Faith and religion to me are two different things. Now, you might call me crazy (hell- the shrink thinks so) but I've had one or two of what I would call "divine encounters" over the years, so I know that God's out there. I'm not afraid to go in the least bit. Before we travelled to Boston Jim and I had to talk about a lot of things...what will happen if he doesn't make it, etc., etc., etc. and I asked him if he TRULY had any faith. He was 50/50 on the subject. I told him that yes, this is a horrible thing that he's got to go through, but trying to find some good in the situation I told him that I'll bet he's meant for a divine encounter of some sort. Maybe this is the reason why all of this is happening to us. Well, he wrote me a note today and I asked his permission to share it. I'm going to condense it a little because it's fairly long. He told me that when he coded last Saturday, he definitely felt someone with him holding him up- that he wasn't going it alone:
I am writing this during the period of my recovery at 12:05 AM because I have to get this out before I forget the details. I am not going to claim anything grandiouse like I spoke with God or witnessed His presence, but I have no other way of expressing the knowledge that a deity of some form EXISTS. I know it. I need zero evidence. I found the way to get through it was the "let yourself fall" off the Earth, as if gravity no longer bonded you to it's surface which is a complete leap of faith. I didn't think that someone with my background (not an angel) would be able to accomplish this. I can remember vividly when they put me under. I focused on the clock with ALL my attention, and I could see the room color change to a more reddish- yellowing haze- along with the screams- a low roar of billions of souls in pain. Whatever pain I could not see, feel, or think about. I was spared of it. When it happened it uplifted me and was what got me through.
So when you think about it, although this is really hellish to go through, I think a lot of things happened for a reason. If Jim hadn't popped his stitches in his chin, he might have passed his swallow test last week and been sent home. Then his carotid would have blew at home and he would have been a goner. If the doctors were not so extra-cautious right now with him I might not have been here long enough to get the evaluations that I need. And some of those poor, poor people in the ICU that I saw every day...there were two men in comas right next to Jim. One looked like a very young man...maybe in his 20's or ealy 30's. The other man was older- maybe my age. I think of the hell we're going through but it's nothing compared to what those poor families are going through. It's a rough for us, but in the end it's working out this way for the best. But please God...no more bumps in the road! You hear me?
Now for me: I had a 2:30 appointment with the Internist, Dr. Frank. What a nice woman! And I really appreciated the Social Worker going all out to get me in there. I told her all my history and also that for the past week it feels to me, when I'm stadning still, like the ground is shaking...kind of like what you'd feel in a small earthquake. Plus, as some of you know, I've had a history going back about 20 years of psych problems which I never followed through to treat. I was always afraid of getting drugged up and winding up a zombie or not being able to think clearly or winding up with meds that bothered my stomach. I just "cured" myself by keeping busy so my mind didn't have time or energy to start wigging out. You know, I've told many people that if you see that something's really not RIGHT with me, please tell me and I'll follow through on getting my meds. Nobody's told me that yet, but I figured if I know that I'm crazy then I really can't be THAT crazy. So Dr. Frank adjusted my Xanax and Valium doses slightly (I got it pretty close on my own), wrote me a legitimate, legal prescription, and told me to take BOTH of them every day, three times a day, and don't stop. And she also told me NOT to quit smoking yet. Normally she would never say that, but in my case it would be too much for my body to handle, so wait until this is all over. (And if any of you skeptics don't believe me, I'll be glad to give you her number.) She also gave me the results of my stress test the other day. I have no blockages, but my heart is not compressing properly. I told her that my echocardiagram results and holter monitor results are SUPPOSEDLY on their way here from Deborah Heart and Lung, so hopefully I don't have to do those tests again before I see the cardiologist here next Thursday. But Dr. Frank sent me for a ton of bloodwork, because now she's going to start checking the thyroid and looking for a pheochomocytoma, which was what I would have had done at Deborah if I wasn't stuck here. They've got to get all of this done so they can get me on medication to slow the heart rate down. My blood pressure was also a little high: 160/100. Not horrific, but not good either.
