Blood Clot Ultrasound and Diabetic Meds

Warning: It's a Long One!

Today was the day of the ultrasound to see if granddaddy (gd#1) had a blood clot in his left leg.
He had been complaining of pain in his left calf (the upper part). It was red, swollen and hot to the touch according to the physician's assistant who checked him on Thursday evening. I was called later on Thursday evening by a nurse who related these events to me. She said that there would be an ultrasound (doppler) study set up. The study was set up for Tuesday. I really would have thought it would have been done sooner since I thought blood clots were serious things. I went to the nursing home and followed him in the nh van to the hospital where the study was to take place. We were eventually led down to the the radiology department where the study would happen. The whole time we were in the waiting room, he wanted his back scratched (continuously!) and spoke to anybody, whether they were walking by or sitting around him. This in itself wasn't all that bad. It just shows a subtle change in his personality (from the alzheimers). He has always been a good natured, easy-going type of person but not at all outspoken.

The nurse finally came to collect us for the ultrasound. It didn't take long. It was kind of interesting watching the black and white on the screen mix with the blue and red colors (blood). She had another nurse come by and double check her results before we were done. The original nurse told me that she couldn't tell me directly what the results were but she could tell me that if she had found anything, gd#1 would be staying at the hospital (if not, we would be leaving). I was very grateful that she had the compassion to let me *know* and not let me wonder for days. Since we were on our way back to the front of the hospital to be picked up by the nh van, I felt I had my answer. (Side Note: This study took place on a Tuesday. I was told about the negative results on the following Thursday.)

As we waited for the nh van, gd#1 asked me who was picking him up. I told him "C" (who is from the nh of course). He would wait about 2 minutes and ask me if "E" (my husband) was picking him up and when he was getting there. I told him that E was at work and it was C who was coming to pick him up. Over and over again, he asked this same question. He did, in between the same questions, ask me to scratch his back. He also asked me if I would scratch his ear. I scratched the outside of his ear. He says, nooooooo, the inside. I told gd#1 that I loved him and that there were only 2 things in this world I wouldn't do for him. The first being that I won't wipe his butt and the second being scratching the inside of his ear. No way, no shape, no form, no how! Being the granddaughter with the easily upset stomach, this was something that just wasn't going to happen. I told him that he (nor I!) couldn't put anything in his ear bigger than his own elbow. I can't 'scratch' anybody's ear, much less one that has that much hair in it!

In the same telephone conversation where she tells me the date and time of the ultrasound, the nurse informs me that they are changing his meds again. They at the nursing home seem to think that his sugar won't come down on it's own so they put him on Avandia. The first thing that was interesting about this was that the nurse told me that Avandia was for alzheimers. A wee little check via the internet tells me that Avandia is not for alzheimers but for diabetes. The second thing that he had an episode about 2 yrs ago where he was taking glucophage. It was a very light dosage. He had picked up a stomach virus from somewhere (where do stomach viruses ever come from?). Grandmama (gm#1) was told to give him the rest of his meds but not the glucophage. Between the two of them (gd#1 and gm#1), they got it backward and he was taking his glucophage but not his regular meds (blood pressure, heart and stomach meds). Oh yeah, it was a nightmare. Gm#1 calls me about 11:00 one night to tell me that something was wrong with gd#1. Being gm#1, she had to make small talk first (which was my first clue that something was wrong). She asked me how I was doing!

She finally gets around to telling me that something is wrong and I need to come up there. My husband, E, and I go up there and find him in the bed. The only description I can give is that he seems to be having a cross between a seizure and a stroke. I told the 911 operator this and she sent the EMS out without hesitation. Before I go any further, I have to say that on the *several* occasions that we have had to have the EMS out to my grandparents' house, they have been extremely professional and absolutely polite and compassion without a doubt. Anyway, EMS quickly figured out with a stick test, that gd#1's sugar was sitting at about 40. Now, I say that it was 40 but it could have been higher or lower because it was a stressful time for me and I'm trying to remember as best I can. They asked him all sorts of questions (like you would for a stroke victim) such as what day it was, who he was married to, etc. The one question I knew that would tell with absolute certainty was this, "who is the president"? Gd#1 always talked about the president just couldn't do his job right. This was a serious matter to him that he had to watch FOX news (constantly) to keep up with what the president had done this time. Gd#1 said he didn't know what the president's name was but he "sure didn't vote for him". That told them that he was more oriented in time than he seemed.

The EMS suggested we feed him something to bring up his sugar since they had given him a shot (of what, I can't remember) to bring it up temporarily. After eating, they offered him the option of going to the hospital. He said he would like to just as a precaution. I took gm#1 with me in the van while gd#1 rode in the ambulance.

They took us straight in and checked gd#1's vitals. He was looking better. The nurses left and would come back in a bit with some food. Well, they didn't come back for a long time. Gd#1 started looking bad again and pretty soon was going back to the way he was when I found him at home. I called for the nurse. A male nurse came in with a large syringe (that looked like it held at least a 1 1/2 cups of fluid!) and gave it to him after checking his sugar. His sugar had bottomed out again in the teens. The nurse explained that right after we got there, there had been 2 gunshot wound cases that came in and they were extremely critical cases. I really did understand but I didn't want to see my gd#1 going into some kind of shock and dying either.

At times, I would go outside, sit (smoke) and call to update my family on what was going on. One time while I was out there, a lady came to sit beside me on the bench. She looked toward me and started to cry. Being that I couldn't stand to see people cry, I asked if there was anything I could do. She sat there, with tears streaming down her face and told me about her son. He was one of the gunshot wound cases. He was 19 years old and about to die. He had somehow managed to shoot himself in the chest. (He was trying to shoot himself in the heart.) The boy had been rejected by a girl that he thought himself in love with. He thought he couldn't live without her. This woman, the mother, kept holding herself, saying, "my son, my son" over and over again.

After this, I went back to the room where gd#1 was. Gm#1 had been in there with him and she was looking a little pale. Remember the stomach virus from hell? Gm#1 says that she needs a trash can. She threw up some and then was wobbly from weakness. Gm#1 already has a bad back (that'll be another story for another time) and I didn't want her to fall or to fall off the little chair she went back to sitting in. I called the nurse again and they agreed that she needed to be on a stretcher. Gm#1 didn't like this but I (and the nurses) threatened to have her admitted to the hospital if she didn't lay down on it.

So I am sitting between two stretchers, one with each grandparent on it. Gd#1 is mumbling that he 'knew this was going to happen'. It took me a while to figure out that he thought he had had a stroke and was dying. I assured him that he was not dying but we were trying to get his sugar to level out. Gm#1 was complaining that she didn't need to be on a stretcher. I assured her that if she got down, she would be an unwilling patient of the hospital. By 2am, I had had enough and needed to 'delegate' some of the responsibility. I called my mother who said she wasn't able (note: this is sarcasm!) to come down to the hospital yet. She had been up late, putting away a case (or more) of beer. This was/is a recurring theme and I was/am very familiar with it. My nerves were well on their way to being rubbed raw so I told her to get herself together, drink a soda with caffeine in it and get down there. Mom showed up at 4am and took gm#1 straight home. Gm#1 was still complaining about not needing the attention. When they got gd#1 into a room and settled down, I left. It was 5:30am. I think I was a little tired.

Gd#1 only stayed in the hospital for a few days that time (maybe 2 - 3?). It took that long to get his sugar leveled, and his heart and blood pressure back to where they needed to be. Gm#1 was over the virus in about 24 hrs. I was back on stand-by for any grandparent emergencies.

C