Foiled Again

We had total confidence they would discharge Jon today. The doctor said it, the nurses said it, everybody said it. But somehow the home oxygen delivery plan was never communicated between the hospital and Kaiser. Apparently the whole team/unit was talking about how to get Jon out of there, but no one could understand what was happening. 

I went home at about 1:00 to wait for the delivery of the home tanks since they wouldn't deliver it without a signature. At 4:00, I called Jon to see what was going on. He said no one really knew but it wasn't happening until tonight and we already had the mobile unit in a box, ready to go.

And then there was a little side comedy/tragedy not involving the health care system. I thought I should take the car over to the hospital so I could bring Jon home, whenever things got straightened out. I waited for 25 minutes for the valet to bring the car. No car. I finally went outside to ask, and he took the keys out of his pocket and said, "stick shift. I can't drive it." I forgot about that possibility. When I got in the car it wouldn't start. It did something weird that I hadn't seen before, acting like there was some kind of switch that wouldn't let it keep trying to start. Called Jon, he said it sounded like a dead battery. I said it didn't sound exactly like that, but it was possible the interior lights were on for the last five days (we have not driven the car in a long time). I had to wait for about an hour for the next valet to start his shift because the one who couldn't drive stick also comes to work by bus. Okay, I can't get mad about that. So I set up the jumper cables and sat in the back of the car with the back gate up and looked pitiful. Eventually someone who pays for a parking space in that lot asked if I needed help. He was a nice man who got DOGEd from his NIH job and recently started work at the Bloomberg School of Public Health figuring out how to end malaria. My story was much less interesting. We tried to jump it but that was not the issue. Other lights came on. This car always works, so it must have something to do with a warning light that started to appear as we were coming up here (and ignored). There is something going on with the diesel particle filter something something. As Betsy would say, yadayada car parts. I closed the hood and walked back to the hospital. On the way back, I thought of who we should ask for advice for a reputable repair shop -- Don who grew up in Baltimore and has lots of family still living here.

I walked into Jon's room. He said please go get my prescription at the pharmacy, they are closing in minutes. I said, please text Don and ask for some advice, and I went back downstairs to wait for yet another thing.

If there is one thing I have been practicing a lot, it is WAITING. Usually I am really bad at that. I don't like to wait in lines, especially not waiting for dinner. But when it comes to here and now, I have to practice a lot of patience that does not come naturally. I am practicing every single day.

Then Jon was on the phone with the oxygen delivery people, trying to understand the plan. Then the NP got on the phone and tried to repeat the plan. But the NP said at 6:45 that the team did not have confidence that Jon's oxygen supply was guaranteed, even if they said it was coming, and they had decided to keep him one more night, with apologies. Then the oxygen guy said we had the wrong unit in the box and he was going to have that one replaced and he would have the home unit delivered on the same trip, to the hotel. Immediately.

Minutes later, I went down to the main door which is a good 5 minute walk with many long hallways and an elevator. I met the delivery guy, handed off the bad unit and received the good one. Had to roll that one all the way up to Jon's room and rush back downstairs to meet up with the guy again because his dispatcher had said I should ride in the van to the hotel. Nope, that is so not allowed. He said he would meet me at the hotel. So I hustled back to the hotel from the main door of the hospital, as fast as my short fat little legs would allow. I am not getting any exercise other than this back and forth trip over and over (four trips today, that's two miles), so this is good. We schlepped four tanks and a machine up the elevator, he set it up and NOW we are ready for Jon to get out of the hospital.

Except that it is too late and it would probably use up every ounce of his limited energy to do that tonight. He is still very dependent on the oxygen and doesn't seem to be getting better yet. But he has no fever and he isn't getting worse. The Infectious Disease doctor said he felt like it was a good sign that Jon wasn't getting worse. That's what they worry about. Getting better can be slow, and that's okay.

Ok, but here's something I forgot to say that is good. While I was watching Jon snooze this morning (sleep is hard in the night at a hospital), I got this wild idea that I really wanted to get outside and do some work, and tomorrow is the very last warm day and I wanted to drive to Southern Maryland and meet Rachel to pick vegetables. But that meant I would have to find a substitute for myself here in Baltimore. It turned out that was a bridge too far, with no notice, so I satisfied myself with solidifying a plan for everyone else to do the work (Carrie was already planning to pick in Vienna because she's no dummy but I usually do the Sassafras picking on a nice day of my choosing, two hours south). So, before this blast of winter arrives and some unknown but large amount of sleet and snow piles on top of the fields, people will be picking for the CSA tomorrow. I am jealous but happy. It is possible there will be no days for outdoor picking for quite a long time after tomorrow. The temperatures are dropping to single digits next week. Ugh. 

Of course that crazy plan would never have worked because our car is out of commission, so all's well that ends well. We just have to figure out how to get the car towed and fixed. Ha. That's nothing compared to trying to get oxygen delivered.