8 September 2007

Me and Ilse drove down from East London today. Mom has been here exactly a week and Lynette flew down yesterday morning. We saw Colin this afternoon and this evening. He is still in ICU and will apparently be here for a lengthy period of time. This afternoon we spoke to two sisters – both started off aggressively. The one because there were three of us at his bedside instead of two and the other because I was reading the charts at Colins bed. My mom tried to reason with the first one but to no avail, and although my first reaction was to be sarcastic or equally officious with the other one, I suppressed the emotion and ended up trying to draw whatever information I could out of her. It turned out that she actually didn’t know much, and in retrospect, probably knew nothing about Colin, and was probably guessing about what she told us.

This evening visit was like a breath of fresh air by comparison. The sister was sent straight from nursing heaven. Friendly, compassionate, caring, a real lady of the lamp. She explained to us that although they were not permitted to express opinions to family members, she was of the view that Colin had definitely contracted pneumonia and that he would be in ICU for a long time. How long is a long time is anyone’s guess, it seems. Even our angel wasn’t prepared to commit herself on that one. She didn’t seem to be overly concerned about Colin’s appearance and indicated to the patient next to us who was seeing visitors and looking quite good, who she said had been flat lining a few days before.

This morning his heart rate was 68, but this afternoon it had shot up to 128 and his temperature was 38.5. This evening his heart rate was down to 122 but I didn’t check his temperature although it felt hotter. They are taking regular cultures of lung fluid, blood, urine and testing to see what the best antibiotics are to give him. His lungs have obviously been compromised by years of abuse and it will obviously take longer than normal before they heal. Hopefully he will be able to leave the smokes behind him. We asked the sister whether his body and his heart in particular could sustain such a high heart rate. She assured us that it would be no problem for someone “as young as Colin”.

Being on such heavy sedation, and being artificially ventilated has a number of unpleasant but unavoidable consequences. One of them is that when they wean the patients off the sedatives that they suffer from withdrawal symptoms. The patient in the bed next to Colin was going through such a process and was moaning and growling into his oxygen mask. They also have to wean them off the ventilator and this they have to do whilst the patients are conscious, and this is apparently quite difficult, and if he remains on the ventilator for a few more days, might have to perform a tracheotomy, which sounds scary, but is quite a routine procedure, which makes breathing and draining the lungs a lot easier.

His status remains critical but relatively stable. His hands and neck are swollen but this is apparently a normal consequence of the ventilation. He opened his eyes a few time this afternoon, but there was clearly nobody home. Pupils were rolled back in the sockets and he reminded me of the patient in the movie “Jacobs Ladder” which some of you might be familiar with. I am sure he is going through similar journeys and battles. It is quite scary to think that as we speak and go about our daily routine, that he is there, lying on his back, panting through a small hole in his mouth, with oxygen being forced down tubes into his lungs. On the positive side, the oxygen supply being given to him is set at the minimum setting. The original plan was to take him off the ventilator today, but it seems like it might still be a few days before that happens.

Obviously there is no interaction between us – it is possible but unlikely that he can actually hear what we are saying, if he can hear anything at all. He was apparently fighting against the tubes this afternoon and they had to sedate him a bit more but apparently that is quite normal.

There is some confusion and conflicting reports about whether Colin’s hospital plan pays for all of this as it is obviously an expensive exercise. I have got all the relevant phone numbers and will be writing letters and sending faxes on Monday, to find out exactly what the position is. Colin was quite concerned about the financial implications after the accident, and so are we, and will be quite relieved once we know what the position is. The conflicting reports range from yes we cover three days in hospital to yes we cover 100 days in hospital so there’s quite a difference. If its only three days at least we know that we’ve got to start making contingency plans. As far as the hospital is concerned we are all really impressed with it. It imparts confidence, although sometimes some of the staff seem a bit detached and uncaring, as if the patients are just on a production line. I also get the feeling that because we are in another town, and don’t know the doctors personally, that we are treated a little as “outsiders”. Thank heavens for that caring sister this evening – I told her that she is an angel.

Me and Ilse are returning to East London tomorrow after visiting hour, and Lynetter either later or on Monday. Mom will probably remain here till he gets out of ICU or comes off the critical list. I will probably come back next weekend by which time I am sure things will be looking up a lot.

I don’t think heaven is ready for Colin yet. He’ll cause too much disruption. Will report again asap.