I am pleased to report that Scott came through his surgery pretty well, although he is sore and nauseous and understandably cranky. The surgeon showed me the pieces of kidney stone that he had removed (a gross and bloody sight) and said that he'll run a CT scan tomorrow to see if he got everything. Scott is disappointed that he doesn't get to keep his stone. At the very least, he wants me to take photos of the incision in his back before it starts to heal. The idea disgusts me, and yet I think I will oblige. I can always post one of the photos on the fridge along with the list of foods that Scott should avoid in order to prevent future stones. Or perhaps I'll snap a shot of the catheter...
Speaking of foods to avoid, Scott's hospital dinner consisted of puréed mushroom soup, strawberry mousse and a few beverages. When I finally convinced Scott to eat, I handed him a warm mug and urged him to try the soup. After a couple of spoonfuls, Scott said quietly, "I don't think this is soup." That's when I noticed the teabag on the tray and realized that I had been encouraging him to eat hot water.
Okay, so I'll never be a nurse (or a chef). That's not surprising. I have always been fine going to hospitals for my own treatments and tests, but I'm a lousy visitor. Once Scott was moved to his room, I talked to him for a few minutes and realized the amount of pain he was in. As my head began to spin I tried to pull up a chair but couldn't manoeuver it past the IV stand and the bed. Finally I gave up and sank to the floor, feeling faint. The nurse couldn't bring the morphine fast enough for either of us.
Scott seemed more comfortable once the morphine drip took effect. He slipped in and out of consciousness while I sat beside him (having successfully rearranged the furniture at last) and read. When it came time for me to leave him for the night I found myself verklempt, feeling oddly guilty. Hopefully he is sleeping comfortably now. I hope to be able to bring him home tomorrow and look forward to having him back to his normal self.
Speaking of foods to avoid, Scott's hospital dinner consisted of puréed mushroom soup, strawberry mousse and a few beverages. When I finally convinced Scott to eat, I handed him a warm mug and urged him to try the soup. After a couple of spoonfuls, Scott said quietly, "I don't think this is soup." That's when I noticed the teabag on the tray and realized that I had been encouraging him to eat hot water.
Okay, so I'll never be a nurse (or a chef). That's not surprising. I have always been fine going to hospitals for my own treatments and tests, but I'm a lousy visitor. Once Scott was moved to his room, I talked to him for a few minutes and realized the amount of pain he was in. As my head began to spin I tried to pull up a chair but couldn't manoeuver it past the IV stand and the bed. Finally I gave up and sank to the floor, feeling faint. The nurse couldn't bring the morphine fast enough for either of us.
Scott seemed more comfortable once the morphine drip took effect. He slipped in and out of consciousness while I sat beside him (having successfully rearranged the furniture at last) and read. When it came time for me to leave him for the night I found myself verklempt, feeling oddly guilty. Hopefully he is sleeping comfortably now. I hope to be able to bring him home tomorrow and look forward to having him back to his normal self.
And now for some stunning veterinary news: Ferris is growing. Yes, that "diagnosis" has cost us over $600. Ferris' bile acid test was normal, meaning his elevated alkaline phosphatase level is originating from his bones rather than his liver. That's good news. Expensive good news, but good news nonetheless.
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1 comment:
Good Grief! Scott in hospital! Ferris growing! Good Luck Ms. Calamity...there's a chair right under your bum...
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