thomas update – sunday

Well, somehow Eddie had a conversation with Thomas last night and convinced him that he needed to come on today and admit himself into the hospital, that he’d made a mistake by not doing that on Monday when he should have. So Eddie drove up from Cumberland County and brought him to the ER and UK, and I met them there. We explained that the transplant team had wanted him admitted on Monday morning, but that Thomas was scared or upset, or both, or something and signed the AMA and went home – and then Eddie calling last night, etc, etc, and boom, there we were.

Eddie couldn’t stay for personal, family reasons, but that was fine. He got Thomas up here, and that’s what counts the most, I think.

And the doctor intern came in and talked to us, then the ER doctor-doctor (who was the same doctor who took care of me in January and who asked me how I was doing now LOLOL), then one of the transplant team came down. Then another of the transplant team, the one on call, came down – and it was the doctor who’d wanted to admit him Monday morning – Dr Hundley – so that was good. While all this was going on and going back and forth, they drew copious tubes of blood, took Thomas’ vitals (and gave them back), had him pee in a cup, you know all the usual stuff. I wasn’t there when they got his blood pressure or his weight, so I can’t record that, yet.

Thomas said he was hungry, so they ordered him something to eat.

And while we were waiting for that to come, the ER doctor came back in and said that Thomas’ creatinine level had almost doubled since Monday morning – Monday morning it was 4.8.

And by then it was time for me to walk out – the ER is a maze and massive – and go to the restroom, and walk back around to the lobby – the new UK Hospital is a maze and massive – and down the long corridor and up the street to the bus stop. I had to get on the 8:06 bus so I could get home; Lextran stops running on Sundays at 9pm. No choice but leave unless I’d wanted to spend the night in the hospital, which I don’t want and wasn’t prepared for.

I hadn’t even gotten halfway down the long corridor when my phone went off with Thomas’ ringtone. I thought maybe I’d left something or he needed something real quick before I got gone. No, he said, “Mom, you should have stayed five more minutes.” I said, “Why? Is something wrong?” He said, “Yes. I’ve lost my transplant. I don’t understand real well what the doctor said, but I lost it.” Well, in this part of the hospital, there are benches built into the walls, and thank the gods, but I was right around the corner from the chapel, which was empty, and I went in and sat down. He said, “They said there’s no chance in saving it this time, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.” I said, “Thomas, yes you do. This means you’re going to have to go on dialysis for the rest of your life. You can live without kidneys, but you’ll have to go to dialysis.” He said, “I don’t know what that means.” So I explained it to him and told him to ask his medical team; they could explain it more. He said, “Well, that’s a bunch of bullshit.” And all I could think was, You knew this was coming. You’ve known that this was what was going to happen if you didn’t take care of yourself, and now it’s too late to do anything about it.

I asked him, I said, “Thomas, do you need me to run back to the desk and tell them you’d like to speak to a counselor or the chaplain or something?” He said, “No, I’m okay right now.” But we were both crying and totally not okay. I asked if he was sure. He said, “Mom, just let me handle this right now. We’ll figure the rest out in the morning.” I said, “I’ll leave my phone on all night, so you call if you need me.” I told him I couldn’t rush down there before 6am (that’s the first bus inbound), but if nothing else, like Kathy said when I called her later, we can sit on the opposite end of the phone and listen to each other breathe for company if it comes to that.

So that’s where it is right now. We’ve called just a very few people. Because there’s no news, really, to give anybody. I’ll know more in the morning after I get there and see his medical team and stuff. Jane is coming up from Liberty at lunch tomorrow. Right now, Thomas is talking to people and friends and family on the phone, which is good, and I’m glad of that (he’s been making and taking calls; so that’s good).

I’m going to spend as much times as I can at the hospital tomorrow. I’m broke as a church mouse, but I’m taking a pocketful of change and some snacks out of the pantry. I’ll be able to be reached by text on my phone – but it’s not a smartphone, so I can’t surf and stuff like that. I can’t respond to facebook or to twitter – although I can send out tweets to Twitter, I can’t answer them. My phone makes and takes calls and makes and takes texts and takes and makes and sends pictures and videos, but that’s all it’s capable of. No internet. No apps. No nothing like that. But I know I’ll be sending tweets just like I have every other time he’s been in the hospital – I just won’t be able to respond to them until I get home tomorrow night, or whenever.

I’ll post/tweet when I can, as I can.

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Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.