A difficult start to the night for Mog, and a frustrating one for me. The discovery that one drug had been missed off the drugs chart, explaining some of the problems she had last night. This the day after discovering another drug had been missing, and a few hours before realising one of the PRNs was incorrectly dosed too. Oh, and then the night nurse came in to lecture me about using out of date medication - whilst I'll take responsibility for it being out of date, I'm not sure why it was my fault no one noticed on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. Mog's oxygen levels dropped as soon as she dropped off to sleep in the early evening, but a good seizure had them up at 100% again - jolly useful thing those great gasping fits she has sometimes! And then she had a beautifully settled few hours' sleep.
So this morning the great respiratory man came around and reviewed her, and decided she could go home. Diagnosis? Hmmm. Deterioration. The good news, she won't need surgery as it isn't her tonsils causing the problem. The bad news, it's floppiness at the back of her throat so surgery won't help. Treatment? Keep her in a good position. And he thinks having a proper SATs monitor at home, one which she can wear overnight and which will alarm if she drops very low, would be a sensible idea. Of course now I'm sitting here at home and wondering what we do when the monitor alarms if just getting her upright again doesn't in fact help, but at least I can sleep at night until that happens rather than lying in bed wondering if it's already happening. Or will be able to, when we get the monitor.
So, home. One very very happy Mog. One mostly happy Little Fish, allowing the events of the last few days to catch up with her and so being a little precious. Three delighted cats, one of which has been begging me to take a hairbrush to his tail and back legs, and de-leaf him. One house which appears to have multiplied its chaotic norm in my absence, not entirely sure how that has happened but I'm reassured by the fact it has. At least this proves it isn't all me. Or something. And one very tired me, not quite relaxed about having Mog at home knowing that she does horrible things overnight, but on the whole rather jolly pleased our family is back together again and hoping the next hospitally emergency is a long way off.
And realising, as I write this, that we are in fact at home and that this does in fact mean I actually have to go and sort out the drugs myself; they aren't going to magically appear on a tray held at my elbow as I swoosh them through Mog's gastrostomy. So I'd better go and do that.