con’t from Hospital Night Terrors
9 am in the ER. Everyone is gearing up for another busy day.
I’d made it through to the other side of night.
I didn’t feel stronger for it.
I didn’t feel relieved.
I felt like I had begun to climb Kilimanjaro and had only made it to the first base camp.
A new nurse by the name of Kristina has been assigned to me. She is young, tall and thin. She seems sweet.
A surprise…she wheels me out of the triage room and into one of the triage caves with curtains. I would have my own three walls finally!
She told me that she had seen me all day yesterday suffering in the hallway and said she made it her mission to get me into that triage room.
She must have seen how desperately I needed that.
Having not slept at all and living through what was undoubtedly the worst night and past five days of my life I had a feeling I looked as bad as I felt.
I was repulsed by my own body, now completely foreign to me. I hadn’t had a bath or shower for five fulls days since the surgery. I hadn’t brushed my teeth, hair or washed my face in five full days.
Kristina understood.
She gave me two fresh hospital gowns. When she helped me on with them I felt the tears welling up inside me again. I fought hard and pushed them back down. I didn’t want to break now but I was physically trembling with gratitude. Feeling something clean and dry against my skin meant I hadn’t totally disappeared.
I was still here.
I still counted.
She suggested some fancy “boy shorts” in lieu of the humiliating diapers. Really they looked like a stretchy dishcloth and for some reason reminded me of Sponge Bob Square Pants, but they were a million times better than what I’d been forced to wear thus far.
She offered up a shower. A shower! My heart leapt! Well… a shower in a bag. It was a bunch of sealed wipes in a bag but I was allowed to go to the washroom on my own and freshen up.
I leaned on my IV pole and putting one trembling foot in front of the other slowly made my way to the washroom at the end of the hall.
Once in the bathroom, door locked, privacy! I looked at myself in the mirror…
Who was that? I didn’t know her.
A deranged haggard old lady with tubes and bags attached to her withering, deformed body. Vacant eyes, blank stare, gaunt chalky face, a rat’s nest of hair piled high on top of her head.
Who was that? Where had I gone?
I couldn’t think about it or I’d never leave that bathroom again.
I stopped looking in the mirror and simply focused on the task at hand.
I started with my teeth and the toothbrush that Robert had bought me before he left. Feeling the toothbrush rub against my teeth and the fresh cool taste of the toothpaste in my mouth was better than the best spa day I’d ever had.
Trying to get on the boy shorts while wearing a catheter and IV was much more difficult than I had imagined. No one tells you how to manage when you have tubes coming out of your body. In the end no matter how many times I tried I just made a mess of it. The tubing was rolled into the dishcloth underpants and I was a tangled up mess. I had to use the Emergency button in the bathroom and call for help. Luckily it was Kristina that came to my rescue. It took a bit of ingenuity, yoga moves and turning (like a warped game of Twister) to get me all untangled, but she did it.
I finished taking my “shower” and I felt slightly more human.
A tiny glimmer of myself appeared.
The smallest ember of hope ignited in my belly.
I wasn’t totally lost yet.
My Dr. came by.
She asked me how I was.
Wrong question.
I think she could tell by my appearance and my attitude that I was beyond disgusted and miserable.
She said that it was up to my new Dr. to decide how long I stayed in hospital and any further treatment. He was still suggesting that I remain in hospital for seven more days. Seven more days.
I told her in no uncertain terms that should I need to stay there, in the ER, under these circumstances, that I would simply not get better. In fact I would deteriorate, quickly.
I wouldn’t be leaving the hospital ever.
This is not a healing environment …
whatsoever.
Her answer was that eventually the body will simply give out and I would finally sleep, no matter where I was situated in the hospital.
I didn’t care for her answer.
She told me to plead my case with the new Dr. to see if I couldn’t leave the hospital earlier.
The remainder of our conversation was just… awkward.
I am very sick and it is because of her.
I may need to have another operation and it is because of her.
