Leonard D. Hilley II's Blog, page 4

DAY 7: Wife’s Update & Better News

Here we are at one full week of Christal being in the hospital. 

During the past week, as I’ve mentioned in several of the posts, no one was updating me every 12 hours about her condition like I was told I would be on Day One. I received a call yesterday from a great guy that works for the hospital’s excellence services. He asked how circumstances were and if I had any suggestions or comments toward how Christal’s care was and were they keeping in touch with me.

I responded kindly and informed him that (as of yesterday) 4 nights and 3 mornings had passed without anyone calling to update me on her condition. There was an obvious pause on his end. I further explained that the two NPs I told this to had said that they’d make sure the shift nurses would call, but no one had.

I also expressed how both Christal and I were against them giving her one drug, and even though we both had stated it, the NPs kept trying to push it on her. We talked about some other issues, and then he gave me his personal number to call if we had any further problems.

About an hour passed and he called me back. He said that the issue of no one calling me had been addressed and I should rest assured that it would not happen again. Then he said that the drug they were insisting she use was addressed and it was clear to the doctors and staff that it would not be administrated. He asked if I had any other issues or questions. I did not. Gracious, wonderful man.

Now, let’s elaborate the situation about the drug and NPs’ insistent directive that it should be used and thankfully, it was not. My wife was having great difficulty breathing and they kept turning up her oxygen and saying that she needed the drug to fight the viral pneumonia. They ‘didn’t understand’ why when she’d get up to go to the restroom that her heart rate spiked upward and her O2 dropped.

Last night, her nurse came to check on her and my wife had dozed off. She couldn’t breathe and when she was awakened, they turned up her 02 to 15. The nurse got someone from the respiratory department and they brought a different gauge for her nose. The former had been the normal thin tubing but my wife has a severe deviated septum, so the tube was not feeding her enough oxygen. When she moved or tried to lie to her side, it would slip loose, and she’d get even less oxygen. After hooking up the thicker one that fit her nose even better, she was able to finally get the air she needed. The nurse noticed upon her next return that Christal was looking better and she even told her how much better she looked.

Christal has more energy and sent me a pic of a bunny she drew with her art pencils and pad. It’s one of the cutest pictures she’s drawn. She was having all these problems because she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. We’re hopeful that she’s able to heal faster now and be out within a few days.

Imagine the damage that might have been done had she taken the drug.

Thanks for the prayers and kind words! 

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DAY 5: Wife’s Status

We are so grateful for your prayers, encouragement, and kind words you’ve expressed to us during the past several days. I’ve not given up hope, but I’ve grown weary. The mental battle to remain strong is stressful and tiring.

Christal has been my rock, support, and biggest fan/critic of my novels. To be truthful, and I’ve stated this in the front dedications of my books, without her, I’d never have returned to my passion as a writer. And now, when she needs me the most, I cannot be (physically) there for her. In my previous post I mentioned ‘keeping my cool’ while on the phone with the hospital, but ‘keeping my composure‘ is more accurate. It’s all I can do NOT to break down on the phone if I get to talk to someone working with her. If my voice cracks, it’s over. I’d be a mess for someone to translate over the phone.

Last night makes the 3rd night NO ONE has called and updated me about her condition. No one called yesterday morning at the shift change, either, and they had told me when I couldn’t see her after they admitted her that I’d be updated EVERY 12 hours. The Nurse Practitioner called around midmorning and asked if I’d been updated about Christal’s condition. I explained I hadn’t and no one is keeping me updated. She saw my wife’s nurse while on the phone with me and said that she’d talk to her and make sure she called me last evening at the end of the shift. She didn’t. Either the NP lied OR the nurse ignored her instructions.

While on the phone with the NP, she said that she visited Christal and told her, “you look worse than you did the day before”. WTH? What kind of bedside manner is that? Psychologically, that’s like someone asking, “You like my new haircut?” “God no! I’d let that grow out before showing my face in public.” Such statements stab hope and lessen one’s self-esteem. Is this a scare tactic to get her to take meds with bad, often deadly, side-effects? Her double-cousin was put on what she’s declined twice and now he has a failing liver. Genetically, she is quite likely to suffer similar or worse end results.

