UCLA Medical Center, 7th Floor, 12 pm -- No seizures overnight or this morning. Cheryl's roommate has been discharged. I was lucky enough to run into them in the parking lot on my way in. We are happy they have finally been released (she had expected to leave yesterday, but had to wait an extra day to get some levels correct), but we will miss them. There must be something in the water in the midwest. They were the most upbeat, cohesive little family unit you could imagine, and they offered a lot of help to Cheryl when I wasn't around. Even though we were only about half a generation off from them, there was something nice about having parental figures in the room, especially ones so genuinely cheerful. Kansas City will be a better place when they return.
I'm off to find the Corner Bakery Cafe, a restaraunt that our friend Dave, the UCLA grad and expert, discovered for us when they delivered great food for Cheryl yesterday. Oddly, their menus show a website but not a street address.
UCLA Medical Center, 7th Floor, 2 pm -- Thanks to the miracle of cell phones, I was able to locate the sandwich shop without checking a phone book (good luck finding one these days) or asking anyone where it was, which would have been far more sensible.
We have a new roommate, an octagenarian woman who is friendly enough, but has very particular ideas about her care. We felt for the woman's nurses and daughter as she tried to instruct the nurse that her doctor, whom she had been seeing for year, told her that she was to take a particular kind of medicine, and that she really wasn't interested in what the doctors here had to say, and would she please go get her medicine? Oh, and she's ready to go home now, thank you. "No, Mom, the doctors will tell you when it's time to go home." "But why? I'm ready to go now."
No seizures yet today, although Cheryl has felt "off" at various times, has battled a headache, and has continue to feel significant tingling in her hands. Her nurse today has taken Cheryl on a couple of brisk walks that leave her feeling a little giddy from the sudden rush of activity after days on the hospital bed. The doctor has also informed us that Cheryl will be allowed one hour of sleep between now and tomorrow at 9 pm. Cheryl just laughs at them, knowing that nothing will keep her from her appointed rounds of shuteye.
UCLA Medical Center, 7th Floor, 7:30 pm -- The remainder of the afternoon passed with visits from a lot of our friends. It is always good to see friendly faces, especially since Cheryl isn't really recovering from anything, so except for the Medusa-like tangle of electrode wires on her head, visits are easy to take.
Cheryl's nurse has given her compression (anti-embolysm) socks to try to help eleminate the tingling in her hands by improving blood flow. No seizures yet, although Cheryl has felt significantly off at times. We agreed that she would give me a call whenever she has one.
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