Intensive Care Unit

When I arrived at the hospital late this morning (I was sick the first part of the day), I broke down and cried. I immediately called our good friend Katha Stuart, and asked her to get Katie out of school and bring her to the hospital. I swear, it looked like we were about to lose him. He was so out of it. He had an oxygen tube as well as a feeding tube, and he was just lying there with his dried up mouth open and his eyes open in little slits. He came to, slightly, and told me he was cold. He was VERY difficult to understand - lots of mumbling. I put every sheet, blanket, and towel on him that I could find in the room.

I talked to him, even though I wasn't certain that he was even aware of my presence...I spoke sweet nothings, small talk, memories, etc. He started mumbling: first he said he was dying, then he said that he felt like a Native American, then he said he was a Hindu something or another, and he said that he could see the Leader of the Universe and that he (Tom) was walking in a "creative circle". It sounded like he was hallucinating.

The doctor of infectious disease stopped by and was concerned about Tom's mental status. He was afraid that Tom may have an infection that has spread to his brain. Shortly after he left to consult with a couple of other doctors, he returned to tell us that they needed to move Tom to the Intensive Care Unit. They said that it would benefit him more because he would have two dedicated nurses, meaning his own personal nurses, if you will. No more pushing a button and waiting for a nurse to arrive, as is the case in most hospital rooms.

The ICU is so much more streamlined, clean, and staffed with seemingly more knowledgable people. On other floors, if you ask a nurse what's going on, she will most likely tell you that she's not sure, but that the doctor will be making his/her rounds later in the day.

The last doctor I spoke with said that he would know more information after the results from the spinal tap that poor Tom had to endure this afternoon, were available. He is testing for abnormal cells/leukemia in the spinal cord and/or brain. He also said that Tom may have meningitis of the brain. He said that Tom should never have stopped taking his chemotherapy and antiviral meds, and that he was supposed to have taken them forever. I don't recall that being the case, however Tom did get to the point where he threw his arms up in frustration and said, "to hell with it - I'm finished taking this poison every day." The doctor said that he was "amazed that Tom has survived this long without taking those meds, because he had the most severe form of leukemia - Adult Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia - and was suseptible to illness/viruses".

Bottom line: Tom's mental state is not good. He isn't present, mentally. If you visit, he will not respond. If he does, it will be for a couple of seconds and then he will be out of it again.

It's very disturbing. Katie and I had some private emotional time together, alone in the room with Tom.