They refuse to give her an alternate treatment. When I mentioned an option, the NP said, “We don’t use that here.”

The NP went on and said that even I had said that she shouldn’t take the medicine offered. I replied, “Have you read the side-effects?” (Not to mention, it’d takes over 10 days in the hospital to administer)

She said, “It’s better than death.” (NO LIE, she said that) A threat? I’m not sure how to take that. As a patient, she has the right to REFUSE any medication. The more I thought about what this NP said, the greater my stress became. Basically, it’s THIS or NOTHING.

There are safer alternatives but they refuse to use them.

Isolating people from their families, spouses, during their most vulnerable time is NOT healthy for the patient. She has viral pneumonia and the picture of the rash in an earlier post was sepsis.

Before all of this, she had a three-day break last week and we worked out together in the gym each day. She had expressed for weeks that she wanted to get back in shape, but our gym is no longer 24/7, so the open hours conflict with her work schedule. After our third day of working out, she thought she had a bladder infection and fever, so she went to a doctor. She took the meds and returned to work. At work, she had difficulty breathing. I’m certain wearing a mask didn’t help her situation. Of course, she didn’t know she had pneumonia, either.

I texted her last night and asked if she wanted me to call. She said to wait a while. She had dozed off and slumped down into the bed. This hindered her oxygen intake and when she awakened, she was having a hard time breathing. Another reason being isolated is dangerous.

Yesterday, I spent a lot of the morning cleaning and vacuuming the house to get rid of dust. I used Lysol to sanitize couches and bathrooms, etc.  I rewashed blankets, sheets, and pillow cases (3rd time since had first gotten fever). Knowing she’d need a humidifier when she gets home, I drove to Lowe’s to find a decent one and a song came on the radio, so I started singing along. It wasn’t a sad song. In fact, the song was cheerful, but involuntary tears leaked from the sides of my eyes, even though I didn’t feel like crying. I couldn’t stop them. It was then I realized my stress level, and I know Christal’s must be far worse. She wants to come home so badly and we thought her chances were much higher that she would yesterday.

There’s no price you can put on a loved one’s value in your life. Such an absence stings in a way I cannot describe. I’ve never taken Christal for granted, but when I dropped her off to work the last day I saw her, I never imagined she’d be stuck there for days.

I reached out to a criminal attorney that deals with medical malpractice to see what our options are. If they continue leaving me in the dark, we will transfer her to another hospital.

More soon …

 

 

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DAY 3, Still in Hospital

This is later than normal since NO ONE from the hospital updated me last night on my wife’s condition. If they’re not allowing me to visit, it’s the least they can do to keep me informed.

Nurse called this morning and wife’s HR and O2 (normal) levels have improved quite well. When asked if she’s able to come home, the reply was maybe in two days. Without losing my cool and after a thorough explanation of how my wife has told me she wants to come home and needs to come home (it was the first thing she told me via text this morning), she said that she’d leave a note for the day shift nurses and doctors.

I totally understand not discharging her yesterday because there’s nothing we can do at home to stabilize her increased heart rate. As for oxygen levels, she can get a script for home use oxygen.

Other than the doctor and nurses, she’s had no visitors; not even coworkers but they did send her flowers.

Isolation from friends and family isn’t healthy, especially for the sick. Search online and you’ll discover the thousands of people that died last year without being allowed visitors, and it was much higher in nursing homes.

If I could, I’d trade places with her.

Thanks for all the prayers and well-wishes! She’s quite appreciative! I’ll post more as I get news.

BTW, the reason I post on here and not FB is due to how FB censors others. Who knows what topic or word will trigger a brief stint in FB prison? A friend of mine posted a KETO peanut butter recipe and had it blurred for ‘sensitive information’. I’m not joking. I suppose in this day and age, just the thought of an allergy could cause anaphylactic shock or make someone break out with hives. Who knows?

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Wife’s Health Update

Thanks to everyone who has reached out with your prayers and well-wishes. That means the world to my wife and I.

