Getting up for the first time and going home. April 14-17,2009.

Apr 26, 2009

I woke up and all I wanted was something to drink.  The only thing I could have was ice chunks.  They were the best ice chunks ever.  They made me get out of bed, which hurt like hell and annoyed me greatly.  I just wanted to sleep and was in a fog.  The nurses were all tiny, I have no idea why they would put a bariatric bed on a floor with little women as the nurses.  There were no handles on the bed, and I was like a turtle on my back with enormous pain.  I tried to go to the bathroom and there was a bar surrounding the toilet.  I almost needed a shoehorn to wedge my way down.  Getting up was worse and there was no way I could bend over to wipe myself.  I was in tears the entire time.  I walked up and down the hallways, a very boring affair - I needed an IPOD for sure.  I fell back to bed and slept for hours.

They kept asking me to walk, yet were never coming to give me pain meds or help me get up.  They said I could have pain meds every two hours, but did not just come give them to me every two hours.  This gave them a chance to wear off.  I also had squeezey boots on for circulation that had to be put on and off if they wanted me to walk.

So I would walk, the only on on the floor walking, and the nurses would be like are at it again?  Then when I was in bed, my nurses would need to be walking more.  I am still confused as to how many times a day I was to be walking.  It seemed like I had new nurses every four hours.  On the second day they brought me little tubs of gross protein cups, and a jello jiggler, and more ice chips.  I got through most of them, but longed to drink a large glass of water and chug it down.  I tried to stay up enough the second night to watch seven pounds, the drugs kept me asleep most of the time.

They sent in a rehab girl, she was so nice and perky.  She came to show me all these little devices I could use at home, like the "GOPHER" claw and such.  I have been using one of those for years during housework and laundry sorting.  She also wanted to see if I could use the bathroom by myself and shower myself.  I explained to her that I would do better at home, because there are things to grab onto.  She followed me to the hopital bathroom where I sat down in pain.  I broke down in tears because I knew I could not bend down and wipe, and she offered to do it for me.  I cried even more, like a little infant.  She didn't know what to do, poor girl.

Thursday the Physical Therapist guy came in the next day and somehow I got rid of him without much.  I told him I was walking okay and what a hellish bed I had in the hospital that wasn't helping.  The bed really needed a bar or something to pull myself up with.  My nutritionist also came in to release me, saying she could have gotten me a bed with a bar, I am going to tell her future patients will need it.

The days in the hospital smear together and I was never so happy to be leaving. I laid there watching Comedy Central, not a good idea when your body is sewn like a patchwork doll.  My surgeon came in and said I needed to walk more, but could go home.   I was afraid to be home, but sharing a room with an extremely sick elderly woman was not on my list of high points.