The ER of a big city hospital is a crazy, surreal place at 11:00 p.m. on a Monday night. I don't know if this is true of all ERs, but according to the nurse I spoke to, Monday is always the busiest night at the downtown hospital we visited.
GH spiked a 103°F fever last night. Yikes. One call to the oncologist later, we were on our way to the hospital. Luckily, a friend was able to come over and be on baby duty. Also luckily, GH's doc had called the ER to let us know he was coming in, so they saw us right away, saving us from a wait among the crush of humanity that was literally overflowing the ER waiting room. There were no chairs, and lots of clearly contagious people everywhere. I don't want to be a snob, and I feel for people who don't have health care and have to use the ER as their primary care source. But that doesn't mean that I want my seriously immunocompromised husband to spend time there.
The ER docs and nurses were awesome, really professional and nice. Once GH was set up with IV fluids and anitbiotics and it was clear that he was going to spend the night, I went home to catch some shut-eye. The babies cut me a break and slept until 6:45 a.m., thank goodness. The twins and I spent a nice morning together, then I took them to daycare.
I spoke with GH before I left the house. He's waiting for his oncologist to drop by, but the hospital doc has indicated that he will likely spend one more night at the hospital. They suspect an infection in the fluid that is collecting in his abdomen. Hopefully the triple-threat antibiotic they put him on will knock that right out.
Time for me to shower and head downtown, with a coffee stop along the way.