The good news is, the pop's heart is doing better. The aortic balloon pump was removed without much ado, and his heart has been beating miraculously well its own, indicating it may indeed have fully recovered from the attack, as the pulmonologist had declared. However, he is still on the respirator and heavily sedated due to the respiratory distress syndrome which had me so freaked out last Sunday. Reading about it online is a terrifying experience when you have someone near affected by it, what with a 50-60% mortality rate, possible infection leading to septicemia, possible spreading to other organs and causing organ failure etc. So when the first news came that water was building up in his extremities because his kidney's weren't working sufficiently, we were beyond worried. And when it that situation came the announcement that he would be given a blood transfusion because his platelet count was low and he was running a fever, sign of an infection, the thought of a blood transfusion didn't cause nearly as much panic as you'd think, but was instead welcomed as a possible source of strength and healing. Which it kind of turned out to be - the fever went down as a result, as did the swelling, somewhat. The kidneys, however, are still not working that well, and the toxic load in his blood is in turn affecting the lungs that need to heal so badly, so tomorrow, apparently, they have him scheduled for dialysis. Another intervention that would seem massive in any other situation, whereas here it is just another pocedure that's necessary on the way back to health and that'll hopefully give him a good boost.
He has lost a lot of weight, and he wasn't heavy to begin with, so I'm a little scared of what I'll find when I see him tonight. I haven't been down all week as I've been sick myself, nothing serious, but I'm on antibiotics and feeling dazed, achy and exhausted. This whole experience has been hard on everyone, and the longer it goes on the more daunting the long-term prospects seem. At first, this seemed a very scary but finite interlude, and we expected a reasonably swift return to normality. We wanted him off the respirator and back home recovering as soon as possible. We thought there would be some minor changes in his diet (he's already eating pretty well, and exercising) and a regime of medications for him to follow, but really, we expected that life would continue more or less the way it had been going. How naive we were. It was Ritesh's mom who pointed out the other night that our lives have changed completely. And she didn't just mean the short term, hopefully temporary changes, the fact that Ritesh has pretty much moved in with her to be close to the hospital, that he has been to work no more than a couple of days in the last two weeks, the fact that everyone's schedule pretty much revolves around trips to the hospital etc. I'm fairly sure the long-term changes are dawning on her as they are on all of us, the fact that even if he makes it through this, it may take a long time, and it may take even longer for him to recover fully. He will need a lot of taking care of, and this, along with a lot of the management of family affairs will land on her shoulders, and ours.
It doesn't help to think about this yet, as all our resources are required in the present. I for one need to find a better way to manage my energies, as I'm getting to my limits and am feeling spent and depleted. It doesn't help that the stress at work is insane. The boss has finally admitted that I am completely overburdened and allowed me to delegate part of a project to someone else - about 5% of my workload this week, but better than nothing. And I did get a decent night's sleep last night, for once, which must be a good sign. But I still feel I'm running on empty, and really need to find more ways to recharge my batteries.
Sometimes, just being present to something beautiful can help - like this sky, taken the other night, on my drive from work to UCLA to pick up Ritesh:
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