some how, in my willingness to ship off Engineer Guy to six weeks of internship in Connecticut, I forgot an import point. One of his main contributions to the household since returning from school in San Diego has been taking over most of the routine household tasks. Those simple but annoying things. He was taking out the garbage (this is California – recycling here requires sorting), 90% of the cooking and, most importantly, cleaning the kitchen.

He caught a flight on Saturday, spent the weekend with his sister in New York, then caught a train on Monday morning. Happily back working  But not here. So there I am, washing dishes, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and taking out garbage, trash, and watering the lemon tree.

(whine, whine, whine)

Yesterday I worked on sorting out and cleaning the studio/sewing room/storage area while the Eldest did some sewing. I had been thinking about doing a bit more today, but abandoned the idea in favor of heading to the Coliseum to watch the As wipe the Mariners off the map and out of the park. Our pitcher was, frankly, not great. Theirs we’re worse. Two of the As clobbered  a pair of home runs each. End result? 10:2 with 10:8 as far as hits. And, amazingly enough, no errors on either side. For the fans listening on the radio – RF149’s apologies for the lack of drummers. Four cowbells and a woodblock just can’t carry the same level of sound.

That works in life, baseball and medical decisions. After all, one needs all the facts before considering where to go next.

The As pulled off an amazing win (thank Chapman’s home run with two on in the bottom of the ninth). Unfortunately, I left at the end of the eighth. Just too much to do on top of freezing in the windy stadium.

Backing up now to the morning – BART + the N-Judah. With the potential for being able to spring George either tomorrow or this weekend, the nurse coordinator had scheduled the mandatory teaching sessions. So there was the dietitian, the pharmacist, the infusion service (going home with a line to continue IV meds is much better than hanging out in the hospital.)

[Aside. Back in the old days – 1970s for example, it was absolutely unheard of for a patient to be receiveing IV therapy outside a hospital environment. Admittedly, we didn’t have the fancy micro-chip computer pumps that are the standard today,  – but the idea that anyone would provide care that was normally within the provenance of nursing or medical care just didn’t occur to anyone. There wasn’t much change through the 80s and into the 90s. Several outside influences came into play – law, policy, cost – and the attitudes of what could be done at home vs. hospital changed drastically especially once we entered the era of “managed care” and “utilization management.” Besides spawning an extensive industry of home health care, a significant portion of care was shifted from health care professionals to family members. What, in some ways is really surprising, this didn’t include laundry, bed linens or food, unlike much of the rest of the world. Which takes us today. People go home with draining woods, central lines, and occasionally the need for infusions around the clock. None of which are seen as requiring “skilled nursing care” if a family member can be instructed.]

Now it is a matter of waiting – to see if his blood counts are stable over night so that we can blow this popsicle stand tomorrow. Somehow the staff seems to think that hanging out over the weekend, even if I have to drive him over every day would be more than satisfactory. Me? I want George home. But the prospect of having to drive over twice a week is daunting enough. Extra trips? The thought makes me shudder.

Anyway, I still have to stop at the grocery store tonight, sort out a few things at home and otherwise get organized.

Perhaps one of the hardest things about being in the hospital is the inability to get uninterrupted sleep. Between the chemo (q4 for one, + 2 others at different times), the nurses, the docs, blood drawing, and own self maintenance there isn’t much energy left over for anything else. George is watching some TV, working on his pile of non-fiction books and catching naps between interruptions.

This particular ward is one of two dedicated to Heme/Onc and the Bone Marrow Transplant/Stem Cell Transplant service. Obviously, all rooms are solo. An organizer of protective gear hangs on the outside of each door. Until his white count drops out of sight, I can bring him outside food. The critical question asked yesterday was whether lattes from the coffee shop inside the hospital counted as “inside food” or “outside food.” The little pleasures are to be held onto as long as possible. If you want to wear the hospital gowns, no problem. If you want your own clothes – that is completely all right. Practically speaking, soft t-shirts and sweatpants are the most comfortable. One of my contributions will be frequent laundry.

I stayed for a few hours in the morning, then met Alex (my son-in-law) at the As game. Getting there was the challenge. For that matter, getting to the hospital on a holiday weekend? Instead of the normal street car, it was the N Owl (night bus). BART to the game? One train headed across the Bay from SF. One. Change at 12th Street, change at 19th Street or chance at MacArthur depending on which of the other three lines you actually wanted. Sardines all the way in any case.

It was cool, it didn’t rain. The As finished sweeping the Mariners. Last year, they were a team hard to beat. This year, they are “rebuilding.”

Back to the hospital for a couple of hours before heading over to a friends to check on the cat, do a load of laundry and attempt to catch up on my sleep.