I've been writing all along, my nurses can't believe it. This all starts on Tuesday night, late: I'm sitting here in my room writing while my nurses Sharon and Hermengildo whose name I have fun pronouncing are looking for someone named Roman to put in another IV. I woke up throwing up and pulled my IV out. Aparently in his own home country Roman is an anesthesiologist and can get IV's into people who are otherwise hard to do. I have this one vien the crook of my left arm that the nurses fought over when I checked in because it was the only one everyone could see. Everyone here thinks it's so curious that I document everything, and that I've brought my Sony cyber shot camera. I keep feeling like I have to pee, I'm so aware of my bladder, but I think it's because they've left my catheter in for me because with my IC my needing to get up to pee twice an hour just wouldn't be something I could do so close to such major surgery. My back hurts so much and my wounds especially the drain are itchy. I was so out of earlier when people called and when Scott left it makes me wonder if I've had too much pain medication or not enough anti-nauseau. You have to fight for everything you need here. It's better much better during the day, but when the night shift comes, things can pop off of you, tubes can be left open with blood and other fluid leaking all over the place for a good long time before anyone will come attend to you. I know this because the bulb that collects the fluid from the drain in my stomach has come off twice today. And now even though I woke up feeling extremely nauseous and had to throw up, I'm just sitting here alone and waiting hoping they can find this man Roman to come help.
Since I always like to think that everything happens for the best, I'm working on coming from the acceptance angle regarding my IV. I'm trusting that this was meant to be so that the nurses would have to move hteline to my hand so I don't have to deal with this disturbing insessant beep alering that the pump emits whenever I so much as bend my arm. Last night my nurse Sharon fed up with the beeping, asked me if she could tie my arm to a splint and good compliant patient that I normally am, I was surprised to hear this tiny child like voice rise up out of me and say "no". Instead I made them bring the pole around the bed, closer to where I can reach it, and teach me how to push this very simple button twice to get it to shut up.
I feel very alone in this because despite my kind friends having offered to come by and help me out, the only people I have felt well enough to see are my immediate family. And no one has the time or the desire to stay as long as I need them to. I look in at the people in the rooms nearest me and envy the patients there whose families sleep beside them through the night. Oh, thank god, I was sitting here struggling with a tray and this lovely woman whom I've never seen before came in and with this sweet comforting Irish accent asked me if she could help. ("Hello, are you doing all right in here? YOu seem to be having a bit of a struggle.") Pauline, she's from Dublin, where my birth family come from. She let me tell her my troubles and kept me company while I cried.
THere is this man, my nurse's assitant, Herminegildo, who is one of the few people you can find at night. He's from South American somewhre and he likes to joke around and always manages to say the wrong thing. Tonight he leaned in my doorway and made an insensitive comment saying he bet I was sexy when I was younger and asked whether i was thinner then. Then he proceeded to tell me I was the biggest person he had ever seen. Then "Other than some of the people from Saudi Arabia, they grow them very big there."
This is the same guy who made some kind of joke about my catheter that he thought was funny. I was sitting on the edge of my bed and he was standing behind me fiddling with something when he said "Uh. Oh. Not good. You won't be going home tomorrow." I was sort of alarmed and surprised because I keep waiting in fear for the other shoe to drop, and I didn't know what awful thing he'd discovered. He never explaiend himself, just laughed, patted me, repeated his name a few times, said he was just joking and then left me. A similar thing happened with Phillip, my day nurse today, who was asked to run an EKG for me, but didn't really have hte experience to do it. He said "oh, no!"thinking he had spotted some serious abnormality that turned out to be nothing, said "Are you experiencint shortness of breath?" When I asked him to assure me nothing was wrong, he said "I can't tell you that. I have to show this to the doctor right away," and ran out of the room. He never came back. I had to call my own doc. It was nothing, he just didn't know how to read it.
4am on Tuesday, feeling a bit cheerier, still medicated, still with the terrible pains in my neck, but the nausea has subsided and I am feeling better emotionally. My mom came in and did her whole number, demanding her blood pressure be taken, demanding a bottle of water. She wanted all the bright lights on so she could read and my fan turned off because it bothered her. She read out loud to herself for about half an hour and then left for her massage.
Oh, Scott just got here, so I'm going to go! I have more I've written, but I will post them either tomorrow or after I get home. I LOVE YOU ALL!!