Skyrockets In Flight

Entry 1.    1:36 p.m.

The GI docs don't think Jenny needs to have her lower GI scoped, her oncologist is in disagreement. He visited her this morning and he told her he wanted her to stay. Her blood numbers are much improved, her BP however, 88/43.  He agrees since she is back tomorrow, she can go home. So, she is being discharged. She passed a lot of blood in the night, but the GI docs seem unconcerned, so.  .  . I will pick her up sometime this afternoon.

Also, I am taking tomorrow off to take her to the doctor.

Entry 2     9:21 p.m.

As the blood thins, the plot thickens. Jenny is still in hospital. I have been fielding texts and calls all day, as I sit and worry and pace and worry more. The texts and calls from Jenny tell me she is coming home, she isn't coming home, she might be coming home. It's her decision, the doctor will decide, it's unclear. This uncertainty went on and on. At 3:18 I check her most recent  blood draw. Jenny's hemoglobin dropped 1.1 point in the last 10 hours, from an already low 9.0 to 7.9. In the past it could take two weeks for her hemoglobin to drop 3 points, so this was concerning to me. Still, it remained up in the air until almost 7, when she finally was told she was staying. 

Tomorrow she meets with Dr. P. and I will be with her.  We will talk of her colonoscopy that he will order for this week, her blood loss, her chemo, her dehydration, her cachexia, bowel problems, vomiting, lack of energy, shortness of breath, inability to walk more than a few steps without the risk of collapsing, her falls. We won't talk about her memory loss, the strange disappearance of her pain coincident with the bleeding, the futility of chemotherapy at this point, or the cost of eggs in China.