She spent a second night in the hospital because she’s still having fever spikes and the CT revealed that she had a touch of pneumonia in one lung. With all the antibiotics they been giving her intravenously, the doctor believes the pneumonia will be knocked out, provided it’s bacterial pneumonia and not viral.

She’s had little sleep. Even days before she was admitted, she slept little for three days. She could never get comfortable. Her skin was so hot but our thermometer showed she had no fever. Now, I believe our thermometer was NOT working properly, as when she went to the ER, her temperature was close to 104. Her BP was high and her BP has always been on the lower end of the spectrum.

The picture shows her rash before she went to the ER. The rash has faded, but they still aren’t certain the reason for it. They’ve done a battery of blood tests and found nothing alarming. It’s now a matter of getting her BP and heart rate back to normal.

I brought her art pencils and pads to the hospital yesterday, but I was not allowed to see her or give them to her directly. I was told due to the current restrictions that they don’t want to chance someone passing Covid into or out of the hospital. This confuses me. They took the bag to her, which had to be carried by a person. The bag came from outside the hospital and was carried inside. There is NO logic to this.

While she was sick at home, I didn’t sleep in another room. I didn’t wrap myself up in sterile bubble wrap or wear a silver cross. We hugged. We kissed. And yet, I cannot see her now?

When someone’s sick, they need the comfort of their loved ones near them. Hopefully, she comes home today.

The hardest part for each of us is being isolated from one another. I’ve talked to her on the phone and her voice cracks sometimes, as does mine, as we each need to be together. I told the nurse and the person that took her art bag from me that the whole separation thing should be criminal. Isolation leads to depression, which lowers the immune system even more. The good thing is that she knows most of the staff and has friends there because it’s where she works. But what about the people who don’t and can’t have relatives and loved ones visit them?

She and I are soulmates. Somehow, we knew this before we met.

I don’t know that I’ve shared this in a blog or post before. It’s in my memoirs that I’m writing.

In December 1992, while we were both at Berea College, and before we ever spoke to one another, I was walking down the stairs to the lower dorm lobby and she was walking up. At the small square where the stairs turned to the left, I stepped aside so she could pass and head up. For several long seconds, we stopped and looked into each other’s eyes. I can’t explain the feeling but there was recognition for one another in our gaze. I read it in her eyes and she did in mine.

This wasn’t ‘love at first sight’. We saw and recognized that we fit and were meant to be together. Two months later, through a series of unusual circumstances, we were introduced and never left one another’s side. We’ve grown even closer through the years, had two wonderful children, and now are grandparents to two marvelous grandkids.

Being apart now, while she’s in the hospital, is a difficult ordeal for each of us.

Everywhere I look in our home has her touch and echoes her voice and laughter. Her absence reminds me of how much I love and need her. That loneliness is difficult.

Again, our friends and family, thank you for your prayers. She’s getting better and so we both hope she gets to come home today. Thanks for taking the time to remember her, us. You’re all fabulous!

 

 

The post Wife’s Health Update first appeared on Leonard D Hilley II.

Missing You

Last weekend and on the following Monday, my wife went to the gym with me. Since our gym is no longer 24/7, she’s not able to work out with me like she did. For years, we worked out about two hours/day, 5-6 times per week. After our third workout, she was sore, as was expected. However, during the night her skin became hot to the touch and a rash surfaced on her stomach. She took her temperature and was not running a fever.

Miserable and unable to sleep or rest, she took Ibuprofen for aches and pains. She called off from work and we went to a rapid care facility. They gave her a steroid shot to combat the rash and prescriptions. Thinking it might be Scarlet Fever, they performed a rapid Strep test, which came back negative, and then they did a longer culture test for Strep and said they’d call that afternoon with the results. They never called.

During the night, her skin became burning hot to the touch again and by morning, the rash was worse, covering her arms, her back, and her legs. Still, she didn’t have a fever. She called the clinic where she’d gone the day before and asked about her other Strep results. They told her the test came back negative. They told her to continue her meds and if matters became worse to come back or go to the ER. She stayed out from work a second day, drank lots of liquids, and took her prescribed medications. She spent the day resting.

