Moving Along

I'd like to be able to write something witty and uplifting tonight, but really all of us are just whipped. Here is a quick rundown on Ginny's condition:  She's breathing 50% oxygen through a nasal cannula.  We removed her arterial line and discontinued all of her IV meds, but she still has the IV's in her hand and foot, as well as the PICC line, but the PICC is coming out in the morning after they draw her labs.  (Lord help them if they have to draw more...)   She's getting the CPT chest pounding every few hours which results in a productive cough.  A few days ago we were worried about her not having a bowel movement. Now they're worried about having to paint the room after we leave... (It's not that bad, but things are moving.)  All good things.

She's on methadone for a few more days to ease her off the other narcotics.  Even though she's only been on them a week, she's having visible withdrawal symptoms like the shakes and restless legs, and sometimes we find her just staring off into space.  She's not spoken but a half dozen words since we extubated her last night, but we have gotten her to smile a few times. She gets deathly afraid of anyone in scrubs, and was actually afraid of Rachel when she put on gloves to change a diaper. Considering how much she's been through, I can't say I blame her. 

The fact that she's not speaking, combined with the fact that she's not taken anything by mouth has me a little concerned, but that is probably just due to having a lot of irritation in her throat from the ET tube.  If she doesn't start eating or drinking by morning, we'll have to give her IV fluids and investigate what the problem is.  I'm sure that will work itself out.  The kid just does things on her own schedule.  

The thought in the back of my head was that we could probably be home by Sunday.  That might be a little ambitious by a day, but it could still come true if Ginny decides to cooperate.  But then, why start now.