The Blog of mamapolo

I have decided that bipolarism is not caused by chemical imbalances - it's caused by hospitals. I know they've worked their magic on me.

Don't get me wrong - hospitals are amazing places that do miracles as a matter of routine. But when your loved one is in a hospital, it's like the weather - if you don't like your mood, just wait. Up, down, up, down, up, up, up, down. UP!  Well, you get the idea. By contrast, roller coasters are smooth and steady.

After the devastating blow of the psych report - that casual, almost off-hand, "Cause is likely organic," I went to war.

Hospital psychiatrists are as elusive as the unicorn. Presumably they exist, they write reports and stuff, but just try to find one! I never did locate the shrink, but I did pin down a nurse practitioner, an imperious, haughty pregnant chick whose entire demeanor said, "I'm going to tell you whatever I can just to get you to go away." I assured her I wasn't going to go away until I got some answers, which I didn't get, from her, but I did get that valuable piece of information - another name, another number.

Eventually, late Monday, I spoke to the psychiatric nurse practitioner, who was a kind and cooperative soul and took the time to review the report. One of the unsettling things about this entire sojourn is that while I have only one husband (well, one current husband), they have many patients. It is odd to have to explain which patient they wrote off with few hasty strokes of a pen.

At last she was reminded enough of who Tim was that she said, "Oh, yes! I remember now. I was in for that consult. It was our opinion that this is transient - caused by delirium, not dementia." (Delirium being the same behavior as dementia, caused by environmental, medical and traumatic impacts instead of physical factors. Delirium is temporary, dementia is, for the most part, not. This is not a medical definition, but mine.)

Yeah, what I said. Then I set about getting that little notation, "cause likely organic," removed from his records. I have seen too many instances where something like that changed the entire direction of someone's medical life (oh, well, no point in looking for the cause for THAT, we already know it....). I think I was successful. It's hard to know for sure.

This only reinforced my conviction that I had to get Tim out of Shadyside Hospital and into a rehab here in Uniontown. I am convinced, down to my bone marrow, that - what is it, now? long enough to qualify for free parking - yes, today is the 26th day of THIS hospitalization - 26 days in a hospital bed without all the other drawbacks would drive pretty much anybody mad.

So - I began lobbying harder for the transfer. As of yesterday, Thursday, it was all go. The rehab had a bed, I had sitters lined up from Comfort Keepers, and the hospital social worker was waiting only for the doctor's release before arranging the transport. Tim was coming "home", Thursday evening.

Tim had had a slight fever on Wednesday evening, but when I called the nurse at midnight, it was normal, and it was normal on Thursday morning. However, since my research on ICU psychosis (I may write a treatise on AFTER-ICU psychosis) indicated that it can be caused by other factors such as an infection, and Tim was extremely agitated and out-of-mind all day on Wednesday, I was worried there was something brewing at one of the intrusion sites (IVs, ports, feeding tube). I requested they test for infection.

They did (maybe, let's hope, they were going to anyway), and late yesterday afternoon the test reults showed he did indeed have an infection. They started antibiotics, but since UPMC is now a "paperless" environment, the nurse told me, and their computers were down, the consulting doctor on infectious diseases was unable to review everything and pinpoint the precise treatment course to take. They hoped to do that today. I am puzzled about this, since the psych report I saw was on a clipboard with Tim's records, on paper. I was too tired to pursue it, though.

So, having stayed home all day to arrange things financial and logistical, I got in my Yaris (which had less than 600 miles on it when this started in July and now has 6000) and headed for Shadyside at 6:00 pm.

By the time I got to Pittsburgh, traffic was reasonable and we were streaming down Rte. 51 about a mile before Brentwood Towne Square at about 40 mph.

There was an abrupt, loud THUMP, and the Yaris shook. I caught a blur of brown through my front passenger window and another softer but terrifying thump as the rear wheel rolled over the victim.

It is truly a wonder I didn't have a heart attack on the spot. Panic shot through my veins like acid - it physically burned. "I hit somebody, somebody small. Oh, dear Heaven."

The Oriental restaurant Pan Asia was on my right and I whipped into the parking lot, shaking all over. I leaped out of the car, leaving it running with the door standing open and raced to the other end of the parking lot.

A deer lay there on the far side of the street. A deer? In Pittsburgh? It was thrashing but its movements were slowing. A deer. Thank God. Poor deer, but thank God.

I threw up there in the Pan Asia parking lot. Then I went back to my car and cried with terror and relief for a few minutes, called Abby. Then it occurred to me that I had heard of a lot of instances where an animal supposedly dead got up and ran off, and I was afraid it might cause more havoc if that happened. I called 911, and was told to wait in my car until the police arrived. I'm not sure why, unless they thought the deer might want to prefer charges.

But I waited, since I have that compulsive rule-following thing. By the time the police officer arrived (he was approximately 11 years old), the deer was dead. An examination of the Yaris showed only a small dent in the door - the deer had actually hit me instead of the reverse.

Then I went on to the hospital, dreading facing Tim, fearing not only the Tim of the day before, but a Tim disappointed because the transfer to Mt. Macrina had fallen through. He was calm and smiling, and tucked my hand between both of his on his chest and after a brief chat (he thought the deer story was funny, the jerk), he fell asleep.

His temperature was normal, and was again this morning. I'm going to leave for the hospital soon. (I am a little curious, although I pray we're not there long enough to find out - for the first 10 days or so, validated parking was $7.50 for seven hours or longer. On the 11th day (or so) I got a pass, left for me in Tim's room, for $3.50 parking for 24 hours. Yesterday there was a free parking pass - unlimited parking for zero bucks. A notation on the free pass says it's good until 11/20/08. What happens then, do you suppose? They start paying ME?)

And how was YOUR day, dear?

(Author's note: I said earlier in this blog entry that there wasn't much damage to my car - and compared to the damage to my psyche, there wasn't. However today as I left for the hospital, I noticed some minor rumpling of the front panel in front of the passenger door, and later, as I was changing lanes, I checked my passenger side rearview mirror - and it wasn't there. THAT explained the shards of black plastic scattered over the street where the deer attacked me.)