The following morning, the rash had lessened and she had actually slept through the night without her skin radiating heat. She felt much better, so she went to work. Halfway through her shift, she got chills, and her supervisor told her to go to the ER. She did.

Her BP and heart rate were abnormally high. She was severely dehydrated, even though she’d been drinking lots of liquids the day before. She now had a fever. The rash confused the doctors, so they kept her for the night. They’re doing a lot of blood tests. Due to current Covid restrictions at the hospital, I’m not allowed to visit or stay with her.

After nearly 29 years of marriage, being apart from her while they’re trying to find out what’s causing the rash and her sickness is most difficult for both of us. Because she’s been put near the CT room, she has no cellphone connection so we could text one another, but she has called me several times. They are giving her fluids and antibiotics via an I.V. and the bloodwork should be back this morning. She should get to come home today. At least that’s what the doctor and nurses told us.

 I’m certain she’s not been able to rest well being in the hospital. I’ve tried to sleep, but when I finally doze off, I awaken when I reach for her and she’s not beside me. I told my daughter yesterday afternoon that it’s times like this when you truly realize how much you love and need someone; how important she is. She’s my best friend in the world. Please pray for her to have a speedy recovery.

Blessings to you all!

The post Missing You first appeared on Leonard D Hilley II.

Ever Gentle on my Mind

Some of my earliest memories are the countless hours on the highways and backroads traveling as our father drove to satisfy his curiosity (my guess, at least) by seeing places he’d never seen before. It’s a good thing children are resilient, as I don’t recall much of being confined inside a car for a dozen hours at a time, but I do remember a few of those places, which now paint landscapes in some of my stories.

Complete boredom often forces me to seek entertainment through my imagination, which probably sprouting from driving state to state. Our father once drove to Washington state from Alabama and back to pick up a friend. This long trip must have been a burden for my mother, as our father seldom ever rented a hotel room for us to sleep overnight. He’d drive until he was too tired and then had our mother drive a few hours while he napped. When they both grew too tired and we stopped somewhere to sleep, it was usually in a rest area or a parking lot.

On the way to Washington, I recall us parking in the lot of an apartment complex in Oregon, even though I was only four years old. I remember this because of how dark the night was. My father had gotten out at a payphone on the outskirts of the parking lot to call his friend and let him know where we were. While he made the collect call, my mother got out to stretch. He didn’t stay on the phone long and they hurried to get back inside the car. Their socks were covered with large fleas.

After they got rid of their socks, we parked outside an apartment and ate bologna sandwiches from a cooler. Before my parents napped and I fell to sleep, they discussed the darkness and how we couldn’t see our hands in front of our eyes with them only a few inches away. Their voices indicated their nervousness, probably because we were out-of-state strangers parked in the apartment parking lot. They chose to take short naps and get back on the road.

I suppose the eeriness of an overcast night without any street lights cemented this uneasiness into my memories and why most of my stories have dark settings. People tend to fear the unknown or what we cannot see in the absence of light, even if nothing is in the shadows. For my young age, this is the one element of the trip that I’ve never forgotten and a half century later, I can still picture it.

In later years, my mother remained quite bitter over this trip. She said that on our way back to Alabama, we passed a sign with an arrow pointing to view the Grand Canyon. We were only a mile from seeing it, but our father refused to take the time to stop. The stop was one of the lookout points, but he chose to continue driving. And since she knew at the time she’d never get another chance, she never let that grudge be buried.

Both of my parents told me about strange paranormal things they’d witnessed on the long narrow roads through Oregon and Washington. Traffic was thin, and late at night, about the only other vehicles on these roads were semis. Some of the roads they traveled were at high altitudes without guardrails. Both swear they’d seen strange events occur on these late nights in the middle of those thick forests. Whether those tales are true or not, I cannot say with absolute certainty. Sleep deprivation plays tricks on the mind, and both were avid fans of dark tales, television shows, and ghost stories. Had their imaginations gotten the best of them? Were they dreaming while they drove? I don’t think so. When two or more people tell with conviction of what they witnessed, even years later, some truth exists in what they saw. Perhaps in the future, I’ll be bold enough to share more.