Then she immediately sent me down to the shrink- Dr. Metcalf and he took me right away. And DAMN....you should see where this psych office is located....WAY down in a dungeon. I guess that where they keep all the crazies. Since I've had a history (both physical and mental) I was already not starting out on this journey with Jim in a good position, and the trauma's only made it worse. Now I had tried to get a phsych consult on my own here, but no luck. So when I got down there I told the doctor....hey- I called for an appointment on my own and your people basically told me to go "f" myself. Aren't you sorry they treated me that way? (A little Jewish mother guilt can't hurt). Now, in the past I've been diagnosed with all kinds of crazy shit, none of which I 100 percent believe, everything from obsessive-compulsive disorder to manic-depression to some form of ADHD....yeah....WHATEVER. So he's asking about my family history....hell- we're ALL crazy! It's definitely genetic. And yeah Mom, I know you're reading this, but face it...you're a little nuts too. And he's listening to me talk and he asks me, "Do you ALWAYS talk this fast?" Well, yeah- I guess I do. So he's not sure about me yet, says I'm a very interesting psych case, (boy, THAT'S an understatement) and I have to come back down to the dungeon again on Monday to see Dr. Moon, then come back again next Friday and see him again. He's leaning a little toward manic-depression, but he's not quite sure yet. I mean, when I was starting junior year in high school I was starting to get depressed and felt myself burning out. I managed to convince the school to let me skip that year and move on to senior year because I wanted to get out of there before I blew my GPA, so I graduated a year early. That was 1981. I stayed that way all through college (until they threw me out) until 1990 when I re-enrolled at night. Then the mania started. Since my first husband was such a jerk and always telling me I wasn't smart enought to get a degree, my goal was to graduate with honors (which I did, magna cum laude- missed summa cum laude by one one-hundredth of a point and they don't round up- thanks Philospohy professor). My plan all along was to take a copy of my diploma with magna cum laude on it, sit on the copier machine and take a picture of my bare butt, put a big lip print on it with lipstick, write "KISS THIS" on it, and mail it to him. In the end I decided that was a little childish and I didn't do it, but it kept me going. So how could you be depressed for 10 years and then manic for 16? I'm no shrink, but I would call that "recovery", wouldn't you? I thought bi-polar people went up and down, up and down, and that's not me. So I don't know. We'll let these Harvard grads figure it out. Like my grandmother used so say, though....somtimes you're so smart you're stupid.
I went back to the hotel to grab some dinner and I popped my two pills. They made me slightly loopy for about 1/2 hour, but BOY...what a difference. I can feel it already. The ground's not vibrating under my feet anymore.
Then tonight around 8 pm they moved Jim to a regular room, but not in the same wing as the last time, and this room has one of two room cameras in that unit where they can watch him from the nurses' station at all times. They didn't have those in his last ward. I told his nurse and the nurses' aid what happened to him in 6 Southeast. I plan on telling EVERY nurse that gets assigned to him what happened, and I told them in no uncertain terms...you hear my husband say the word "blood" and you'd better make sure someone hauls ass to his room. You know, I'm a psych patient here so you never know what I might do if someone neglects my husband...wink wink.
Now for the faith and God stuff. If this is not your bag, you can go ahead and roll your eyes. Neither Jim nor I have ever really been into organized religion. We were raised Catholic but over the years have become disgusted with the Catholic Church. Yeah, I went though the motions of getting Jimmy baptized in one, but just because it was something I felt I HAD to do. We tried the Methodist church for awhile, but that didn't seem like a good fit, either. However, I've always had a strong faith. Faith and religion to me are two different things. Now, you might call me crazy (hell- the shrink thinks so) but I've had one or two of what I would call "divine encounters" over the years, so I know that God's out there. I'm not afraid to go in the least bit. Before we travelled to Boston Jim and I had to talk about a lot of things...what will happen if he doesn't make it, etc., etc., etc. and I asked him if he TRULY had any faith. He was 50/50 on the subject. I told him that yes, this is a horrible thing that he's got to go through, but trying to find some good in the situation I told him that I'll bet he's meant for a divine encounter of some sort. Maybe this is the reason why all of this is happening to us. Well, he wrote me a note today and I asked his permission to share it. I'm going to condense it a little because it's fairly long. He told me that when he coded last Saturday, he definitely felt someone with him holding him up- that he wasn't going it alone:
I am writing this during the period of my recovery at 12:05 AM because I have to get this out before I forget the details. I am not going to claim anything grandiouse like I spoke with God or witnessed His presence, but I have no other way of expressing the knowledge that a deity of some form EXISTS. I know it. I need zero evidence. I found the way to get through it was the "let yourself fall" off the Earth, as if gravity no longer bonded you to it's surface which is a complete leap of faith. I didn't think that someone with my background (not an angel) would be able to accomplish this. I can remember vividly when they put me under. I focused on the clock with ALL my attention, and I could see the room color change to a more reddish- yellowing haze- along with the screams- a low roar of billions of souls in pain. Whatever pain I could not see, feel, or think about. I was spared of it. When it happened it uplifted me and was what got me through.
So when you think about it, although this is really hellish to go through, I think a lot of things happened for a reason. If Jim hadn't popped his stitches in his chin, he might have passed his swallow test last week and been sent home. Then his carotid would have blew at home and he would have been a goner. If the doctors were not so extra-cautious right now with him I might not have been here long enough to get the evaluations that I need. And some of those poor, poor people in the ICU that I saw every day...there were two men in comas right next to Jim. One looked like a very young man...maybe in his 20's or ealy 30's. The other man was older- maybe my age. I think of the hell we're going through but it's nothing compared to what those poor families are going through. It's a rough for us, but in the end it's working out this way for the best. But please God...no more bumps in the road! You hear me?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Thursday March 1, 2007 5:00 PM
Today started out pretty well. Jim's nurse yesterday had been telling me something about how he's "losing blood" and that scared the crap out of me. I really didn't understand what he was talking about. I asked him, "Is he bleeding somewhere?" and he says, "Oh, we really don't know." And I said, "Look, I'm a little jumpy right now and this blood thing is scaring me- you know what my husband just went through. Can you please have the doctor call me?"
