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Jan. 23rd, 2006 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellyssianThe situation remains more or less the same, except slightly less so, if you know what I mean.
I took my mom in about 8:00am, and just got back to the house about 7:00pm. She'll be staying overnight, and they have a sitter waiting if she needs a break.
There was a surprise (to me - I avoid weather reports for the most part) snow storm, so the commute into Mass General was slow, but not that bad. To my great dismay, I have officially noticed that MA does, in fact, deal with snow better than PA (Greater Boston area and Lehigh Valley region, respectfully.) While my mother was complaining that all they had done was salt, and did not have everything plowed, I was complimenting them on their proactive steps, instead of waiting for everything to be packed into a solid sheet before pretending (or just plain being unable) to remove it.
The primary excitement today was, aside from morning-long testing of the fire alarm system, moving my dad from the oncology ward to a private room. They finally found one for us on the thoracic floor, and that's when the excitement really started. First of all, moving a very large powered bed is difficult enough, but when the occupant keeps sticking his foot out, it gets tough. Balance that with oxygen tanks hanging off the back, and a notebook stuck under the mattress. I noticed that the nurse's end didn't have any such problems, so she, erm, lucked out. Me, I had my work cut out for me.
We went through a couple of double doors and the room door - all of which would not stay open due to the aforementioned alarm testing. Joy. Each one was a challenge, even when we attempted to get the alarm test crew to open the last double door. I think the nurse had to "help" the guy helping us, while I wound up having to make sure the other was open. At last, the bank of elevators was reached, and an UP elevator was summoned.
Another narrow fit - but we kept everything together and didn't lose any paperwork or feet. With me backing up, I had to lift the oxygen tank up so it we could get every last inch of bed inside. You see, they recently improved these elevators and made them pretty for visitors. They put paneling up. In other words, they were now too damn small to fit a bed. The door alarm went off, and the doors kept closing all of the eighth of an inch that they had before hitting the bed.
Back out again, in frustration and dismay. The door open button had ceased to pay attention to me, and tried to close anyway. The binder of paperwork went flying, spreading over the floor of the elevator. The maintenance guy came over and kindly suggested pressing the door open button, which, in his presence of course, it now actually did.
I was able to scoop up the papers, and we went on our way - through more fiendish double-doors - and went to find another elevator that actually would fit us. The "support crew" (Deb, Justin, Rachel, Brandon, and my mom,) carrying everything else that needed to make the move, headed up in the elevator that we abandoned. My brother went with us, and was able to help with the doors, but there were several that tried to actively crush the nurse. Thankfully, they were a bit better behaved when I followed at the back of the bed, although I did have to move fast a few times.
The next set of elevators - in a STAFF ONLY corridor - were for freight, and dinner was being prepared and delivered. After ten minutes of waiting for an elevator, a kindly nurses assistant who had struggled with the elevators before used the phone, dialed a Top Sekrit number (posted above the phone) and asked for a patient delivery from the 14th to the 19th floor. Dan and I discussed building an elevator from spare parts we could find and duct tape - we decided it might be quicker. Ten minutes later, the nurse called again, and the guy said there's a waiting list and one should be along in a few minutes. At that point, a door opened. Of course, there was an x-ray machine and two attendants already in there. They were good sports - having sat through a 20 minute wait themselves - and we squeezed in alongside as they squeezed over as far as they could. Dan had to stay behind, and he said he'd get up there on his own.
He had his own little adventure then - going up the stairs to the 19th floor, only to discover a locked door (he was, after all, in a STAFF ONLY area.) He went down a flight, knocked there, and was able to get someone to set him free, and, I suppose, point him to an elevator (not one of the freight ones!) and get up to the 19th floor.
He arrived while they were getting my dad shifted from the oncology bed to the thoracic bed - different makes and models, so we couldn't just roll the current one out and the new one in.
Dad's new room has a view of MIT - where he's worked for 38 years - and, if you get close to the window and look right, a view of the Museum of Science.
One of dad's co-workers stopped in before the move, and another came by afterward, which gave him a bit of a search-and-find. I hadn't seen either one of these guys for quite a while. One of them is no stranger to the 14th floor - or the 12th, where he'll be getting chemo every four months for the rest of his life. Just talked with another co-worker, who called in from Los Angeles to check up on things.
The only real news is, after a consultation with the neurologist, we may get a CAT scan for dad's head. He's been scratching at it quite a lot, and there's a possibility of hemorrhaging, especially due to the blood thinners. If there is, we'll have to make a decision: keep the medicine and the hemorrhaging, or stop the medicine and get clots. My mom and I discussed, and we'll do whatever is quickest and the most painless.
