Out of the frying pan, into the fire, back to the pan. Arrgggggg!

Jen’s back in the Medical ICU at Froedtert.  She’s got very low blood pressure, severe swelling of the legs, and difficulty breathing from fluid in the lungs. 

Jen went in for labs on Monday.  They wheeled her past my chair out in the waiting lobby and urgently told me to follow.  Once in the cancer center, they explained that Jen was light headed and dizzy and had extremely low blood pressure.  They determined that the pooling of fluid in her legs, feet, and lungs had reduced her blood fluid volume dangerous levels.  She was an ICU candidate right then and there. BUT ICU policy won’t accept patients from anywhere but the ER.  Super.  So she was wheeled into the ER for a 4 hour stay.

In the ER we discussed the symptoms with the ER team.  Their response? “At some point you have to decide how hard you want to treat this.”  There’s a hopeful statement for you.  I bit my tongue rather than verbally tear the Dr apart for that.   Finally, after convincing them that we actually do want treatment, and that she was an “ICU case”, Jen was transferred to the Medical ICU.

Once there the ICU doctors took over.  They determined that she should be treated as an infection case first before they try to get Jen’s body to release all her fluid.

It’s now Tuesday Evening, and Jen’s out of the immediate danger zone.  After getting antibiotics for 14 hours her blood pressure is in the lower range of comfortable.  She still requires quite a bit of oxygen.  Her legs are still VERY swollen.  Her lungs are still filling with fluid.  But she’s no longer a candidate for the ICU.  She’ll be transferred to the regular oncology floor sometime this evening.  When do we go home?  I don’t know.  What I do know is that Jen wants me to be here with her, and I intend to be.

Listening to the lung, heart, ER, or ICU doctors you’ll get various statements including:

“At some point you have to decide how much treatment is enough”

“Her lungs and her heart are not as efficient anymore.   She could get worse at any moment”

“The time left is precious, I don’t want to advise anyone NOT to bring the family in and miss what might be last moments. You can’t get those back.”

“She might not go home”

Listening to the Oncology department you’ll hear:

“We just need to treat the secondary symptoms and let the Chemo do its job”

“There’s a very good chance the chemo can affect this”

“These things are treatable, we can treat this”

“I’m hopeful that she can go home in a few days”

I keep telling myself that I won’t judge things hour by hour anymore. Sitting here in the room and watching the heart and lung monitors doesn’t accomplish anything.  Doing that just throws you up and down.  We have to take it day by day and week by week.  The problem is that when you taking the longer view, you can’t help but notice that the trend turns downward.

I’m mentally tired, and fried emotionally. With everything that’s happened and the continual "it’s serious/it’s not serious" events and discussions, I can no longer determine what’s serious or not.  Do I let everybody know or not.  Do I say it’s serious or not?  Is a particular fact important/telling/indicative or not? I can no longer make these decisions easily.