They Are Pro-Active Here

In brief, Jon is fine. No hospital stay. Just antibiotics. He is weathering this part well. The people at the IPOP are surprised at nothing. 

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Last night the doctor told Jon to go in to get checked, and he said he thought Jon might get admitted to the hospital so he could get IV antibiotics. The antibiotics are a response to a possible infection but they are also looking for signs of cytokine response syndrome. So Jon brushed his teeth and we walked to the hospital at 11:30 at night. It just seemed simplest since our car has to be retrieved by a valet and it takes some amount of effort to get a shuttle at that hour of the night. The temperature was perfect and it was only raining a little.  The only door that is open at that hour is on the furthest side of the hospital from us, so the walk was outdoors the whole way. We walked slowly. It did seem far.

By the time they had him settled in a bed -- not in the hospital but in this locked down area called Oncology Evaluation and Treatment Center (bio) -- his fever was all the way down to 99.5. I am certain it was the walk in the cool air. He was not presenting as a sick person, only as a person who had watched his temperature rise steadily to the number where we are strictly ordered to call (100.5)   The OETC is a weird place and I read something on the wall that said it was created to deal with covid. The rooms are meant for rapid evaluation, trying to determine whether someone needs to be sent to the emergency room or admitted. There are two beds in each suite, and there is a roaring air exchange machine with a huge duct that moves the air out.  It feels very stark. They gave Jon a bag of antibiotics, took his blood, he slept in between everything. By 2:30 they had decided he was well enough to go home, no need for the hospital. We had a little bit of trouble figuring out how to get out of that spooky area, since there were no signs saying where to go and the place was empty. But eventually we found ourselves in a familiar hall and we walked back home and went to bed. That was good.

But then we had to be back in the IPOP by 8 AM. Jon skipped breakfast and we walked slowly back up the hill. This is definitely more walking than we do in real life. But it's just in 15 minute increments. It was windy and cold and we were underslept but not miserable. Poor Jon was at the IPOP until 2:30. I left him there for a few hours at a time, going home to do some work stuff, take a nap, practice some choir music. Jon had to get more antibiotics and some other med that deals with fever -- his fever kept coming back. They were trying to get ahead of it so won't have to call again tonight.

They sent us home with some supplies so we could continue to deliver the antibiotics every 8 hours. By now the outpatient world has it down to a system for dummies. We have done this before, but it feels even easier than it used to, the flushing and attaching these cute little plumbing pieces. Once again we have a giant box of too much stuff: syringes and gloves and little plastic caps and alcohol wipes. They never want anything back when we don't use it all up, try as we might. It is so bad, all this plastic going straight into the trash and beyond. And my hands are squeaky clean. Unrecognizable.

As expected, Jon is not hungry anymore. A little nauseous but not debilitated.  He knows my rule: if he skips a meal, he has to drink a Boost. He hates that stuff after a year and a half of living on it. So there will be some dinner tonight. Mark my words.