As I’ve documented, MLB’s post surgical home care has gone relatively smoothly. I’ll admit to being on shaky ground, at least at the outset, with the wound dressing part. I observed the dressing tending procedure several times at the hospital, and was reasonably confident I could handle it. The major challenge turned out to be in acquiring the supplies necessary to perform this task.

At the hospital, I asked where one acquired the gauze sponges for packing the wound; they told me any medical supply store would have them. They also intimated that we would be sent home with a supply of everything we’d need. Our ideas of supply immediately diverged when we arrived home with enough gauze sponges(for packing the wound) to last about a day and a half. We had a decent supply of saline, swabs, and tape; one of the prescriptions was for 1000 ml of normal saline.

No worries, we have an in-home health care nurse coming. She’ll have supplies, and we’re good. But we weren’t. Had we been on Medicare/Medicaid, supplies would have been provided. We aren’t; we are covered through my job via an excellent insurance plan. For home care such as this, however, our plan requires us to supply our own gauze sponges, tape, swabs, annd normal saline. No problem; any medical supply store has this stuff. Not seeing such a store on the corner by the Home Depot, I concluded that medical supply store was hospital talk for drugstore.

What a fool I was. Gauze sponges are not in the least similar to gauze pads. I went to the grocery store pharmacies, I went to the Target pharmacy, I went to 2 CVS stores. No soap. Finally, someone at the second CVS actually demonstrated that she gave a damn, and directed me to a Rexall in Vienna VA, who turned out to have gauze sponges suitable for packing a wound. I bought one box of 50, came home, and keyed the Medline SKU from our last remaining hospital-supplied sponge into the internet. A direct hit; I ordered 200 of them, from a place that didn’t demand a minimum order of a case of 2000. At $6.99 for 50. OK, we’re now good.

And so we were. Until the normal saline ran low. Again, no sweat. Normal saline should be available over the counter; it’s salt water, for heaven’s sake. So another trip, to Target, to CVS, the grocery stores, even the grocery pharmacy from which I’d procured the first bottle. Again, no soap. Not in stock. Anyplace. CVS had spray bottles of saline, doctored up with glycol and other crap. They also had an aerosol can of saline. I explained I was irrigating, packing, and bandaging an open wound, not trying to blow out radiator coils.

The severely underqualified helper where I bought the first bottle said “I’d need the prescription.” I asked if my having the prescription on me would magically make it appear. She didn’t understand the question, and presumably went to the section of the store where her talents were more suited to the task; something like spritzing off the heads of lettuce in the produce department.

I came back home, thoroughly steamed. I went online, to the grocery pharmacy, keyed in our prescription number, and was informed that I couldn’t refill the saline ‘scrip for two weeks. It had a 30 days between refills clause. For salt water? I then called the grocery pharmacy, thinking I’d talk to the pharmacy manager, or at least a human, and explain my situation. After pressing 1 for instructions in English, I was presented with several options, one of which was to renew the prescription by phone. I chose that one, followed the bouncing ball, and the robot voice said the saline would be ready for pickup after 11AM the next day.

Being somewhat doubtful, I asked MLB to call them the next day, just to verify the ‘scrip was really ready for pickup. And it was. All’s well that ends well.

The point of this disjointed and rambling rant is to note that we don’t live in a remote area, where supplies must be airlifted into the outback. I wondered what we’d do if we lived in a small town in Northwest Kansas. The answer is clear; we’d have gone to the locally-owned, mom and pop drugstore, go up to the pharmacy counter adorned with an ornamental mortar and pestle, and explain our situation to the pharmacist, with whom we were on a first-name basis. In turn, the pharmacist would make note of precisely what was needed. Whatever he didn’t have readily available would have been promptly obtained, perhaps directly from the hospital’s or clinic’s supply. Kind of Old Man Gower-like service. When we went back to pick up our supplies, provided he didn’t have them delivered, we may well have seen our hometown pharmacist behind the soda fountain, dipping up ice cream. What I wouldn’t give for service like that again.

-k-

I’ve written a fair amount about MLB’s post-hospital care, and how I’m trying to keep the home fires burning, caring for her, going to work, and doing mundane but necessary household tasks. I mention this, not to pump up my own contributions, but to document how tiring the whole domestic process is. Laundry. Meals. Shopping. Bandage changing. Bill paying. Day job. The list goes on and on.

When I think I can’t do any more, it’s time to feed the cat. He knows something’s not 100%, and so I wind up ministering to him as well.

I’m not complaining, nor feeling sorry for myself. Others have things much worse than I. I can’t imagine the effort required if MLB were totally bedridden, if I had to feed her, etc., etc. Or if she couldn’t be left alone for any amount of time. I’m also thankful that our current situation doesn’t require those tasks.

It still makes me think What if?. What if our circumstances were drastically different? Here’s what I’d like then; I’m sure there are others who are in that situation, and who think along similar lines:

• Call the caregiver. Ask how things are going; how they’re doing. Just talk to them.
• Offer. We had meatloaf tonight; I’m bringing some to you, with scalloped potatoes, on throw-away serving dishes., is music to a caregiver’s ears; Chinese carryout and DiGornio Pizza for One only go so far.
• Offer. I’m going to the grocery/pharmacy. Anything you need? Believe it or not, little trips add up; forgetting something at either venue results in another trip.
• Offer. I’ll come by and sit with your loved one for a couple hours, so you can have some time to yourself. This isn’t a selfish thing; caregivers need a break, too.

We aren’t close to the caregiving for the caregiver thoughts I just documented. If you know someone who is in that boat, for heaven’s sake, pick up the phone and call them. For them. For the care recipient. For yourself.

I can only fervently hope I’ll be a of such a mind when MLB is back to full song. I’ll be of such a mind, I’m hoping the follow through will be there in my actions.

-k-