The other side of the scrubs.

Sitting in the chairs of a hospital room is weird for me. I never sit *in* the room, but usually outside of it as I chart on my patient. This time, my patient really is MY patient - Kyle's laying in the bed I'm sitting beside.

I feel guilty having blown off his flu symptoms as him just being a "whiny sick man". We all know men are big babies when they're sick and in all honesty in our almost 6 years together he has never been truly sick beyond some sniffles and the occasional cough. He had all that plus a 102 fever Wednesday and I knew it would just have to take it's course. 

I left for Minnesota Friday after he had been down and out on the couch for a few days. I was sure by the time I got home Sunday he would be back to himself. Saturday he had my sister bring him to the ER and he got fluids and sent home but that night and into Sunday got rough when he actually began hallucinating and knew he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. I hadn't gotten home yet and luckily my sister lives fairly close so she was able to check on him and determined he wasn't joking and back to the hospital he went. Diagnosis - severe pneumonia, dehydration, and rhabdomyolysis. The man bought himself a few days stay for triple antibiotics and a whole lot of fluid.

I don't like that I'm not supposed to silence beeping IV pumps and I don't like that I can't see the heart and oxygen monitors in the room so that I know what's going on. It's weird to sit in the chair and ask the questions and not be the one answering. 

He should be home again in a day or two and I'll be here with him til then, but it certainly makes me know the struggle my patients parents go through a bit better now that I'm on the other side.