Happy Jeff
Dec. 20th, 2010 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greatbearI'm currently in Jeff's room at the hospital. Jeff is feeling quite good and is scheduled to go home tomorrow. Yesterday he said that he was bored out of his skull, and after finding out there is WiFi available on the campus I put together a little care package of the little lappy and some puzzle books to keep him occupied. This helped raise his spirits even more and help pass the time.
I'm still fascinated by the whole experience here, for both of us. Jeff comes in literally at death's door, a swarm of highly qualified and compassionate people assume their roles and begin his care. He was them shuffled off to the catheterization lab, with me in tow, where they prepped him for the placing of the coronary stent in his heart. I waited for a short time in a small waiting room completely devoid of people (it was about 5:30 am, after all) for less than an hour, then was brought back when the procedure was done. Jeff was already feeling much better at this point, and the staff kept him there for a few minutes just to be with him and make sure he's okay. After that, he was taken to the ICU. During the transit time to the ICU, the doctor took me over to the imaging room where I was shown the "videos" of the procedure, the before and after, with everything fully explained and making perfect sense. After this, I went over to the ICU where Jeff was recovering.
I am amazed and humbled at how this all unfolded, from the moment I dialed 911 to this very moment I am writing this. Each and every person we have interacted with has been the model of professionalism, compassion and friendliness. The fact that I have been with Jeff through every phase of his treatment, made to feel just as comfortable as he has, and treated with such respect has renewed my faith in people in a lot of ways. This is not your father's medical care. The openness, technology and advancements in medical arts make even the worse seem surmountable with relative ease. Jeff will leave the hospital with a man-made object inserted in his heart, with only a tiny "scar" resembling a mosquito bite on his inner thigh remaining as evidence. Well, they did shave off a fair amount of his chest hair because of all the ECG electrodes coming and going, but that's an incalculably small price to pay for this end result. He will tentatively return to work in a part-time capacity at the beginning of the year, and after leaving the hospital, will begin a regimen of coronary rehab.
I cannot begin to relate to my dear readers how relieved I am at this point. When this started to unfold, I was worried that the worst might happen. But from the moment the EMTs swarmed into our living room and I began accompanying Jeff through the different pieces of his treatment, I was enveloped in a feeling that things will be all right. Even going home at night, where I felt cold and alone at times while in bed and staring at the ceiling, I felt comfortable knowing that he could not have been in better hands.
Jeff is very lucky. But then again, so am I. Here he is earlier today, talking with room service ordering lunch:
I am able to come and go as I wish, there do not seem to be set visiting hours (I left at 11pm yesterday) and cell phones and wireless devices are de rigueuer among the staff and geeks like me. LJing from the hospital? No app needed for that. :)
Jeff thanks everyone for all the kind words, concern, good vibes and prayers. As do I. You guys are the best.
I'm still fascinated by the whole experience here, for both of us. Jeff comes in literally at death's door, a swarm of highly qualified and compassionate people assume their roles and begin his care. He was them shuffled off to the catheterization lab, with me in tow, where they prepped him for the placing of the coronary stent in his heart. I waited for a short time in a small waiting room completely devoid of people (it was about 5:30 am, after all) for less than an hour, then was brought back when the procedure was done. Jeff was already feeling much better at this point, and the staff kept him there for a few minutes just to be with him and make sure he's okay. After that, he was taken to the ICU. During the transit time to the ICU, the doctor took me over to the imaging room where I was shown the "videos" of the procedure, the before and after, with everything fully explained and making perfect sense. After this, I went over to the ICU where Jeff was recovering.
I am amazed and humbled at how this all unfolded, from the moment I dialed 911 to this very moment I am writing this. Each and every person we have interacted with has been the model of professionalism, compassion and friendliness. The fact that I have been with Jeff through every phase of his treatment, made to feel just as comfortable as he has, and treated with such respect has renewed my faith in people in a lot of ways. This is not your father's medical care. The openness, technology and advancements in medical arts make even the worse seem surmountable with relative ease. Jeff will leave the hospital with a man-made object inserted in his heart, with only a tiny "scar" resembling a mosquito bite on his inner thigh remaining as evidence. Well, they did shave off a fair amount of his chest hair because of all the ECG electrodes coming and going, but that's an incalculably small price to pay for this end result. He will tentatively return to work in a part-time capacity at the beginning of the year, and after leaving the hospital, will begin a regimen of coronary rehab.
I cannot begin to relate to my dear readers how relieved I am at this point. When this started to unfold, I was worried that the worst might happen. But from the moment the EMTs swarmed into our living room and I began accompanying Jeff through the different pieces of his treatment, I was enveloped in a feeling that things will be all right. Even going home at night, where I felt cold and alone at times while in bed and staring at the ceiling, I felt comfortable knowing that he could not have been in better hands.
Jeff is very lucky. But then again, so am I. Here he is earlier today, talking with room service ordering lunch:
I am able to come and go as I wish, there do not seem to be set visiting hours (I left at 11pm yesterday) and cell phones and wireless devices are de rigueuer among the staff and geeks like me. LJing from the hospital? No app needed for that. :)
Jeff thanks everyone for all the kind words, concern, good vibes and prayers. As do I. You guys are the best.
