if language could include... anyway, Erin's still in hospital, where no one should be. the hospital experience... kinda love nurses, kinda hate doctors. well, I'll try to be narrative here. nasty disease situations are abroad at this time, Rhode Island closed their schools today because of flu, pneumonia, meningitus confluing (from confluence, right?). so Erin just managed to collect the going term of dismay. and the doctors apparently aren't quite sure what they're up against, proceeding in the throw it in the moat and see if anyone salutes mode of scientific inquiry. Erin's fever finally diminished to near normalcy friday morn, then a shift in antibiotics (for fear of its the damaging effects of one of the antibiotics). then the doctor (that is to say a doctor) thunk Erin should have fluid removed from his lungs. they do during ultra sound. Erin was not allowed to eat or drink, I think for fear he'd vomit inconveniently during the procedure. for some reason, he wasn't on iv. upshot: 6 hours without fluids, and his fever spiked. the procedure consisted in a needle in his back, but only for a sample. we got differing explanations. someone said they may drain the fluid but the doctor doing the procedure said they never do that. which is part of the hospital experience, along with the golden one: hurry up and wait. okay, I'm trying to stay with upshot. the hierarchy of hospitals is so malevolent. doctors are untouchable. their contact with the patient is brief. you realize that their work is a performance. each has a style by which they communicate to you as patient or concerned person. job one for doctor is ascertaining needs and invoking cures. secondary is the matter of explaining, whether it's harrumph harrumph impressive med school or look you in the eye. nurses do a great deal of sensitive stuff, making judgment calls concerning the patient's needs and care. they also empty bedpans. it's a weirdly large spectrum. Erin finally had the procedure, which freed him to eat and drink. his appetite is back, which is a pissa sign. the procedure was investigative. it would reveal whether or not the congestion in Erin's lungs was pustular, which, if it were, would require surgery. Beth had asked to speak with a doctor at noon, and by 8 still had heard nothing. requests had been made to get a doctor to tell us what up. another upshot: an on call doctor claimed to have checked Erin out while Erin was being transported from the procedure. Beth was with Erin the entire time. that doctor lied. all we wanted was information. after a procedure, an explorative one, answers are expected. Erin's temperature has been above 100, much of the time several degrees above, for a week. we want to know what's going on. okay, I've gone into blah blah mode. Beth's sleeping at the hospital tonight. I stay with the dog and cat. Beth just called, this minute, to say Erin's temperature was now 98.6. I could only cry. Erin's been a wonderful patient, enduring. all this hierarchal bull crap interfering in our lives. the Olympian doctors bespeak their truths, yatta yatta. yesterday (I think) Erin had a student nurse. this guy will be a great nurse. he was exquisitely sensitive. he was Portuguese, a little hard for me to understand. I mean, I had to have him repeat what he said at times. he was in oh I see mode as far as procedures but worked with what I have to call a tenderness. the doctors have a barrier against the emotional concerned people, whereas the nurses don't. the doctors don't give shit about the financial burden of illness. cripes this isn't music, I admit it. whingeing, sure. but, hello, you bring your child, or anyone, to a hospital, you are concerned. I understand an emotional distance allows doctors to do their job, but they have to have a sense of the patient and the people around the patient, what they fear, what they need. the lying doctor amazed me. the nurse who accompanied Beth up from the procedure (I was doing a yeoman job calling in a meal for Erin, who proved a right trencherman, as closing time for the kitchen neared) must've brought the issue to her superiour, because when a respiratory doctor arrived to speak with us, she was joined by head of nurses. this doctor answered all our questions, which is all we wanted. when Erin broke his femur, the surgeon who did the procedure (who I think is now head of pediatric surgery at Children's) was readily available. kinda scary, actually, because we saw him at all hours. so I hope Erin and Beth have slept well. dog and cat here gave me an extra hour before intimating their own needs. I should wonder about the nature of what I've just written here, but thats a study for anon. the record, that is, will have to stand as is.