I'm not sure I should be writing this often, because Patty can't seem to stay in one state for any amount of time. I write one thing based on what I've seen and heard at a given point; an hour later, when someone visits, they look at Patty and think I'm a pathological liar. "I came here to see a real-life sick person...what is this?" Stick around. It's like all those jokes about Chicago weather...if you don't like it now, wait five minutes.
This morning, Patty looked like death warmed over. Honest. If you were to look at her now, you'd think she was ready to pack up and head home. I prefer the latter state. Since I last wrote, Patty was visited by the surgeon, who gave his blessing for the removal of the drainage tube (it's gone now, much to Patty's relief.) In the next hour or so, she's going to start moving her pain medication from intravenous to oral. She's also going to be up and walking, a precursor to having her urinary catheter removed. So, as of 1:22 pm, Patty seems to be doing great. At 3:22, she could be hanging by a thread. The upshot of all of this is that we haven't the faintest idea of when to hope she may make it home. But I'll take her feeling the way she's feeling at this moment, even if it means waiting an extra day or two.
Welcome to Jekyll & Hyde: The Medical Musical. We'll be here all week; no, wait, we'll be gone after tonight; no, hold it, three more, no, maybe not, try two more days. Yeesh....