So first thing this morning the surgeon who did the work on Saturday, Dr. Tannas, called me and explained. It's a similar thing to how you get vitamins into your body. If you eat vegetables, you absorb more vitamins than if you took a vitamin pill. The transfusions that Jim is getting to try and get his blood volume back up don't get absorbed by the body as well as if it were his own body making the blood cells. So they pump 'em in, so to speak, but they don't all "stick". He said not to worry. Of course, there's no guarantees that no more odd things are going to happen to the man, but it's beyond remote. (Well, so was this last incident, but he at least made me feel more secure). He also told me that Jim got another feeding tube inserted today. I told him, look- yesterday Jim said to me that him and what army were going to put that feeding tube in again. Dr. Tannas laughed and told me he did it himself. I also repeated the nurse and the blood and the coding and the waiting ten minutes for help story. Dr. Tannas was horrified. He pointed out that it might have even been the nurse assigned to Jim who chose not to respond right away- not necessarily the person who saw Jim's blood. He promised to get to the bottom of it. If they don't, I'm filing a complaint with the Massachusetts Department of Public Health.
Then I got a call from Lahey Clinic's scheduling department and they gave me a cardiology appointment for next week- the 8th. Thank God! And a few minutes later I heard back from the social worker, and they got me an Internal Medcine appointment with the doctor she knows tomorrow at 2:30. I told the doctor's secretary...You let Dr. Frank know that she's a wonderful woman! So I'm finally going to get the help I so desperately, desperately need. I called my cardiologist's nurse at Deborah and she agreed to Fedex me all of the test results that they already have on file so I don't have to repeat them. It looks like it's all coming together.
We went to see Jim this afternoon and he looks much better. His color is more rosy. He was a little annoyed, though, because they got him up into a chair today because someone from physical therapy was going to come down and get him walking around, but the person never showed up, and he wound up being in the chair for what HE says was eight hours, but it was probably more like six. Sitting in the chair is good for him, though, because it helps him get the crap out of his lungs. Just the fact that he was able to SIT in the chair that long was a good sign. So they get him back in bed right before we got there and then in comes the physical therapist asking if he wants to go walking. Jim's speech is much better now so he says to her, "What- are you KIDDING?" She had a good sense of humor about it and said they'd try again tomorrow. Now he's after me to get him ice cream- telling me some bullshit story about how they're giving out free ice cream at the hospital today. Oh, hell no I told him. He's not allowed to eat or drink ANYTHING until all his sutchers heal and he passes a swallowing test. I'm guessing they won't even try to give him a swallowing test for a minimum of another week to 10 days. They are going to be extra, extra cautious now.
I also noticed on Jim's table that they had a cup of water and these little mouth swap things so he could at least wet the inside of his mouth. He told me hell- he drank some of the water. He's listening to Dr. Jim now. Don't worry guys....I'll hit him in the head to knock some sense into him.
But he's still in the ICU and not in a regular room. I was told that part of that is because they just want to keep a closer eye on him until that pneumonia clears and they get his blood count up. Then they'll move him to a totally different wing and totally different floor than the LAST one he was on. Probably because they don't want any violence.
The in-laws are leaving tomorrow. They're taking me to dinner tonight again. I told them, please- something light. When I woke up this morning my lower intestines were crying for help for two hours.
So first thing this morning the surgeon who did the work on Saturday, Dr. Tannas, called me and explained. It's a similar thing to how you get vitamins into your body. If you eat vegetables, you absorb more vitamins than if you took a vitamin pill. The transfusions that Jim is getting to try and get his blood volume back up don't get absorbed by the body as well as if it were his own body making the blood cells. So they pump 'em in, so to speak, but they don't all "stick". He said not to worry. Of course, there's no guarantees that no more odd things are going to happen to the man, but it's beyond remote. (Well, so was this last incident, but he at least made me feel more secure). He also told me that Jim got another feeding tube inserted today. I told him, look- yesterday Jim said to me that him and what army were going to put that feeding tube in again. Dr. Tannas laughed and told me he did it himself. I also repeated the nurse and the blood and the coding and the waiting ten minutes for help story. Dr. Tannas was horrified. He pointed out that it might have even been the nurse assigned to Jim who chose not to respond right away- not necessarily the person who saw Jim's blood. He promised to get to the bottom of it. If they don't, I'm filing a complaint with the Massachusetts Department of Public Health.
Then I got a call from Lahey Clinic's scheduling department and they gave me a cardiology appointment for next week- the 8th. Thank God! And a few minutes later I heard back from the social worker, and they got me an Internal Medcine appointment with the doctor she knows tomorrow at 2:30. I told the doctor's secretary...You let Dr. Frank know that she's a wonderful woman! So I'm finally going to get the help I so desperately, desperately need. I called my cardiologist's nurse at Deborah and she agreed to Fedex me all of the test results that they already have on file so I don't have to repeat them. It looks like it's all coming together.
