“One of the things my parents taught me – and I’ll always be grateful for the gift – is to not ever let anyone else define me.” ~ Wilma Mankiller
The more common name is picc line, but this is really a mid-line. It’s Mom’s midline to be precise. You can see it was put in last Friday, the 25th, because we were expecting her home on Saturday, the 26th. Today is August 29, and as much as I’d like to say she’s home and safely ensconced in her bed, I cannot. Thank you, insurance company. The doctor called me at 2:30 this afternoon and asked me to come to the hospital for training on midline use. I did. I was trained. We waited. At 4:30, the poor doctor had to tell us the insurance still hadn’t dealt with mom’s request to go home, which meant the antibiotics weren’t ready, and the training I received was not with an approved nurse. It turns out there’s a specific nurse who can only train me before they’ll let Mom leave (I think this is also an insurance thing). So, I came home and finished my work day and Mom is trapped until further notice. The good news is that she continues to receive excellent care. The nursing team even got her into the shower this evening, but I’ll tell you what, this trip to the hospital has been unlike any other. Hopefully, Shero will be home soon. She’s been really positive about it all, so I know she is feeling much better, and that makes the hassle and confusion worth it.
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