The hospital routine
Things have settled into a routine here. Mom and I get up in the mornings and head over to the hospital. She usually gets up and leaves earlier than I do -- I've been sleeping in until about 9 before finally getting out of bed and eating some breakfast from the stuff we have in the room. We spend about 8-10 hours in Dad's hospital room each day with the television on, mostly just sitting around. Dad gets regular visits from the nurses, checking his vital signs and giving him medecine and stuff. Also he tries to get out of bed as much as possible, either to walk around in the hallway or even just to sit upright in one of the chairs. I spend most of the time trying to get some work done, although the wireless internet connection is painfully slow and generally dodgy. Mom has been trying to get her PDA updated with all of the calendar entries for procedures and appointments.
Dad frequently orders from the room service menu, although he doesn't have much appetite due to the medication. Mom and I have been going out to eat for dinner every night, and for lunch we either grab something here or go out somewhere. After dinner we go straight to the hotel room because it's usually 7 or 8 and time to start getting ready for the next day to begin. I've been spending some time in the hotel gym in the evenings, and then after my shower I will do some more work or goof off online before going to sleep.
If Monday was day 0 (the day of the stem cell infusion), then Dad's blood counts are expected to continue to drop until day 7 or so, at which point he will have almost no white blood cells left and his body should start to rebuild everything. Because of this, we will most likely remain in this period of isolation for a couple of weeks to come -- that is, visitors in Dad's room wear the gloves and mask, and he wears the gloves and mask when he goes walking in the hallway. Eventually he will be discharged from the hospital room and returning to the hotel room, perhaps around day 15-20. They expect to be able to finally leave the Houston area around day 30 which will be about July 25.
It sounds like a boring routine, but the time has been going by pretty fast for me (Mom and Dad might disagree though). As bad as the situation is, Dad has really been doing very well and does not seem to be experiencing a lot of the problems that most people encounter during this treatment. It is really nice, having the hotel and hospital right next to each other and connected by a sky bridge, although as I mentioned before it is clearly a matter of necessity for many of the people here. One thing about this setup, though, is that (with the exception of going out to eat) you never really get away from it all since everyone you see is with a cancer patient. Everyone seems to have the same facial expression, too. They will smile at you in the hallway but you can see the weariness and concern in their eyes. Overall, I think it is a good thing to be surrounded by so many people who are sharing a similar experience, but it sure does feel good to get out into public (like lunch or dinner) and spend an hour or two with people who aren't dealing with cancer 24/7.
Overall I am very glad that I could come out here this week. It has given Mom a chance to accomplish things like laundry and shopping without leaving Dad alone or having to wait until late at night. I wish there was more I could do but it's really just a matter of sitting around and waiting all day until Dad is finally released.
Dad frequently orders from the room service menu, although he doesn't have much appetite due to the medication. Mom and I have been going out to eat for dinner every night, and for lunch we either grab something here or go out somewhere. After dinner we go straight to the hotel room because it's usually 7 or 8 and time to start getting ready for the next day to begin. I've been spending some time in the hotel gym in the evenings, and then after my shower I will do some more work or goof off online before going to sleep.
If Monday was day 0 (the day of the stem cell infusion), then Dad's blood counts are expected to continue to drop until day 7 or so, at which point he will have almost no white blood cells left and his body should start to rebuild everything. Because of this, we will most likely remain in this period of isolation for a couple of weeks to come -- that is, visitors in Dad's room wear the gloves and mask, and he wears the gloves and mask when he goes walking in the hallway. Eventually he will be discharged from the hospital room and returning to the hotel room, perhaps around day 15-20. They expect to be able to finally leave the Houston area around day 30 which will be about July 25.
It sounds like a boring routine, but the time has been going by pretty fast for me (Mom and Dad might disagree though). As bad as the situation is, Dad has really been doing very well and does not seem to be experiencing a lot of the problems that most people encounter during this treatment. It is really nice, having the hotel and hospital right next to each other and connected by a sky bridge, although as I mentioned before it is clearly a matter of necessity for many of the people here. One thing about this setup, though, is that (with the exception of going out to eat) you never really get away from it all since everyone you see is with a cancer patient. Everyone seems to have the same facial expression, too. They will smile at you in the hallway but you can see the weariness and concern in their eyes. Overall, I think it is a good thing to be surrounded by so many people who are sharing a similar experience, but it sure does feel good to get out into public (like lunch or dinner) and spend an hour or two with people who aren't dealing with cancer 24/7.
Overall I am very glad that I could come out here this week. It has given Mom a chance to accomplish things like laundry and shopping without leaving Dad alone or having to wait until late at night. I wish there was more I could do but it's really just a matter of sitting around and waiting all day until Dad is finally released.