My mother brought a few toys for me to play with on the long trip. These kept me occupied for a while. Other than the darkest night, I remember little more that I found alarming. I suppose I slept a lot. At least, during that time, children weren’t forced to be locked in carseats. Had I been, I might remember far more, due to frustration. But, the cars our father drove in the early 70s were usually large, so I had room to roam or lie in the back window and watch the endless passing lines of evergreens.

These scenic landscapes painted colorful, and sometimes dark, memories that are splashed on the canvases of my mind. Though young, a deep part of me must’ve remembered the discomfort of being trapped inside a vehicle for countless hours without a break. When I became a young father, when my wife and I took our children for trips or to visit family states away, I made sure to stop several times along the way. Of course, our trips never took half a day or longer to reach our destination. I never wanted my children to look back on our trips as burdensome times. I’ve always wanted them to have happy memories to cherish during their childhood. For me, so many are bittersweet, wishing we could’ve done more than we were able. But I hope they can look back and smile at the memories that are ever gentle on their minds.

The post Ever Gentle on my Mind first appeared on Leonard D Hilley II.

The Cook Walked Out!

During our vacation at Virginia Beach, we decided to eat at Cancun Fiesta.

We were quickly seated, and we waited for a server. And waited. Fifteen minutes passed, and even though three different workers kept walking between all the tables, no one came to even ask what we wanted to drink.

Finally, a young man stepped out and noticed. He went to the front of the restaurant and looked at a list on the podium, which I assume was the seating chart to determine what server should have our table. He promptly came to our table and asked what we’d like to drink. We told him and he vanished. Again, we returned to waiting.

After he brought our drinks, he hurried off and said that he’d be right back to take our order. We endured another long wait before his ultimate return. He took our order and about fifteen minutes later, we were served our meals.

The food was great but the service was not. While we were eating, this man walked out and started berating one of the servers. He was abusively yelling at her, and I guessed he was the manager. I thought how unprofessional, and our grandchildren, as well as everyone at the other tables, were upset at this outburst. After he finished his tirade, he disappeared into the back of the restaurant again.

People exchanged confused glances but continued with their meals.

About ten more minutes passed and this man came back out and started yelling at the woman again. This time he was closer to the front of the restaurant.

“I’ve been a cook for over thirty years!” he said, glaring at her. “The least you can do is get the orders right when you take them back. I’m tired of being told that it’s my fault when I cook what was ordered. You need to get the orders right!”

Four young men were seated a few feet away, and one of them turned and told the cook that this wasn’t the way he should be handling the situation in front of everyone else.

The cook grumbled something back at him, but then continued his argument with the female server. He took off his apron and said that he was done. She pointed toward the door and told him that if he wanted to leave, that he should, but if he walked out, not to return. Maybe she was a server and manager?

The cook left. Just like that, he walked out.

At least we had gotten our food, which was exceptional, but the overall experience was not. Others quickly paid their bills and hurried to the door, as did we. Our grandchildren weren’t the only children in there. Several older ladies at the table beside ours shook their heads and one said that she’d never seen anything like it.

When people go out to eat during vacation, they like to look back on the experiences. Well, this was one that’s unlikely to fade from my memory any time soon. The food was great, but I still wonder what happened afterwards. Did he return to work or find a job elsewhere?

Based on the poor service and extremely long wait before the outburst, I’d not have returned anyway.

Stay safe … More soon!

How to Get Better Seashells at the Beach

Years ago, when I was a teenager, our father took us to Myrtle Beach. Finding shells was exciting and we were able to gather quite a few during our weekend there.

Each time I’ve visited Virginia Beach, though, I’ve had a hard time finding them. That is, until this year.

While searching for shells, I noticed a man standing waist-deep in the ocean with a long-handled, heavy-duty net. After a few minutes, he returned to his wife and they started sorting through seashells. I never considered using a net, so that afternoon while we were shopping for souvenirs, I looked for one of those nets. I finally found one at Sunsations for approximately eight dollars. I couldn’t wait to see what I’d pull out of the ocean the next day.

