Everything must change

After the bulk of the Summer of Woody™, which has felt like it moved at a snail's pace, the autumn has come on like the speeding of a freight train. Woody's condition continues to rapidly improve, and he's beginning to resolve his issues one by one in a way that suggests he may be home far before we're ready for him. Let's address these one at a time.

• Item: Woody's status has now been downgraded from "intensive" to "convalescent". This means that he only has to be checked for his blood pressure once a day, and means that he's de-prioritized a bit for nursing care. But it also means that he's closer to getting sent home.


• Item: Woody's swallow study, done yesterday, shows that his reflux is actually a lot better than they thought, and with a little thickener, he doesn't aspirate at all. This means that he got his first full bottle today, and will continue to get one feeding per every four by bottle, until he's strong enough to increase the amount of food he takes by mouth.


• Item: Woody has been taken off his sodium supplements, because his electrolytes are normal now.


• Item: Woody's eyes look like they're healing up, and it looks like he's not going to need any surgery to get over his ROP.


• Item: Woody's lungs are healing up, and his blood gases are still really good, even though he's on the low pressure cannula.

Despite how well he's doing, I still can find some things to complain about around here. Last week, I was uploading some pictures on the fourth floor of Unnamed Hospital, and I realized I had run out of the parking passes I had been buying every week (five for $15). The cashier is literally about a quarter mile away, so I asked the person at the help desk if I could buy the parking passes there. She replied "we only have the $1 passes. If you're here over a month your social worker can get you the coupon to let you buy them." Oh, my social worker could, could she?

Of course, my social worker has been completely absent, except for showing up with uncanny precision on the worst possible days. The last time I saw her was the day that we heard that Woody was getting reintubated after Extubation I, and I was emotional and not up to talking to her. She looked at me with sad, condescending eyes and asked if I wanted to talk, and I just couldn't do it. Similarly, I had seen her during the PIE crisis early on, and she wanted to talk about my feelings or some crap like that*, and I just had no time or strength for it. So when I learned that I had spent well over a hundred bucks more than necessary just on parking, my rage was ignited. Why does it make sense to talk about my feelings when it would be far more useful to just help me deal with a real-world issue? What the hell, social worker.

Anyway, I'm just trying to deal with what's going on with Woody and my new job, and coping with the growing realization that he's going to be home a lot sooner than we can be ready for. Then what will we do?

*Of course, Woody's granddad Hobbs was a social worker while I was growing up; I can't really get into the idea that we're the sort of people that need a social worker.