The Magical Powers of Good Ole Potato Soup.
On December 10th a very good friend of mine went into the hospital for a slightly less than routine surgery to correct a very bad case of diverticulitus a digestive system disorder, which he had been battling for roughly a year.
After surgery he spent the next 11 days working really diligently to recover from the initial surgery and was granted a “go home” ticket by his physicians on December 21st. I took him home and tried to dodge every bump, each pothole and all swerves on the 25 mile trek to his house. He settled in for Christmas and kept the hope that all was well under the surface.
On the morning of the 27th I got a very upsetting call from his mother in Missouri who was just this side of hysterical with worry. The ambulance had been called but due to the distance from the VA hospital the 911 operator was insisting on sending the ambulance only if he was going to a closer hospital. All the while I was racing, let’s say racing if you call 80mph on 285 racing, to get there and calm his mother who was still hysterically still in a “tizzy” and trying to figure out how to cross 4 states in a matter of a few minutes. I donned my best medical cap and assured her I would get him help.
I get him to the emergency room at the VA Hospital and they immediately begin to re-hydrate him. The CAT scan is ordered and then it is a hurry-up and wait sort of day. His pain is off the charts and all I can do is just sit and use my calm voice assuring him that the pain meds will soon kick in, they did not. The scan reveals a large hematoma in his abdomen and an abscess had planted its ugly little feet so now there was real concern. The large hematoma was then viewed by every resident and intern that just happened to plod through the ER and their exclamations of 8cm, wow, lead me to believe that my friend was sprouting an alien baby.
Another day or so passed with tests, pain, x-rays, no eating or drinking, until neither one of us could emotionally cope with trying to calm the anxious family members. The mother and father were summoned because emergency surgery was the imminent danger and I am sitting on just this side of pretending I am the next of kin. Mom and Dad arrive after a two day trek and I am thrilled to see them.
That alien baby has caused lots of trouble over the course of the last two weeks, I have learned how to calmly explain procedures over the phone, I have gained my bed fluffing badge of honor and I have taken my rightful place in the heart of his mother as her angel of mercy. Much to our dismay his condition did not improve enough and he underwent a second surgery on January 6th due to the internal issues of a trouble making alien hematoma, to repair and disconnection of the very upset colon. The gifting during this surgery and I say gift very sarcastically was that of a temporary ostomy until all ugliness that ensued from the original surgery could be laid to rest.
After this last surgery I have to say that he has recovered nicely, lost his sense of humor, gotten crabby and bossy and become less and less of a fan of all medical everything. He has gradually been upgraded to liquid diet and not just the bag of “food” that hangs on the IV pole. Sunday I ventured out for a visit and brought him a much needed good cup of Dunkin coffee and spent a bit of time perusing the yellow walls of his room and watching everything not so interesting on the television. The parents came in with roommate in tow and I saw this as my chance to reduce the visitor level down to the minimum. My promise before the exit was to bring him some of my homemade potato soup for a Monday brunch after the doctor wrote the orders for soft consumables.
I always keep my promises so when Monday rolled in I arose at 5am and whipped up my potato soup threw in a few spoons, bowls and bread in a bag for the picnic on the 9th floor. I went by the Dunkin store for the favorite coffee and proceeded to the VA where most of the valet guys know me by my first name. I arrive to the grouchy man wanting to disconnect from the picc line via IV pole so that he could make use of the time to shave and become handsome and clean once again. Mom and Dad arrive and much to the grouchy man’s dismay there would be another wait while the antibiotics made their trek to the parts unknown through the picc line so we opted to have lunch instead. After not eating solid food, or any food for that matter since December 27th that bowl of soup was a well deserved treat. I joined in for good measure and Mom just voiced her concern as mothers do so well, to not eat too fast.
I get a phone call this morning from his roommate, they are releasing him from bondage of 4 walls of soft yellow, all things medical and sending him home today. The best message came from him directly; he thinks it was the potato soup that did it. I am just glad that I could provide the magical powers of my potato soup and end this 34 day ordeal.
