No place like home

We are reveling in the pleasure of being home since Thursday evening.

It's still a godsend just not having C. supine day and night, not waiting interminably for her to open her mouth to be spoon fed, not having to beg a few drops of milk from the nurses for a cup of coffee, not fighting fatigue while driving home through torrential rain at 11:30 pm (with a cataract in one eye!) And, of course, for Hubby there's the treat of sleeping in a bed rather than a chair and for more than three hours.

Even C.'s inability to stand and walk as she previously did isn't concerning me yet. Just as she has regained her ability to raise her spoon to her mouth and feed herself, I'm hoping her other skills will follow suit.

Seizures have not been banished. They are still a daily feature and each one still whacks me in the gut. I'm just praying they remain at their current reasonable (for C., that is) number.

I'm still somewhat apoplectic over the gulf there was between the "team's" approach to C.'s drug regimen and that of the new doctor who appeared only in week three of C.'s hospitalization. Within four days, he had removed Frisium and Phenytoin - two drugs that the "team" insisted C. would go home with.

Never mind that the regimen was rendering her incapable of eating or staying awake for more than an hour at a time.

I shudder to think where C. would be if he hadn't materialized. There must be plenty of patients who never benefit from his input. He spends three weeks of each month glued to his screen, scrutinizing imaging and other data from overseas stroke patients and prescribing treatment accordingly. Salaries here just aren't enticing enough for full time employment.