January 6, 2003
I see you, not in ICU.
My mom was moved out of the intensive care unit a couple of days ago. I wasn’t sure we were going to see that happen for quite a while yet. Amazingly enough, it happened. When I visited her this afternoon, I also discovered that she is no longer constantly monitored for things like heart capacity, overall fluid levels, or even blood pressure. In fact, the only data being displayed on the equipment in the room are her pulse and her temperature. And they’re as normal as mine numbers. Moistened, oxygen-rich air is still supplementing the room air, but it’s no longer pumped past her tracheal opening because they’ve stopped it up. Corked, as my dad says. Instead, the oxygen is passing through a small, insignificant nasal tube. Someone mentioned that they may be getting ready to remove the tracheal tube altogether. Along with the reduced medical attention and some minor physio, she’s becoming more alert and expressive. I can sense frustration when she scrunches her face up and turns her head away. I can see the discomfort when she pulls at the blankets with her one movable arm and then twists her body the entire length of the bed. She always despised sleeping on her back. Now that’s her only choice. And sometimes, just sometimes, she smiles. That’s when I see a slight twinkle in her tired eyes that reminds me that all of my mom is still in there somewhere.
This item was posted by .
Categories:
Leave a comment or send a trackback from your own site.