You know, now that I think of it he just might be getting that sense of humor back.
After surgery he spent the next 11 days working really diligently to recover from the initial surgery and was granted a “go home” ticket by his physicians on December 21st. I took him home and tried to dodge every bump, each pothole and all swerves on the 25 mile trek to his house. He settled in for Christmas and kept the hope that all was well under the surface.
On the morning of the 27th I got a very upsetting call from his mother in Missouri who was just this side of hysterical with worry. The ambulance had been called but due to the distance from the VA hospital the 911 operator was insisting on sending the ambulance only if he was going to a closer hospital. All the while I was racing, let’s say racing if you call 80mph on 285 racing, to get there and calm his mother who was still hysterically still in a “tizzy” and trying to figure out how to cross 4 states in a matter of a few minutes. I donned my best medical cap and assured her I would get him help.
I get him to the emergency room at the VA Hospital and they immediately begin to re-hydrate him. The CAT scan is ordered and then it is a hurry-up and wait sort of day. His pain is off the charts and all I can do is just sit and use my calm voice assuring him that the pain meds will soon kick in, they did not. The scan reveals a large hematoma in his abdomen and an abscess had planted its ugly little feet so now there was real concern. The large hematoma was then viewed by every resident and intern that just happened to plod through the ER and their exclamations of 8cm, wow, lead me to believe that my friend was sprouting an alien baby.
Another day or so passed with tests, pain, x-rays, no eating or drinking, until neither one of us could emotionally cope with trying to calm the anxious family members. The mother and father were summoned because emergency surgery was the imminent danger and I am sitting on just this side of pretending I am the next of kin. Mom and Dad arrive after a two day trek and I am thrilled to see them.
That alien baby has caused lots of trouble over the course of the last two weeks, I have learned how to calmly explain procedures over the phone, I have gained my bed fluffing badge of honor and I have taken my rightful place in the heart of his mother as her angel of mercy. Much to our dismay his condition did not improve enough and he underwent a second surgery on January 6th due to the internal issues of a trouble making alien hematoma, to repair and disconnection of the very upset colon. The gifting during this surgery and I say gift very sarcastically was that of a temporary ostomy until all ugliness that ensued from the original surgery could be laid to rest.
After this last surgery I have to say that he has recovered nicely, lost his sense of humor, gotten crabby and bossy and become less and less of a fan of all medical everything. He has gradually been upgraded to liquid diet and not just the bag of “food” that hangs on the IV pole. Sunday I ventured out for a visit and brought him a much needed good cup of Dunkin coffee and spent a bit of time perusing the yellow walls of his room and watching everything not so interesting on the television. The parents came in with roommate in tow and I saw this as my chance to reduce the visitor level down to the minimum. My promise before the exit was to bring him some of my homemade potato soup for a Monday brunch after the doctor wrote the orders for soft consumables.
I always keep my promises so when Monday rolled in I arose at 5am and whipped up my potato soup threw in a few spoons, bowls and bread in a bag for the picnic on the 9th floor. I went by the Dunkin store for the favorite coffee and proceeded to the VA where most of the valet guys know me by my first name. I arrive to the grouchy man wanting to disconnect from the picc line via IV pole so that he could make use of the time to shave and become handsome and clean once again. Mom and Dad arrive and much to the grouchy man’s dismay there would be another wait while the antibiotics made their trek to the parts unknown through the picc line so we opted to have lunch instead. After not eating solid food, or any food for that matter since December 27th that bowl of soup was a well deserved treat. I joined in for good measure and Mom just voiced her concern as mothers do so well, to not eat too fast.
I get a phone call this morning from his roommate, they are releasing him from bondage of 4 walls of soft yellow, all things medical and sending him home today. The best message came from him directly; he thinks it was the potato soup that did it. I am just glad that I could provide the magical powers of my potato soup and end this 34 day ordeal.
You know, now that I think of it he just might be getting that sense of humor back.