Today was pretty much like yesterday, with poor Alex drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling confused and in pain whenever he woke up. It's so incredibly hard to watch. Dr. Hannon believes in "tough love" in this situation; we have to put him through this discomfort in order to wake him up and get the healing process started. I hate this so much, I can't even tell you.
The good news is, they took the tube out of his chest that was used to drain the pleural effusion, so he's more comfortable. They also took out the "PIC" line that was in his arm. It's kind of like an IV on steroids; they insert a tube in his arm and run it through the vein and into the chest.
The bad news is the *reason* they took out the PIC line: When they removed the IV line from his chest to move it to a spot under his clavicle, they took the tip and tested it for bacteria. It came up positive, so he has an infection. They don't need the PIC line now that we're reducing the number of IV meds he's on, so they took that out, assuming that it may also be infected.
So Alex is running a fever again, and they've changed his antibiotics again. Oh, and the old antibiotic seems to have given him hives all over his torso, inner arms, and legs. How fun is that? This poor man has been on antibiotics for a month, plus an antifungal for the yeast that spilled into his body cavity. He can't have much intestinal floral left at this point.
The hospital is not a place to go to get well, really; the cures are always at least as bad as the disease. I know all these things are saving his life, but they're certainly not good for his overall health! I'm grateful he didn't die, but it's hard to watch him struggle with problem after problem as a result of the wonders of modern medicine. It just seems like such a paradox, kind of like "tough love."
Wouldn't it be sweet if Alex were cogent in time for our wedding anniversary on Monday? It's a nice dream, anyway...