Ok, now where was I. Ah yes.
Wednesday. Still in the hospital, and not one doctor has said "you can go home today". But the catheter is still in...we're hoping it'll come out today.
Appearance wise, he's looking better.
Not his hands, though. The broken wrist was wrapped up in bandages, but his fingers were swollen to what appeared to be a painful size, and were shades of greenish black. (Honestly, the picture really doesn't do them justice, they were much greener, dark green.) They have made me cry, several times. I look at them and cry a bit.
We settle into our "morning routine", tea (with no milk for Richard, due to the liquid diet), the newspaper and the morning news. Get Richard washed up, change the bedding, change the hospital gown. A few hours pass...
Great news...the catheter is coming out today! The catheter comes out, the liquid diet goes out the window, he can get out of bed to pee....things are starting to look up. OK, this is a bright spot, and we're both encouraged. Removal is short and sweet. Lunch is ordered up, and the physical therapists come again to work with Richard.
That was the plan. But he still can't put any weight on his ankle, and only a bit on his other knee. They are both swollen, and he really can't walk more than a few steps. Sitting up in the chair is too painful for him to bear for more than 10 minutes. Lunch comes, he eats a bit, and can't keep it down. (Actually, I used the term "lunch" very loosely. These pictures are of the PRMC version of "Hawiian Chicken" and "chocolate pudding". As you can see, it was a big hit with Richard.)
Dr. Cuomo comes in in the afternoon, to talk about Friday's surgery. It's obvious now that Richard won't be coming home until at least Saturday. But we both know that there are so many questions that need answers, and he's in the best place to try and get these answers.
For the two days that follow, basically not too much happens; we wait for Friday. We find out the surgery isn't until 2:45 pm, which stinks. Waiting all day for anything is hard, because theres no food, no drinking all day. We pass the time as best we can. Richard doesn't really improve at all during these two days. He's not getting a whole lot of rest though; he's had a series of roommates that are pretty hard of hearing, plus most of the hospital staff feel the need to TALK VERY LOUDLY and move the furniture all around when they come in to take care of him. Plus he can't remember how to work the television, so he calls the nurse once every twenty minutes or so. We chuckled about it in the beginning, but at this point, there's not much we can laugh about.