We went to see Jim this afternoon and he looks much better. His color is more rosy. He was a little annoyed, though, because they got him up into a chair today because someone from physical therapy was going to come down and get him walking around, but the person never showed up, and he wound up being in the chair for what HE says was eight hours, but it was probably more like six. Sitting in the chair is good for him, though, because it helps him get the crap out of his lungs. Just the fact that he was able to SIT in the chair that long was a good sign. So they get him back in bed right before we got there and then in comes the physical therapist asking if he wants to go walking. Jim's speech is much better now so he says to her, "What- are you KIDDING?" She had a good sense of humor about it and said they'd try again tomorrow. Now he's after me to get him ice cream- telling me some bullshit story about how they're giving out free ice cream at the hospital today. Oh, hell no I told him. He's not allowed to eat or drink ANYTHING until all his sutchers heal and he passes a swallowing test. I'm guessing they won't even try to give him a swallowing test for a minimum of another week to 10 days. They are going to be extra, extra cautious now.
I also noticed on Jim's table that they had a cup of water and these little mouth swap things so he could at least wet the inside of his mouth. He told me hell- he drank some of the water. He's listening to Dr. Jim now. Don't worry guys....I'll hit him in the head to knock some sense into him.
But he's still in the ICU and not in a regular room. I was told that part of that is because they just want to keep a closer eye on him until that pneumonia clears and they get his blood count up. Then they'll move him to a totally different wing and totally different floor than the LAST one he was on. Probably because they don't want any violence.
The in-laws are leaving tomorrow. They're taking me to dinner tonight again. I told them, please- something light. When I woke up this morning my lower intestines were crying for help for two hours.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday February 28, 2007 5:00 PM
What a day...what a day...what a day. I found out from Jim that this nurse SAW him with blood coming out of his mouth and he waited TEN MINUTES for someone to come. So I spoke with Dr. Jewell first thing this morning. Luckily Jim's pathology report came back and the tumor was not cancerous. But this is the barrage I gave him after I told him the story about the "nurse" (and I use that term loosely):
You'd better find that woman before I do. She'd better be transferred downstairs to work in the morgue because then she can't do any damage. Even people who fry french fries have to move a little quicker or the fries will burn. I demand a complete investigation. She's lucky that Jim didn't suffer any brain damage or die or else this place will be called Pam Primiani Clinic instead of Lahey Clinic. You know, "I'm bleeding from the mouth" is a lot different than "I need my morphine" or "I need a blanket" or "I need to go to the bathroom". She should have hauled ASS to find someone to help him right away. If I find her, I'm gonna bust HER carotid artery, because this hotel is costing me money...jail is free. That woman better not be anywhere NEAR my husband. Well, at least that made me feel a little better.
So then I talk to Jim's nurse to see how he's doing and now he has pneumonia. I know this is common in ex-smokers who have surgery, but I'm sitting in my chair here in the hotel and I can feel another panic attack coming. I popped two valium quickly so I didn't hit the floor again. And I know I need some serious help, but I'm not getting anywhere here because they won't even talk to you unless you have a primary care physician at Lahey. And yes- my in-laws are here, but that doesn't really help. I could have 10 people here with me and all that would accomplish is that there'd be ten people to carry my ass to the emergency room.
So we went to see Jim. Now, I'm already having drama with Aetna about covering this hotel bill. Our rep that Ingrid hooked me up with is great- (I'll refer to him as Mr. Smart Guy)- he's actually got a brain AND a heart. What a combination. This Miss Dingledong from Aetna that's managing Jim's case is another story. She's giving me crap about how we have to "start from the beginning" - whatever that means - and "I don't think this is going to be covered." Apparently they cover the hotel for transplant patients, but Miss Dingledong's really not interested in trying to find out if Jim's tumor was rare or not. I told her, "Look- they pop kidneys and hearts and lungs into people every day. I challenge you to find me even TWO more people who've had what Jim has. Don't even try to give me this hassle." I told Mr. Smart Guy to forget about talking to Jim's primary care physician. He's the one that poo-poo'd the situation from the beginning. If you want to know about how rare this is, call his endocrinologist and his surgeon. Mr. Smart Guy at least realizes that I didn't come to Boston for a vacation. So while we're sitting in the ICU with Jim (and I'm frantic about his pneumonia) Mr. Smart Guy calls me, is very nice, and says he's going to get this covered come hell or high water, so don't worry about it. He's in the process of getting in touch with the endocrinologist now. FIVE minutes later I get another call from Miss Dingledong who starts yammering again about how it's not going to be covered and "we have to start from the beginning". I told her, look- the reps taking care of it. She's still yammering on. I just hung up on her, then I called Mr. Smart Guy and said I really don't want to talk to her dumb ass anymore. I'm a race car and I'm in the red.
