When you consider everything my beautiful wife has been through these past two and a half months, it’s really amazing how she’s managed to keep her sense of humour.
In fact, her attitude to getting home has been excellent – even the staff have commented. She’s driven. And it appears Tracey will stoop to anything to get herself out of hospital and back to us.
Earlier this morning Tracey phoned me up giggling.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said.
She’d shuffled out to the vending machines in the hallway to buy herself a drink of water and noticed some yummies. In the last week, since eating solids, Tracey has gained one and a half kilos.
“I don’t think I’ve ever fist pumped because I’ve put on weight,” she told me over the phone. “But it means my bowel is taking nutrients from the food.”
“Keep this up,” I said, “and this time next year you’ll have gone up a couple of dress sizes.”
Then we both cheered at the idea.
All this fattening up means there’s less chance she’ll need the TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition, her intravenous feed bag) going forward. In fact, things are going so well at the moment they’ve thrown out their original plan to get her home sometime in January because in just a week of solids she’s hit all the marks. Her leaks are producing less fluids as well and there’s a decent chance in the long run she won’t even have bags hanging off her stomach.
In fact, Dr Brown says they’re running out of excuses to keep her in hospital and Tracey’s team of medicos have indicated she might even be discharged as soon as late next week.
The upshot of this is Tracey feels justified, if not obligated, to eat junk food.
“For medical reasons,” she assures me.
So Tracey grabbed some more change and shuffled back to the vending machines. She popped the coins in the slot, pressed the appropriate buttons, and the Burger Rings dropped. So did some coins.
“I had to get down on the floor to reach them,” said Tracey. “Only then I couldn’t get up. My legs weren’t strong enough and there was nothing to grip onto.”
Meaning Tracey floundered on the floor, waving her hands and eventually hollering until some nurses from a different ward happened upon her and, with the additional muscle of a passing physio, helped her up.
“The lengths you’ll go to for a pack of bloody chips,” I laughed with her. She was lying in bed chomping down on her hard earned reward because her legs were so sore from her exertions.
“It was worth it.”
That’s my girl.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”