Moving Day

Today was moving day for Kelly. She finally left the ICU late this afternoon and settled in to a private room in another section of the hospital. I think she had mixed emotions about leaving the security afforded by the constant attention Intensive Care patients receive.

The Surgical ICU is a busy place. The lighting is bright, everything is white and the place is cluttered with equipment. It is noisy and stuffed full with assigned staff plus all the other personnel who drop in and out. The physicians make rounds with their students, the IV team is always visiting somebody, the physical therapists come to inflict pain as they get patients moving again. Phones ring, machines beep, staff discuss treatment options. It is a wonder anyone gets enough rest to heal. And if you do doze off someone is sure to come by to poke or prod you. Even without staff in your cubicle you have to contend with the automatic blood pressure cuff squeezing your arm until you wake up. This level of activity must be what a bee hive is like.

The seventh floor of the Connors Women and Newborn Unit, a part of Brigham and Womens Hospital, is entirely the opposite. First of all, this part of the hospital is much newer. It is streamlined, modern and serene. The colors are restful, the lighting subdued. These private patient rooms resemble hotel rooms with private baths, mini refrigerators, and flat screen TVs. Even the business part of the room, the oxygen and suction hook ups, are behind a sliding panel to disguise them when they are not needed. The nurses do their jobs discreetly; competent but not in your face. The halls are carpeted and there is interesting artwork on the walls.

Kelly can't see the door from her bed as the room is L shaped. Every little noise causes her to wonder if someone is there for her or if it is just a passerby. She will surely be able to get a good nights rest tonight. She left most of the monitors behind in ICU. The frequency of monitoring her vitals has decreased significantly. The patient controlled pain pump is gone, replaced by pills taken every 4 hours. Soon the catheter will be gone and, with any luck, maybe they will take away the compression wraps on her legs (or maybe not). There is still a long road ahead, but this is definitely progress.

The physical therapist got Kelly on her feet today. She shuffled her way through ICU for a short, exhausting first attempt at walking. Kelly will need to get out of bed and walk at least 3 times a day with the promise that it will be easier each time she does it. But today, for the first attempt, it wasn't easy. I saw fear in Kelly's face when she started. I saw satisfaction when she finished. When you have had major surgery on two parts of your body at once you must take pleasure in the small victories. Shuffling to the nurses station, eating solid food, surviving another IV stick. Got to keep on moving.

Tomorrow will be a better day.