I can still see the vision of my husband precisely cutting the strip of medicated material to the exact size necessary to reach completely to the bottom of each wound with the width going to but barely touching both sides without causing pressure. Dave held up each finished piece declaring his belief it was right to the approving nod of the wound nurse. Then he carefully inserted each cut down into the wounds.
Both fit perfectly and each was positioned with equal precision. Even with the weird contortions of the lower wound, Dave never once dinged the edges or caused me pain. His methodology was the best I had experienced to date in all aspects of my wound care. I really had no complaints about any caregiver who had tended to those wounds before him so it wasn't that the bar was low. He was just that good at this task I had asked of him. It was obvious the wound care nurse was as pleased as I.
The doctor arrived soon after Dave had placed the medication into position. With both wounds still exposed the surgeon carefully inspected the condition of each wound and the medicated strips. Then he moved on to reading the label on the packaging of the treatment as the nurse once again explained the damage done to the skin around my ostomy because of all the flushing which indicated the need for this change.
With the reminder of the byproduct of his treatment plan, the doctor looked back to my andomen to see exactly what the nurse was complaining about. I winced as he probed the area with his fingers but if he noticed, he did not acknowledge the discomfort he had caused. Instead he nodded to the nurse declaring he was comfortable with her choice of medication.
From there it was decided I could go home once my pain medications had been changed from IV to oral, as long as Dave committed to daily dressing changes. In addition I needed to have home health care service set up with a nurse, a wound care nurse and a dietitian. I also needed to have appointments in place for the coumadin clinic and the surgeon. If all of that could be arranged I could forgo the nursing home.
The appointments and services would all be set up by a hospital social worker as long as financial approvals could be met. The orders just needed to be entered for all of this to even start the wheels in motion.
The wound nurse figured maybe one more day and I would finally be home. Then the real craziness would start.
To be continued.......
Getting Home with Baggage