Korle Bu: Day 2/Night 2

This morning, I beg the nurses to take the IV drip out of Alex’s hand for a little while, so that she can have a shower. Now, I’ve already been down the hall (at about 4:30 am since I couldn’t sleep) and had my morning shower. The water is cold, in case you hadn’t guessed, there’s no hot water heater here. But it’s a refreshing cold, you know, so it didn’t bother me. Yeah, and tofu tastes like chicken. But I can’t subject that to Alex, so I heat up water in a kettle and pour it into our shower bucket, so she can at least have a bucket shower in warm water. I realize that it will be a bit tricky for her to have a shower but not get water on the bandage, so we wrap her hand up in a plastic bag and I wash her down. She’s mostly clean. Good enough.

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The blood sugar meter we’re using is a OneTouch Ultra 2, and I assume it must be fairly new on the market, because the nurses have never seen this one before. No one knows how to work it. So, they ask me. They’re asking me? How the hell do I know how it works? I take the instruction booklet, and try to figure it out myself. Settings, time, readings… okay, I think I’ve got it. For the first 24 hours, the nurses come in and get the meter from me, then do the test on Alex. I’m forewarned, though; today I’m going to start learning how to do this myself. Guess I’ve got no choice, unless I take a nurse home to live with us.

The nurses come in the early afternoon to teach me how to take Alex’s blood sugar readings and how to give her an injection. This ought to be good. A group of about 4 of them stand over me to watch, it must be a pretty funny sight, or else it’s a slow day on the ward. Alex is biting her lip. I know she’s nervous, and I’m nervous, but this has got to be done.

Okay, wipe off the finger tip, put the strip into the meter… no the other way, check the code. Wait, where’s my glasses? I can’t see without my glasses (it sucks getting old). Check the code, what code? Oh, okay, that code. Got it, match. Now prick her finger. Damn, I wish I didn’t have to do this. Jab. Blood. Good, that’s what I was hoping to get. Enough for the reading? Counting down: 5-4-3-2-1. Success!! She’s HI. So what else is new?

Now the insulin shot. I’m an old pro at shots, or so I think. I used to be an IVF patient, and sometimes had to do this kind of stuff to myself. I’ve got to first draw air into the syringe up to the 4 unit mark (God, the markings on this thing are so tiny!), then inject the air into the vial while it’s upside down. Then, I’ve got to draw the 4 units into the syringe. Remove the syringe, wipe down Alex’s arm and inject. No problem. I can do that. Like riding a bicycle. It all comes back to you, right? Except, I do it wrong.

Back in the old IVF days (15+ years ago, mind you), you kind of made a dart throwing motion to get the needle past the thick skin of your butt. I did this to Alex’s skinny little upper arm. She yelped and the nurse oh, oh, ohed, and I knew I screwed up. Gently, gently. Pinch the skin and insert the needle a bit shallowly. Shit. I hurt my daughter. She’s rubbing her arm and shooting daggers out of her eyes. Is this going to get easier?

The nurses depart (with a story to laugh about for at least a week or so), and Alex is apparently already over the needle fiasco, asking me what’s for lunch. God, isn’t it great how kids bounce back? Well, not sure what lunch is going to be, since Sly hasn’t gotten here yet. The fridge is stocked with fruit, milk, yogurt and cheese, and we’ve got corn flakes and cream crackers on standby. After the prerequisite 30 minute after injection wait, I make Alex up a plate of everything. She eats ravenously, and it’s really nice to see, since she had no appetite over the past few weeks.

Sly finally arrives back at noon, but he can’t stay that long. We have to send him on another errand for more insulin, and he has to go to two labs for the test vials for more of Alex’s blood work. Normally, the patient would go to the lab, make the payment and then they’d take the sample and run the test. With Alex hooked up to the IV, Sly had to do the preliminaries, then we had to get a doctor on the ward to draw the blood, then Sly had to deliver the samples back to their respective labs. Poor Sly. But I am so thankful he’s here, otherwise I’d have to do it. By the time he comes back from running all around the hospital grounds, its 2:30 pm. His cell phone rings. Problem. Its our taxi driver who calls to say that because it’s Friday the boys got out of school early. Crap. We totally forgot. We tell Ekow to take the boys to a local café and let them have something to drink and Sly will be home as soon as he can. Oh, well. They’ll live.

Before he leaves, Sly goes off to get us some food, fried fish, kenkey and white rice. That’s dinner for both of us, plus her fruit, milk, cheese, etc. She’s turning into a little pig, but it’s good.

Alex’s blood sugar levels keep saying HI, and the nurses think that maybe the meter is broken, but when she’s tested on another meter, they both read the same. I guess we’ll just have to wait for the drip to flush her out more.

Another long night is ahead of us, but at least this time we know what to expect. Or so I think. About 2:00 am, Alex wakes up and says she has to use the toilet. Not the bedpan, but the toilet, she’s got to go. Now, she’d been constipated for a couple of days, and nothing seemed to loosen her up at all. I’m thinking maybe all this drip is softening the system up, you know. So, off we trot down the hall to the bathroom, and we stop at the nurses’ desk to get unhooked from the drip.

She goes in and sits and sits and sits. Nothing. I’m waiting outside, poking my head in every few minutes. Nothing. Ten or fifteen minutes of nothing. I suggest she forget about it and try later. No such luck. She absolutely refuses. She says, “It’s right there and it’s got to come out and I’m not leaving until it does.” She’s almost in tears. Thirty minutes later, and she’s still sitting there. Finally, I hear noises, and its not just grunting and heavy breathing. Persistence pays off. I retrieve the water to flush, and she gets reattached to her drip, then we’re back in the room washing our hands and sanitizing and she goes back to sleep with a peaceful look on her face. Cue the James Brown, “I Feel Good” music.

Good night.