I took my mom in about 8:00am, and just got back to the house about 7:00pm. She'll be staying overnight, and they have a sitter waiting if she needs a break.
There was a surprise (to me - I avoid weather reports for the most part) snow storm, so the commute into Mass General was slow, but not that bad. To my great dismay, I have officially noticed that MA does, in fact, deal with snow better than PA (Greater Boston area and Lehigh Valley region, respectfully.) While my mother was complaining that all they had done was salt, and did not have everything plowed, I was complimenting them on their proactive steps, instead of waiting for everything to be packed into a solid sheet before pretending (or just plain being unable) to remove it.
The primary excitement today was, aside from morning-long testing of the fire alarm system, moving my dad from the oncology ward to a private room. They finally found one for us on the thoracic floor, and that's when the excitement really started. First of all, moving a very large powered bed is difficult enough, but when the occupant keeps sticking his foot out, it gets tough. Balance that with oxygen tanks hanging off the back, and a notebook stuck under the mattress. I noticed that the nurse's end didn't have any such problems, so she, erm, lucked out. Me, I had my work cut out for me.
We went through a couple of double doors and the room door - all of which would not stay open due to the aforementioned alarm testing. Joy. Each one was a challenge, even when we attempted to get the alarm test crew to open the last double door. I think the nurse had to "help" the guy helping us, while I wound up having to make sure the other was open. At last, the bank of elevators was reached, and an UP elevator was summoned.
Another narrow fit - but we kept everything together and didn't lose any paperwork or feet. With me backing up, I had to lift the oxygen tank up so it we could get every last inch of bed inside. You see, they recently improved these elevators and made them pretty for visitors. They put paneling up. In other words, they were now too damn small to fit a bed. The door alarm went off, and the doors kept closing all of the eighth of an inch that they had before hitting the bed.
Back out again, in frustration and dismay. The door open button had ceased to pay attention to me, and tried to close anyway. The binder of paperwork went flying, spreading over the floor of the elevator. The maintenance guy came over and kindly suggested pressing the door open button, which, in his presence of course, it now actually did.
I was able to scoop up the papers, and we went on our way - through more fiendish double-doors - and went to find another elevator that actually would fit us. The "support crew" (Deb, Justin, Rachel, Brandon, and my mom,) carrying everything else that needed to make the move, headed up in the elevator that we abandoned. My brother went with us, and was able to help with the doors, but there were several that tried to actively crush the nurse. Thankfully, they were a bit better behaved when I followed at the back of the bed, although I did have to move fast a few times.
The next set of elevators - in a STAFF ONLY corridor - were for freight, and dinner was being prepared and delivered. After ten minutes of waiting for an elevator, a kindly nurses assistant who had struggled with the elevators before used the phone, dialed a Top Sekrit number (posted above the phone) and asked for a patient delivery from the 14th to the 19th floor. Dan and I discussed building an elevator from spare parts we could find and duct tape - we decided it might be quicker. Ten minutes later, the nurse called again, and the guy said there's a waiting list and one should be along in a few minutes. At that point, a door opened. Of course, there was an x-ray machine and two attendants already in there. They were good sports - having sat through a 20 minute wait themselves - and we squeezed in alongside as they squeezed over as far as they could. Dan had to stay behind, and he said he'd get up there on his own.
He had his own little adventure then - going up the stairs to the 19th floor, only to discover a locked door (he was, after all, in a STAFF ONLY area.) He went down a flight, knocked there, and was able to get someone to set him free, and, I suppose, point him to an elevator (not one of the freight ones!) and get up to the 19th floor.
He arrived while they were getting my dad shifted from the oncology bed to the thoracic bed - different makes and models, so we couldn't just roll the current one out and the new one in.
Dad's new room has a view of MIT - where he's worked for 38 years - and, if you get close to the window and look right, a view of the Museum of Science.
One of dad's co-workers stopped in before the move, and another came by afterward, which gave him a bit of a search-and-find. I hadn't seen either one of these guys for quite a while. One of them is no stranger to the 14th floor - or the 12th, where he'll be getting chemo every four months for the rest of his life. Just talked with another co-worker, who called in from Los Angeles to check up on things.
The only real news is, after a consultation with the neurologist, we may get a CAT scan for dad's head. He's been scratching at it quite a lot, and there's a possibility of hemorrhaging, especially due to the blood thinners. If there is, we'll have to make a decision: keep the medicine and the hemorrhaging, or stop the medicine and get clots. My mom and I discussed, and we'll do whatever is quickest and the most painless.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-23 07:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-23 07:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-23 11:06 pm (UTC)Something else familiar for him to see, something else to hold on to.
{hugs}