I spoke with Jim's social worker here and she was fantastic. I met her at her office this afternoon and she could easily see that I'm a woman on the edge. She worked the phones for me for an hour. She called Aetna on my behalf to get a list of primary care physicians that work here at the hospital, and then she called all over the place to the people she knew off the list to get me in to see someone right away and at least start the ball rolling for me. She was so funny....she asked me when my last physical was. 20 years ago. When was my last OBGYN visit? 4 years ago. Who's my primary care physician at home? Nobody, because I fired him and haven't had time to pick a new one. Who's your case manager with Aetna? Miss Dingledong and I hung up on her ass. Where'd you get your valium and Xanax? Off the internet because my cardiologist laughed at me when I told him I needed it. She said he probably did that because I have a sense of humor and they can't see beyond that to recognize that I really need help. She said in her proper British accent..."You've been a very naughty girl." She found a doctor she knew well and sent her an e-mail that I need to get in right away because this is a very unique case. I'm going to check back in with her tomorrow morning. "Are you going to be o.k. tonight?" she asked. I told her I got his far, one more day isn't going to kill me. I'm just so glad I found someone here that gives a damn.
So my in-laws are taking me to dinner tonight again, but I have so little appetite. While I was at the social worker's my in-laws sat with Jim, and he was getting annoyed at them. He finally growled at them and kicked them out. We'll go by again tonight after dinner and the next shift change and see if he's any better. I'll go in alone this time.
And on top of it all, it's my son's sixth birthday today, and I'm not there. That really doens't help.
You'd better find that woman before I do. She'd better be transferred downstairs to work in the morgue because then she can't do any damage. Even people who fry french fries have to move a little quicker or the fries will burn. I demand a complete investigation. She's lucky that Jim didn't suffer any brain damage or die or else this place will be called Pam Primiani Clinic instead of Lahey Clinic. You know, "I'm bleeding from the mouth" is a lot different than "I need my morphine" or "I need a blanket" or "I need to go to the bathroom". She should have hauled ASS to find someone to help him right away. If I find her, I'm gonna bust HER carotid artery, because this hotel is costing me money...jail is free. That woman better not be anywhere NEAR my husband. Well, at least that made me feel a little better.
So then I talk to Jim's nurse to see how he's doing and now he has pneumonia. I know this is common in ex-smokers who have surgery, but I'm sitting in my chair here in the hotel and I can feel another panic attack coming. I popped two valium quickly so I didn't hit the floor again. And I know I need some serious help, but I'm not getting anywhere here because they won't even talk to you unless you have a primary care physician at Lahey. And yes- my in-laws are here, but that doesn't really help. I could have 10 people here with me and all that would accomplish is that there'd be ten people to carry my ass to the emergency room.
So we went to see Jim. Now, I'm already having drama with Aetna about covering this hotel bill. Our rep that Ingrid hooked me up with is great- (I'll refer to him as Mr. Smart Guy)- he's actually got a brain AND a heart. What a combination. This Miss Dingledong from Aetna that's managing Jim's case is another story. She's giving me crap about how we have to "start from the beginning" - whatever that means - and "I don't think this is going to be covered." Apparently they cover the hotel for transplant patients, but Miss Dingledong's really not interested in trying to find out if Jim's tumor was rare or not. I told her, "Look- they pop kidneys and hearts and lungs into people every day. I challenge you to find me even TWO more people who've had what Jim has. Don't even try to give me this hassle." I told Mr. Smart Guy to forget about talking to Jim's primary care physician. He's the one that poo-poo'd the situation from the beginning. If you want to know about how rare this is, call his endocrinologist and his surgeon. Mr. Smart Guy at least realizes that I didn't come to Boston for a vacation. So while we're sitting in the ICU with Jim (and I'm frantic about his pneumonia) Mr. Smart Guy calls me, is very nice, and says he's going to get this covered come hell or high water, so don't worry about it. He's in the process of getting in touch with the endocrinologist now. FIVE minutes later I get another call from Miss Dingledong who starts yammering again about how it's not going to be covered and "we have to start from the beginning". I told her, look- the reps taking care of it. She's still yammering on. I just hung up on her, then I called Mr. Smart Guy and said I really don't want to talk to her dumb ass anymore. I'm a race car and I'm in the red.
I spoke with Jim's social worker here and she was fantastic. I met her at her office this afternoon and she could easily see that I'm a woman on the edge. She worked the phones for me for an hour. She called Aetna on my behalf to get a list of primary care physicians that work here at the hospital, and then she called all over the place to the people she knew off the list to get me in to see someone right away and at least start the ball rolling for me. She was so funny....she asked me when my last physical was. 20 years ago. When was my last OBGYN visit? 4 years ago. Who's my primary care physician at home? Nobody, because I fired him and haven't had time to pick a new one. Who's your case manager with Aetna? Miss Dingledong and I hung up on her ass. Where'd you get your valium and Xanax? Off the internet because my cardiologist laughed at me when I told him I needed it. She said he probably did that because I have a sense of humor and they can't see beyond that to recognize that I really need help. She said in her proper British accent..."You've been a very naughty girl." She found a doctor she knew well and sent her an e-mail that I need to get in right away because this is a very unique case. I'm going to check back in with her tomorrow morning. "Are you going to be o.k. tonight?" she asked. I told her I got his far, one more day isn't going to kill me. I'm just so glad I found someone here that gives a damn.
