The Providence Hotel

It is my turn to blog (Sami). This is our 11th day here at the Providence Hotel, day “+7” in terms of the transplant. Don is progressing through the various stages of this thing without any complications or surprises. So, I thought I would talk a bit about our long-term hospital stay. A typical day goes like this...

4:00 A.M.

The night nurse comes quietly into our room and takes Don’s “vitals” and blood samples. Don always awakens for this as he has to stand up to be weighed. Sometimes I am aware of this and sometimes I sleep right through, cozy in my blow-up bed on the floor behind a curtain.

7:00-ish.

We wake up. The day shift begins at 7:00, and the night nurse updates the day nurse about Don’s situation. It is nice to be included in this conversation and it is nice to see how carefully they are watching every detail. We are given the days “numbers” (platelets, hemoglobin, etc.). Don transfers the numbers to an Excel spread sheet he has created on his Kindle (are we surprised by this? NO).

I pad down the hall in my slippers, jammies, and robe to the “family room,” to use the bathroom (I can not use Don’s) and fetch coffee for us both. We read the newspaper on our Kindles and sip coffee, just like we do at home. I give Don yogurt and crackers from the little fridge in his room, because an empty stomach sometimes causes nausea, and his breakfast doesn’t show up until later.

Don focuses on his Kindle

8:30 A.M.

By this time the nurse has given him a check-up and put a multitude of pills in a little cup for him to take; his “morning meds.” She tells him what each one is and what side effect it mitigates, and how it works. Everything is charted using barcodes. They scan Don’s wrist bracelet to register his barcode and scan each code on each pill package and bag of liquid.

Breakfast for Don arrives, and he usually eats it all. I pull hard boiled eggs and fruit from home out of the fridge, or go down to the cafeteria for one of their made-to-order omelets and join Don eating breakfast. However I usually do breakfast "in," because I prefer to stay in the room where I can stay in my pjs longer, just like at home.

Through the morning and afternoon there is little routine, although we usually see the doctor who does another mini-exam and talks to us about things. We see any one of four doctors who make up the “transplant team.” Don snoozes a lot, reads, works on a jig saw puzzle, or checks email and writes in the blog. For the last week a thick fog has rolled in each morning, obscuring our view to the north and down on the railroad tracks and the freeway. Makes us feel even more like we are in a bubble, isolated from the rest of the world. But we hear the muted sounds of the trains and MAX and the cars going by on the freeway. Another ever-present sound is the “positive pressure” air system in our room. It is rather loud and very constant. It maintains clean air in the room that stays in the room, and keeps the hallway air out.

The day is broken up with the occasional beeping of one of the many pieces of machinery that pump various liquids into Don’s blood. They beep when the batteries run low or when a bag empties. Nurses and assistants come in and chat and take care of Don and the room.

Rian, one of the great day nurses, adding yet another pump.

I have continued some of my regular outside activities, such as, uke lessons, exercise, and visiting with friends. I go home every couple of days to do laundry, pay bills, and keep the cats company. But I return each night. Other people keep the cat’s dishes full morning and evening.

12:30 P.M.

Lunch time. The afternoon is more of the same. Don walks around the halls two or three times every day. Now that his immune system is very low he wears a mask in the halls. A “nutrition” staff person comes around three times a day to take Don’s meal orders. Don’s linens are changed and his room cleaned every day.

6:30 P.M. Dinner time. The staff turns over again at 7:00 P.M. (12-hour shifts) and once again they come into our room for a briefing. More pills. After dinner Don showers, a combination of a wash-up at the sink and a shower using a hand-held nozzle. The important thing is to keep the dressing on his indoor-outdoor plumbing (catheter) dry. Don manages it, and all daily activities on his own. Clean pjs are donned and we settle into a Netflix show or two on Don’s laptop. Don drinks his Mag-Al (to ease heart burn, caused by the chemo) and I sip a glass of wine. Don is usually snoring by 10:00 or 11:00 P.M. Sometimes I read a bit or watch another show using my Kindle and headphones while tucked into my bed. They take vitals again at midnight. Neither one of get fully awake for that.

We communicate almost entirely electronically with friends and family. But yesterday Carl dropped by to bring my cell phone to me, as I had left it at home. The masks are an added precaution due do Don's very low white blood cell count.

We may be here for another five to seven days. This morning the doctor said that although Don is doing great he will remain fatigued and still suffer some side effects of the chemo for weeks after he gets home. He will not regain his normal vitality and strength for several months.

For the most part, the experience has been peaceful and the days do roll by. We feel very well taken care of here at the Providence Hotel.