I would like to say a few words about home health care:
For the uninitiated - and you have no idea how lucky you are - "home health care" is a euphemism for "you'll probably get some sort of secondary infection if you stay here in the hospital, so we are sending you home with a lot of scary-looking equipment and a bare minimum of really confusing instructions, and good luck".
To be fair, for the first few days we have had visits and instruction from various nurse-types with an almost comprehensible command of the English language, and - to be fair - they have been (mostly) quite wonderful. The quality of the care is not the issue. The issue is that home health care works on the assumption that basic nursing skills - and when I say basic, I mean the administration of things like IV antibiotics and feedings, and the care of abdominal drainage tubes - can be taught to any given person in three short sessions.
The given - and terrified - person being me.
Now, I admit that the basic skills required are not rocket science (I almost said "brain surgery" but that's too close to the truth), and if I were in a Nursing 101 class at a local college, I would be a star pupil. However, my classroom here is life and the guinea pig is my son, so it's a bit harder on the nerves. I have my daughter taking notes and my son giving me verbal walk-throughs, and I wonder how other people fare under these conditions.
I also wonder, if I can do this stuff with such a short period of training, how come I'm not a nurse?
In other news, the Mr. Peanut Convention has converged on our hotel. I am not making this up. Suddenly, the place is CRAWLING with Mr. Peanut signs, memorabilia, and geezers wearing Mr. Peanut hats. More disturbing is the fact that apparently these gentlemen have left their wives at home (watching the grandchildren, probably) and I have been on the receiving end of their overtures on more than one occasion. I confess that this is the first time since my hair turned grey that I have been tempted to dye it.
Tonight's the big opening gala. I'm not leaving the room without a sweatshirt.