The Invisible Black Woman

We were both still reeling from the “resistant insulin” of it all when we got our next visitor. This time, she brought good tidings and hope. Dr. Farouk, a senior resident from the pulmonology team, entered the room with a junior resident in tow.

After the usual pleasantries, Dr. Farouk smiled and shared the news we had been longing to hear: hubby’s numbers were looking good, and he would be going home today.

I was doing cartwheels in the only place I could do so safely: in my head.

“That’s fantastic! Do you think we could be out of here by noon?”

I knew I spoke for both of us when I asked that question. Three hours seemed like a good amount of time to handle the paperwork and get hubby ready to leave, but if we could manage it sooner, I certainly wouldn’t mind.

“I’ll put in the discharge order as soon as I leave the room. “The nurse will go over the discharge instructions, and after that, you should be able to head home.”

“Thank goodness!”

Hubby and I exchanged relieved glances. It was finally happening—we were on our way out. No more endless waiting, no more rounds of new information piling on top of old frustrations. We didn’t have any questions for Dr. Farouk; all we wanted was to get home.

The room was beginning to feel like a revolving door of sorts. After Dr. Farouk and her colleague left, there was another knock on the door. We both signaled for her to come in.

“Hi, my name’s Annette. I just go around and talk to all the patients with heart failure to reinforce what you already know. I’ll also make sure your follow-up appointment is scheduled for when you discharge, and I’ll call a week later to check on you.”

We’re still waiting on that call.

By the way hubby had his hand across his head, I could tell he wasn’t interested in much conversation, so I decided to take the lead.

“I know he’s going to be sent home with a couple of medications. We usually go to CVS, but if we get them filled here, can they be delivered to the room?”

“I can ask the pharmacy team if they offer bedside delivery. I’ll check that for you.”

I figured since we had time to kill and I’d seen a sign on the way up, it wouldn’t hurt to ask about having the prescriptions filled there and save ourselves a trip to the pharmacy.

“That would be great.”

“I’ll confirm with them and let you know. If you have any trouble filling prescriptions or need help after discharge, let me know.”

“Do we know when discharge will be?” Hubby took that as his queue to ask about it.

“It doesn’t sound like today based on the rounds I heard earlier, but I’ll double-check with the pulmonology team since they didn’t come to rounds. There’s still a possibility you might be leaving today, but I’ll follow up on that and make sure your meds and follow-up appointment are sorted.”

“We just saw Dr. Farouk and she definitely said today.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll get that confirmed then.”

Once she was out of earshot, hubby sighed softly.

“We’re going home, she just didn’t know is all.”

I was doing my best to reassure him the end was in sight. Yet the minutes ticked by, and the morning stretched on. Another knock at the door broke the tense anticipation. This time it was his tech, Precious. Just like her name, she was cheerful and bubbly.

“Good morning! I’m here to check vitals and help with anything you need.”

 “Any update on discharge? Just curious if we’re still looking at today.”

 “No updates yet, but they’re still finalizing some things. It should be after lunch. I’ll check with the nurse and doctors again to confirm.”

So much for leaving at noon.

Another knock, another visitor.

“Hi, I’m Joyce, one of the case managers. I just want to go over some final details for your discharge plan.”

That perked hubby right up. Any information that would get him closer to leaving was music to his ears.

“Sounds good.”

“Let’s confirm a few things.”

She rattled off our address and asked us to confirm it.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And you’ll have transportation home?”

I raised my hand and said, “that’ll be me.”

“Perfect. Do you have any mobility aids—cane, walker, anything like that?”

“No.”

“And you’ll be able to manage daily tasks—grocery shopping, cooking, and all that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I think we’re all set. Do you have any questions for me?”

 “No, we’re good.”

“Great. I’ll make sure everything is ready for when you’re discharged.”

A little after 11 a.m., Precious returned.

“I just wanted to update you both. The doctors are still rounding, and it looks like discharge won’t happen before noon.”

I mean, by now we’d figured that out. It did have me looking at Dr. Farouk super side-eyed since she assured us she would put in the papers as soon as she stepped out. Sometimes it really feels like people will tell you any damn thing.

“So it’ll be after lunch. Make sure to order something, since it’ll be a bit longer.”

“Alright, thanks for the update.”

Hubby let out an annoying groan after she left.

“I just want to go home.”

I rubbed his arm gently. “Soon, love. Soon.”

At that point, I was trying to convince myself just as much as I was trying to convince him.