So my in-laws are taking me to dinner tonight again, but I have so little appetite. While I was at the social worker's my in-laws sat with Jim, and he was getting annoyed at them. He finally growled at them and kicked them out. We'll go by again tonight after dinner and the next shift change and see if he's any better. I'll go in alone this time.
And on top of it all, it's my son's sixth birthday today, and I'm not there. That really doens't help.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Tuesday February 27, 2007 11:18 PM
This afternoon Jim wasn't very lucid- he was sleeping most of the time. But tonight he was awake and talking (very raspily) and looked great. The story I get is that they're just waiting for a bed to open up in a regular ward and then they'll get him out of the ICU. The nurse he had tonight was fabulous. Sharon Lessard...what a sweatheart.
I found out what happened when he coded, and let me tell you....some heads are gonna roll tomorrow. I knew something had happened because the night of his surgery he was communicating, albeit groggily, about something that happened with one of the nurses up there. I was able to figure out that it was an issue with one nurse, and knew there'd be a story once he came to. I had talked to Dr. Jewell's nurse the other day and told her this, and she was very, very interested to know what happened and told me to call her as soon as I found out. It turns out that Saturday morning, he starts bleeding out of his mouth. He rang the call bell. The nurse was very non-chalant about it and DID NOT COME. He waited there bleeding out of his mouth until someone finally got their butt in there. He told me it was the "Russian" chick. Oh...I'm gonna have her ass if it's the last thing I do. Jim also told me tonight that Dr. Jewell wants me to come see him, so I'm going to check if he's in his office tomorrow when they open up. The only thing I'm worried about is maybe the pathology report is back and the tumor was cancerous. I know that's beyond rare, but possible. Well, I won't let my mind race until I know for sure what he wants. Maybe he's got the tumor pictures he promised me. Or maybe he's agreed to take me on as a cardiology consult, because that's his department also and I've been calling all over that place trying to get an appointment. We'll see. I hope it's good news. I just hate it when someone says they want to see you but don't say what it's about. That drives me insane.
And another warning to everyone...Jim's now become one of those radical ex-smokers who preaches to everyone about how bad it is. When he gets back to work and sees any of you on the loading dock, get ready for an earful.
I found out what happened when he coded, and let me tell you....some heads are gonna roll tomorrow. I knew something had happened because the night of his surgery he was communicating, albeit groggily, about something that happened with one of the nurses up there. I was able to figure out that it was an issue with one nurse, and knew there'd be a story once he came to. I had talked to Dr. Jewell's nurse the other day and told her this, and she was very, very interested to know what happened and told me to call her as soon as I found out. It turns out that Saturday morning, he starts bleeding out of his mouth. He rang the call bell. The nurse was very non-chalant about it and DID NOT COME. He waited there bleeding out of his mouth until someone finally got their butt in there. He told me it was the "Russian" chick. Oh...I'm gonna have her ass if it's the last thing I do. Jim also told me tonight that Dr. Jewell wants me to come see him, so I'm going to check if he's in his office tomorrow when they open up. The only thing I'm worried about is maybe the pathology report is back and the tumor was cancerous. I know that's beyond rare, but possible. Well, I won't let my mind race until I know for sure what he wants. Maybe he's got the tumor pictures he promised me. Or maybe he's agreed to take me on as a cardiology consult, because that's his department also and I've been calling all over that place trying to get an appointment. We'll see. I hope it's good news. I just hate it when someone says they want to see you but don't say what it's about. That drives me insane.
And another warning to everyone...Jim's now become one of those radical ex-smokers who preaches to everyone about how bad it is. When he gets back to work and sees any of you on the loading dock, get ready for an earful.
Tuesday February 27, 2007 5:00 AM
So I try to go to bed early and get some rest and now I've been tossing and turning for the last hour and figured what's the point. I called Jim's nurse to see how he's doing. She took the oxygen mask off and now he's just got the oxygen in his nose. They were able to reduce the pain meds and he says he's not in pain, just still coughing up crud, but he's a lot more comfortable. They're still trying to adjust his blood pressure to get it to a level they like...it's a little high but not that bad. He can't get to a regular room, though, until they get it down a little. I was told before he got this tumor out that even thought the tumor was the cause of the high blood pressure, because he's had the high pressure for so long he may not be able to get rid of that, but maybe have to only take one pill instead of three.
I can't believe this, though. I try to get more rest to stay healthy and my body rejects it. Here I was worrying about Jim's psych consult. I think I need a psych consult. At least I'm not as mushy mushy as I was last night. It might have been the onion soup. I'm going to try a valium now and see if I can go back to sleep.
While I'm at it I just want to clear up something for a few people who haven't heard the story from the beginning: this type of tumor is not cancerous. Well, sometimes a pheochromocytoma is, but very, very rarely- only about 10 percent of the time. It's just a very slow growing thing that eventually kills you due to it's size. They estimate this has been in Jim's neck for between 5 and 10 years and he had no idea. Dr. Dolan says he's never seen one as large as what Jim had. Typically these things are found on the adrenal glands. Sometimes they can be in the bladder and then you pass out every time you pee. It's really not funny. but at 5 a.m. I do find that kind of funny. What makes Jim's so rare is the combination of being a pheo and a carotid body tumor, meaning in between the two branches of the carotid artery. We only found out he had this because he went to get dental work done and under anesthesia his vital signs went crazy. The dentist said, Whoa! Something's wrong with you- I'm not touching you until you get yourself checked out. And 8 months later, after lots of testing and a few doctors, here we are.
