Bon appetit!Mom polished off a three-egg omelet with ham this morning. In the five years I worked in the Bryan hospital kitchen, I don't remember ever serving an omelet. I'm thinking Steven and I will be having omelets tomorrow morning! Maybe with hash browns. Maybe I should set my alarm a bit earlier. Of course, when I make omelets they turn into "scrangled eggs" (as one of the boys used to call scrambled).
The Compassionate Internist took Mom off the IV today since she is getting plenty of fluids orally. She actually has some edema from fluid retention in her normally slender ankles. Good-looking ankles run in Mom's family from her mom's side. We may be Rubenesque elsewhere, but the ankles are slender. So, let's hope the fluid retention is on its way out!
Mom has been clear-headed since Monday noon. (I am still waiting for the Arby's to arrive for dinner, though!) The Gastro Doc reduced the steroid dosage by half, then by half again. This week there's a new Gastro Doc on call at the hospital. You can't tell the players without a program in this large medical group. He's the one who has Mom on the steroids. Now he says she must have a blood transfusion to get everything "in balance". The transfusion is being done this evening over a three to four-hour period. Dad says it is one unit of blood. I wish I could supply everyone involved with the lovely plastic vampire teeth we've been handing out to the kids in our classes this week.
Mom is still on a gluten-free diet, but none of the doctors are sold on that celiac/sprue diagnosis. They feel that results from blood samples sent to Mayo Clinic and to somewhere in California will soon come together to give a clear indication of the cause of this whole mess.
Dad is pleased because the snowblower is back home from its $100 tune-up (once per decade since 1984), and ready for winter. Hope he doesn't have to deal with snow any time soon, but he is prepared. We didn't talk long, as he was on his way to the basement freezer to snag a microwave dinner to nuke before he went back to the hospital. May we all be coping so well when we are 81 and a half, as my preschoolers would say.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
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