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 ....you are at it again? Then when I was in bed, my nurses would say............you 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.