On Tuesday my pal John went to the hospital and stayed there until last night. Big upfront notice: it was not COVID, altho' we thought it was at first from the symptoms. (We're all much relieved it isn't.)
John had been feeling extreme exhaustion and shortness of breath for several days. It got to the point where he couldn't walk a block without having to rest. Those are two of the symptoms of COVID, plus extreme thirstyness all the time. John has just thought he was out of shape.
But: his blood sugar had SPIKED beyond the ability of the clinic we first went went before the hospital to measure on their equipment (over 400). That ain't good.
John has diabetes type-2, and so far we have been effectively treating it with pill meds.
However: he'd run out of his meds that week, and his primary care physician did not return calls to have them refilled. They didn't from the drug store either. John's PCP is MIA. Remember these events? Same doctor. (Update: Turns out they closed their office during COVID, but zero notification of that on their outgoing message, and eventually the answering machine filled up and wouldn't take any more new messages. After all this occurred I got myself a new primary care physicain, you bet.
John stayed three days in the hospital (a block away from our home, so Randi could visit him. He was pretty well taken care of but the wheels of progress run exceedingly slow in a hospital. Whenever they tell you that you should be discharged, add another day.
For instance: the results to the COVID test, which take six hours to determine, took about 18 hours to filter back to us. (He was on an isolation ward and supposed to be transferred to a regular room after that on Wednesday, but we never made it out of that one room.)
It was obviously a repurposed room, since it had this piece of mechanical equipment sitting next to the bed. (Sound up!) Made the room very noisy and hot and kept John sleepless most nights.
Here was the only window in the hospital room. The blinds were covered in glass so you couldn't open them, so zero natural light.
The most frustrating thing, tho', was getting multiple and conflicting answers to questions about important things. John's taking insulin now, and was told these conflicting things: 1 dose a day/2 a day; 10 units/12 units; need physical therapist/don't, and many others.
Also: we had to insist on demonstrations of how to test for blood numbers and how to inject insulin. Both eventual demonstrations involved equipment that was not what we eventually got. Most egregiously, they showed us needle/bottle insulin and we got pen-injection insulin.
So we were (and continue to be) very frustrated by lack of communication, conflicting information, and poor process skills for discharge.
Luckily the wonderful Randi was there to really insist on info and ask questions (again and again) about what was going on. This was hard. I can't imagine how hard it would be for a person on their own, especially anyone with English as a second language or hearing difficulties.
So, to make a long story tedious, we did get the info and instruction and meds we needed altho' one pill was still delayed. Our med insurance does not cover meds for diabetes* (!?!?, that would be a whole other thread on how we found that out)... * Update: eventually we found that it does cover insulin.
To conclude: we're home (yay!) and John is fine, though his routine will change, and he's up for the task.
Thank you all for your kind thoughts and wishes! We all really appreciate them.
Of course a little stuffed bull loves pal John so much that I'll readily deal with one of the consequences: no cookies.
And thanks for letting me write this in third person for John. He says he loves you all.
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