Girlfriend at Bedside
Again, I have a morbid need to piece things together right now. I still don't feel up to talking about what happened. We still don't have all the information and the police are talking about the massive amount of witness statements they have and John's parents are talking about lawyers and everyone's talking about insurance and covering shifts at work and whatnot. John? John's just concentrating on attempting to turn his head unassisted.
Last night's crazy writeup was pretty much immediately post-accident, give or take seven hours. The ER nurses finally gave me the boot at around three, with instructions to not come back until eight. I guess they worried that I would keep John up or that John would keep himself up talking to me.
I was back promptly at eight, and sat there waiting for a while. John drifted in and out of sleep most of the morning, leaving me a bit of time to catch some breakfast (mediocre sandwich). At some point, I went home to grab a sweater and some shoes and whatever else he might need upon discharge. I remember walking into the building just as Jen was getting in from dropping Paul off at BP. She, of course, cornered me with hugs and offers and I, of course, burst into tears.
I called work from home and, again, burst into tears as the manager asked me about everything. They'd already known I probably wasn't going to show and just kept offering me support, which was nice. Back to the hospital for another round of waiting.
A girl came by and said she was the first on the scene when it happened. She explained the accident to me, since she saw the whole thing unfold. She left a number for us so John could call her when he was lucid - or failing that, conscious.
Sometime later, a nurse came by and told us that John had lost a lot of hemoglobin and was staying on fluids for another day, at least. They moved him from emergency to a more private room with a bed that was long enough for his feet to not hang off the end of. Up in the private room, I was informed that visiting hours end at eight. There was a new round of phone calls to the family, and then more visits, and then the stocking of John with food and magazines and his iPod, and then we were edged out.
And here I am.
I saw his chart today. The log read something like this:
8.55 -- BP 121/50, HR 55, T 36.7, sleeping, girlfriend at bedside
9.25 -- BP 119/48, HR 61, T 36.6, girlfriend at bedside
10.15 -- BP 121/51, HR 58, T 36.8, girlfriend at bedside
11.30 -- BP 120/55, HR 55, T 37.2, sleeping, girlfriend at bedside
12.05 -- BP 121/58, HR 54, T 37.7, eating, girlfriend at bedside
...ad nauseum for another eight hours.
Last night's crazy writeup was pretty much immediately post-accident, give or take seven hours. The ER nurses finally gave me the boot at around three, with instructions to not come back until eight. I guess they worried that I would keep John up or that John would keep himself up talking to me.
I was back promptly at eight, and sat there waiting for a while. John drifted in and out of sleep most of the morning, leaving me a bit of time to catch some breakfast (mediocre sandwich). At some point, I went home to grab a sweater and some shoes and whatever else he might need upon discharge. I remember walking into the building just as Jen was getting in from dropping Paul off at BP. She, of course, cornered me with hugs and offers and I, of course, burst into tears.
I called work from home and, again, burst into tears as the manager asked me about everything. They'd already known I probably wasn't going to show and just kept offering me support, which was nice. Back to the hospital for another round of waiting.
A girl came by and said she was the first on the scene when it happened. She explained the accident to me, since she saw the whole thing unfold. She left a number for us so John could call her when he was lucid - or failing that, conscious.
Sometime later, a nurse came by and told us that John had lost a lot of hemoglobin and was staying on fluids for another day, at least. They moved him from emergency to a more private room with a bed that was long enough for his feet to not hang off the end of. Up in the private room, I was informed that visiting hours end at eight. There was a new round of phone calls to the family, and then more visits, and then the stocking of John with food and magazines and his iPod, and then we were edged out.
And here I am.
I saw his chart today. The log read something like this:
8.55 -- BP 121/50, HR 55, T 36.7, sleeping, girlfriend at bedside
9.25 -- BP 119/48, HR 61, T 36.6, girlfriend at bedside
10.15 -- BP 121/51, HR 58, T 36.8, girlfriend at bedside
11.30 -- BP 120/55, HR 55, T 37.2, sleeping, girlfriend at bedside
12.05 -- BP 121/58, HR 54, T 37.7, eating, girlfriend at bedside
...ad nauseum for another eight hours.