Quentin, Part 2.

I arrive on the ward the next day to see Quentin actually opening his eyes. Yesterday he was obtunded, not responding to voice or painful stimuli. Today, his eyes open when I shout his name (he's a bit deaf) and when I tap his shoulders. This is a wonderful improvement.

His blood tests also show improvement. His oxygen levels are better and his blood is less acidotic. The breathing machine has helped blow off extra carbon dioxide in his blood, the fluids are bumping up his blood pressure nicely, and the antibiotics seemed to be working. His white cell count went down from 22 on admission to 16 (normal range is 4.5 to 11.0 [× 109/L])

His family are thrilled. I warn them not to be too optimistic just yet; he's not out of the woods, although he has had a major improvement and I hope he will continue to improve. Nevertheless, they (and there is a big crowd. At least five of them visit him daily and on that first day when I told them he might die, he had at least fifteen visitors) beamed from ear to ear.

Over the next week, Quentin improves in leaps and bounds. I manage to wean off his oxygen and his urinary catheter. His blood tests normalise. His intake was still pretty poor so he needs IV fluids still, but less and less as his intake increases. His family visits at meal times to help feed him and encourage him to eat.

Two weeks after his first admission date, he is discharged. Weaker than before, but not needing oxygen, fluids or antibiotics. His family are thrilled.