I suppose there are different types of treasure. I also learned a lot about the tides and their strength. There’s an old adage that we should never turn our backs on the ocean. This is true. I got slammed twice and two other times, waves yanked the net out of my hand. Both of my knees were bloodied and bruised with bits of jagged shells and sand embedded in the skin on my kneecaps. Over a week later, my wounds are still healing.

Bags of shells to be cleaned and sorted.

I was rewarded with hundreds of great shells using the net, but I paid a price for them.

As the tides come in, seems to be the best time to use the net. I’d stand on the gritty trail of shells and stones and before the waves went out, I dragged the net across the shell debris, quickly turning it upward and then washing out the sand from the debris.

I got a few surprises, too. In one scoop I pulled up a pair of prescription glasses that someone was probably wishing they could find. I found a cigarette lighter and caught two hermit crabs.

Hermit Crab.

The last morning at the beach, something wrapped around my ankle, and for a moment, I feared it might be a jellyfish. Luckily, it was a lost T-shirt.

I found the bill of a small billfish in one scoop. Looks painful, if stabbed by or stepped upon.

Using the net was by far the best technique for getting great, nearly perfect shells, and I did this every morning for about an hour. I found some great stones and pieces of sea glass.

If you decide to try skimming for shells when you go to the beach, remember to watch your back.

Some of the best shells I’ve cleaned so far.

Having sand and broken shells embedded in your knees isn’t fun. I didn’t realize how deep the sand was beneath my skin until part of the scab loosened and sand was still in the wound.

Stay safe … More about the vacation soon!

An Alligator in Virginia?

During our trip back from Virginia Beach this past week, I noticed a dead animal on the side of I-64 near Charlottesville, VA. As the car ahead of us neared the carcass, a long slender animal scrambled away from the roadkill and quickly went under the guard rail into the shrubs. Already tired from beginning a late trip back home, I shook my head in disbelief, thinking, “There’s no way that’s what it looked like. An alligator?”

Nothing else I’ve seen runs like a gator. This was a large reptile and much farther north than I would’ve expected to find. It was large enough to maim or kill a human.

When I got home, I discovered through research that alligators are moving farther north and some had been reported near where I spotted this one. Sadly, I didn’t have an opportunity to get a photo while we passed, but I certainly didn’t want to go back for any sort of closeup.

Stay safe this 4th of July weekend, folks!

More to come …

Mooned at Virginia Beach!

On one of those mornings when my wife and I sat on the hotel balcony drinking coffee before the sunrise, we could see people searching for seashells along the shoreline with the lights of their phones. The sun had yet to peak over the horizon.

As waves crashed in, three girls screamed and ran from the water and then laughed. They continued this process for about fifteen minutes. At the Boardwalk, about thirty yards from our hotel, stood one of those shower poles under a bright street light where people can wash the sand off their feet and body after leaving the beach.

These three girls staggered to the pole, laughing and carrying on. Two of them washed off their feet, but the third one was washing off her upper thighs and seemed agitated, like perhaps she had gotten sand stuck in the most uncomfortable places. She kept adjusting her swim trunks and washing. The other two girls laughed at her.

The next thing we knew, she peeled off her trunks and flung them in the air. We were stunned. Granted, not many people were on the beach but how many unsuspecting people like us were seated on balconies in full view of her? Who knows?

She turned her butt toward the shower and twerked while one of her friends washed off sand. Approaching on the sidewalk were two young men, college aged, I assume. Their stride abruptly paused while these three drunk girls carried on under the shower. Their mouths gaped and yet, they weren’t able to look away.

One said, “Ya’ll know you can’t be like that in public, right?”

The girl’s friend became hostile, cussing and yelling at them and told him that she could do whatever they wanted; adding that he shouldn’t be staring at her friend. She held a fiery attitude, and from her accent, I’d guess she was Cuban. She was stern and loud enough to keep them away.

Both guys laughed nervously, shook their heads, and continued down the Boardwalk.

The last thing my wife and I expected to see while waiting for the sunrise was seeing a full moon!

Some crazy folks out there.

Be safe!

More to come …