Well, I'm going to lay back down now and watch t.v. and wait for my 7 a.m. wake up call.
I can't believe this, though. I try to get more rest to stay healthy and my body rejects it. Here I was worrying about Jim's psych consult. I think I need a psych consult. At least I'm not as mushy mushy as I was last night. It might have been the onion soup. I'm going to try a valium now and see if I can go back to sleep.
While I'm at it I just want to clear up something for a few people who haven't heard the story from the beginning: this type of tumor is not cancerous. Well, sometimes a pheochromocytoma is, but very, very rarely- only about 10 percent of the time. It's just a very slow growing thing that eventually kills you due to it's size. They estimate this has been in Jim's neck for between 5 and 10 years and he had no idea. Dr. Dolan says he's never seen one as large as what Jim had. Typically these things are found on the adrenal glands. Sometimes they can be in the bladder and then you pass out every time you pee. It's really not funny. but at 5 a.m. I do find that kind of funny. What makes Jim's so rare is the combination of being a pheo and a carotid body tumor, meaning in between the two branches of the carotid artery. We only found out he had this because he went to get dental work done and under anesthesia his vital signs went crazy. The dentist said, Whoa! Something's wrong with you- I'm not touching you until you get yourself checked out. And 8 months later, after lots of testing and a few doctors, here we are.
Well, I'm going to lay back down now and watch t.v. and wait for my 7 a.m. wake up call.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Monday February 26, 2007 9:00 PM
We went to see Jim twice today: once in the early afternoon and once in the evening. I like to go twice so I can meet both nurses- the day nurse and the night nurse- and make sure he doesn't get another Little Miss Sunshine because then I'd have to choke a bitch. The afternoon nurse was a male nurse- very nice guy- named Jason. When we got there they had us wait a couple of minutes because they took out his breathing tube. Now he's just down to an oxygen mask. He's still got goop in his lungs...some from the trauma of the surgery and some of the nicotine that's left in there. Jim was in quite a bit of pain but very responsive. Jason came right away with some morphine and got him hooked up. Jim didn't feel like writing but can communicate with the "looks" he gives you and with his hands. He was trying to talk. He asked me what happened again. The morphine makes you forget so I went through the story again, but also checked if he could remember things from before the surgery, and he could. Since my timing is always great, in comes Dr. Dolan while we were there. Dr. Dolan explained that in hindsight should they maybe have tied off the carotid to begin with? Yeah, maybe. But that can cause a stroke so they decided they didn't want to take that chance. In the end, though, that's what they had to do. And thank God he never passed his swallowing tests because if this had happened at home he would have been a goner.
Kind of a funny story here...we noticed that there was a State Trooper standing outside one of the rooms today. I made a joke and said maybe he was here to keep me in line. It turns out some nutjob in the area stabbed some relative ran out into the snow afterwards in his underwear. They brought his dumb ass to Lahey Clinic, but he's under arrest, so the trooper is in charge of guarding him, and he's handcuffed to his bed.
Tonight Jim was a little more responsive because his pain was under better control. He didn't feel like writing again but could still communicate with his face and hands. Again he asked me what happened, and I told him. But I keep testing him with things that happened before the "event" and he's o.k. I can understand if he's blocked the trauma. I just want to make sure he's still got his marbles, and he does. I told him to watch out for the crazy dude in the room across the hall.
Everyone's been great asking if they can do anything for me, but all I want is to get my husband back home and Jimmy back home and myself back home and be a family again. This whole thing is getting very discouraging and very depressing. Maybe I should call for a psych consult for myself. It's actually making me physically feel lousy..."mushy mushy" like my step-father says. I'm going to crawl under the covers now and try to get a good night's sleep.
Kind of a funny story here...we noticed that there was a State Trooper standing outside one of the rooms today. I made a joke and said maybe he was here to keep me in line. It turns out some nutjob in the area stabbed some relative ran out into the snow afterwards in his underwear. They brought his dumb ass to Lahey Clinic, but he's under arrest, so the trooper is in charge of guarding him, and he's handcuffed to his bed.
Tonight Jim was a little more responsive because his pain was under better control. He didn't feel like writing again but could still communicate with his face and hands. Again he asked me what happened, and I told him. But I keep testing him with things that happened before the "event" and he's o.k. I can understand if he's blocked the trauma. I just want to make sure he's still got his marbles, and he does. I told him to watch out for the crazy dude in the room across the hall.
Everyone's been great asking if they can do anything for me, but all I want is to get my husband back home and Jimmy back home and myself back home and be a family again. This whole thing is getting very discouraging and very depressing. Maybe I should call for a psych consult for myself. It's actually making me physically feel lousy..."mushy mushy" like my step-father says. I'm going to crawl under the covers now and try to get a good night's sleep.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Sunday February 25, 2007 10:12 PM
So we got to see Jim twice today. The nurses that he's had are fabulous. I haven't seen hide not hair of that other little twit that was his LAST ICU nurse, thank God, or we'd be calling the Miele bail-bonds fund.
