Colors

It has been pointed out that the cool color of crocs abroad is ORANGE. I know the shade. It's not a subtle, la la la orange. It's a screaming "lookatme!" statement. Let's keep it abroad!
Not to mention that orange clashes with light blue, which is the only color of scrubs this hospital allows.
Most the nurses are still wearing the maroon/burgundy Danskos, which I personally never wore because they add a good 3 inches to your stature.
It's funny how with blogging, you think you are going to write about one thing, but it comes out completely different.
I was going to post about how frusterating it can be trying to convince a 23 year old that he really could die from his GVH (graft vs. host...look it up if you want to be grossed out and/or just thankful you don't have it.)
It is hard to explain to him that he could likely die in a puddle of his own feces. That, in case he hasn't noticed, he had pooped 4,500 ml of liquid poop in the past 24 hours. That's about 2 gallons.
And it is harder still to know that his wife is due to give birth in July, and today the doctors told him he has a 30% survival rate....if he cooperates, which so far he does not want to do.
When we say survival, we don't mean "back to normal." We mean, you will be able to breathe on your own.
Survival does not mean you can pee, poop, eat, turn over in bed, lift your arm up, sit up, cough, walk, talk, or move at all... on your own.
I don't think people understand that.
It certainly does come down to "quality of life." But there is no definition of that, really.
If someone told you that by drinking juice you could die, would you believe them?
If you knew you might live by not eating anything, or drinking anything, would you do it? Especially if you knew you were getting all the nutrition you needed through your IV?
Everyone is different. Some people would say "I don't care. If I am going to die, why not tackle that steak?"
Others would say, "I will do my best, even if it means I don't even swallow my own spit!"
It is facinating, yet heart wrenching, to see how people make decisions in their life. Especially critical ones, like how to fight. Or how to live.
It seems so simple for me to logically look at him and think, "If it was me, I would be doing every single thing the nurses and doctors are telling me to do. I want to live. If they tell me to touch my nose every 2 hours, then I'm watching the clock and setting alarms!"
But I am not in his shoes. I don't make decisions for people. And thank God for that! Sometimes it is such a huge relief that I don't have to make this decision for them. That no matter what they choose to do, God's will be done.
I guess that's what makes it easy to separate from the struggles at the end of the day: they aren't my struggles.
I think I know how I would react, what I would decide. Hopefully it will never be my decision to make. But if that time comes, it will be my decision.
From orange crocs to this. Funny how blogging takes you where it will!
It's good to be me and be able to blog about it!