Jim is still in the ICU and probably will be until Wednesday. He has a breathing tube but he's off the respirator, meaning there's a tube delivering moist oxygen to him, but he's doing the breathing on his own. Right now he has all kinds of tubes coming off of him draining the blood out of his stomach and everywhere else in his body that the blood wound up when he bled out. Tonight Nick , Judy, my mother, Joe, and Jimmy all went out to dinner, then went back to the ICU after the shift change tonight. Jim was conscious and desperate to write. I told him, "You're going to get me in trouble with this....they're going to throw me out of here if you get excited."
This is kind of how the "conversation" went:
Jim: In the ICU?
Me: Yes, you're in the ICU again.
Jim: What happened?
Me: I gave him a brief synposis of what happened, but assured him he looked great...much better than he did after the last surgery...you've had a little setback but a year from now we'll go on a nice trip and laugh about the whole thing...Just hang in there for me and for Jimmy.
Jim: Was XXXXXXXX an asshole? (making a reference to something that happened the other day, but I won't go into it here.
Me: (relieved that he obviously has no brain damage because he could remember this) No, he was very nice. Don't worry anout it.
Jim: You sure he wasn't an asshole?
Me: No, no, no. Everything's fine.
Then he wants to write more. I said, "Jim, stop. You need to rest. They're going to throw my ass out of here if you keep getting excited. No more writing.
But he's desperate to write some more and banging his fist.
Jim: I can't kill myself with a pencil. Am I allright?
Me: Of course you're allright. Would you be able to write all this if you weren't allright? You'll be fine, baby. Just a setback. We'll get through this.
Jim: Did Jimmy see me like this?
Me: No- they won't let him in here because he's too young. And I knew you wouldn't want him to see you like this.
He nodded in agreement and was crying. I told him to stop...you're going to get sicker and pop a stitch or soemthing. Well, he went on to write in about half the little notebook. Luckily his father had one in his pocket. He wrote about how great the nurses were. I hope the one we get tomorrow is good.
So Jimmy's going home with my parents tomorrow morning, unless the snow is too bad. We're going to keep him out of school this week because the logistics just aren't going to work to get him back to Sicklerville. I've had one of my neighbors (thank you so much!) watch the cats for the last few days and I've got a professional pet sitter coming in for the rest of the week through the weekend. Hopefully by then Jim's parents will feel comfortable enough to go back to my house and we can get Jimmy back to his routine.
Jim is still in the ICU and probably will be until Wednesday. He has a breathing tube but he's off the respirator, meaning there's a tube delivering moist oxygen to him, but he's doing the breathing on his own. Right now he has all kinds of tubes coming off of him draining the blood out of his stomach and everywhere else in his body that the blood wound up when he bled out. Tonight Nick , Judy, my mother, Joe, and Jimmy all went out to dinner, then went back to the ICU after the shift change tonight. Jim was conscious and desperate to write. I told him, "You're going to get me in trouble with this....they're going to throw me out of here if you get excited."
This is kind of how the "conversation" went:
Jim: In the ICU?
Me: Yes, you're in the ICU again.
Jim: What happened?
Me: I gave him a brief synposis of what happened, but assured him he looked great...much better than he did after the last surgery...you've had a little setback but a year from now we'll go on a nice trip and laugh about the whole thing...Just hang in there for me and for Jimmy.
Jim: Was XXXXXXXX an asshole? (making a reference to something that happened the other day, but I won't go into it here.
Me: (relieved that he obviously has no brain damage because he could remember this) No, he was very nice. Don't worry anout it.
Jim: You sure he wasn't an asshole?
Me: No, no, no. Everything's fine.
Then he wants to write more. I said, "Jim, stop. You need to rest. They're going to throw my ass out of here if you keep getting excited. No more writing.
But he's desperate to write some more and banging his fist.
Jim: I can't kill myself with a pencil. Am I allright?
Me: Of course you're allright. Would you be able to write all this if you weren't allright? You'll be fine, baby. Just a setback. We'll get through this.
Jim: Did Jimmy see me like this?
Me: No- they won't let him in here because he's too young. And I knew you wouldn't want him to see you like this.
He nodded in agreement and was crying. I told him to stop...you're going to get sicker and pop a stitch or soemthing. Well, he went on to write in about half the little notebook. Luckily his father had one in his pocket. He wrote about how great the nurses were. I hope the one we get tomorrow is good.
So Jimmy's going home with my parents tomorrow morning, unless the snow is too bad. We're going to keep him out of school this week because the logistics just aren't going to work to get him back to Sicklerville. I've had one of my neighbors (thank you so much!) watch the cats for the last few days and I've got a professional pet sitter coming in for the rest of the week through the weekend. Hopefully by then Jim's parents will feel comfortable enough to go back to my house and we can get Jimmy back to his routine.
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