I will need to have a catheter for ten days to three weeks (maybe longer) and it is because of her.
There was no way around those facts.
I didn’t have my life anymore and it was because of her.
Continued here…“Two Weeks To The Day Since Surgery”
Suzanne dear, As each chapter of this unfolds my heart breaks for what you have been through. On every level you were taken down to the core. I totally understand why that comment from the Dr. was more than upsetting. What I do know, after reading this odyssey, is how incredibly strong you are. You pushed through it on every turn. That’s your unflappable will to live coming through. I’m so relieved that you are well enough to write and share your story.
I hope it feels cathartic in some ways. Bless you, really.
Here’s to healing and feeling more like yourself every day.
xx, Heather
Thank goodness for this new nurse trying to give you back at least some measure of dignity! I’m hoping this new doctor was easier to talk to. Also- why on earth would they keep you in the emergency room like that? I realize they have no new beds but it doesn’t make sense to keep people who need to stay longer in the emergency room like that. You need it clear for the new emergencies and surely someone will be discharged from the hospital eventually?
Each chapter I get angrier and angrier at your situation. Your Doctor needs to be in your shoes so she can get a CLUE. Have you contacted a lawyer??
This reads like a scary book!! I’m on the edge of my seat, and knowing this is NOT a fiction that I’m reading, makes it very tense. Knowing that you are writing means you are alive and obviously have come through this tramatic, painful plight!!!
I am waiting for the happy ending!!!
Sending love and prayers!!! <3
Oh, darling Suzanne … I hope that as I write you are getting better news than you’ve had. Good that you’re recording all these conversations. Nurses can be the be either the best or the worst … so much more often the former than the latter. They’ve saved my mental bacon more than one time. Doctors need to be much kinder and smarter than many of them are. But although I’ve been through similar, I’ve never been through a hospital experience so bad as yours. Your description of that furious and all important need to bathe is so on the money. You are such a writer.
We’re all out here, hoping for better news soon. It really isn’t the surgery that’s the battle … it’s the recovery that’s the bitch.
*HUGS* I just got finished reading all of your posts about your surgery. I feel drained and teary-eyed. I’m so very sorry that you have had to endure this nightmare. You are such a wonderful person and such a great writer! My prayers go out to you. I am just at a loss for words. 🙁
Ugh. That’s all I can think with every continuing chapter of this. Hospitals are not healing environments at all. I think the best idea is to stay far away!
I’m thinking of you, dear, and my thoughts are with you. Tomorrow is a new day, it will get a little easier bit by bit. I’m sorry for what you are going through and I hope you remain strong.
*HUGS* I just finished reading about your dreadful experiences in the hospital. My heart is broken for you. You deserve so much better. I’m so upset! Words fail me. Please get well soon. 🙁
I am furious, that doctor needs to have some remorse about this to your face! She says she feels bad and then goes home and consoles herself while you continue to suffer there?! She is dropping the ball and washing her hands of it. Time to call the Esquire. I am so sorry Suzanne. xo
Thanks so much for the kind words Heather.
Slowly…much slower than I’d like…but slowly I feel I’m regaining some of my health back.
Not yet.
I’m still waiting on my happy ending sadly. I haven’t given up though that’ll come. It is taking its sweet time getting here though.
Thanks so much Trish.
I couldn’t have prepared myself for this outcome even if I’d tried.
So very true. It’s best to avoid them at all costs.
Also another reason why I basically need to have one foot in the grave before I head to the hospital.
Thanks Lisa.
I am trying to remain strong and focused. I just want a healthy body again. That is my goal.
Thanks Gabriala.
If I don’t heal properly, or need another surgery, or have another more serious infection then I will be considering my legal options. People make mistakes it is true, but when it is with your health and well being they need to be accountable.
Okay, seriously, I would love to just punch that doctor in the nose, really, really hard. Or at least have my lawyer standing next to my bed the next time she drops by. Your sense of humour is amazeballs (love Helga’s word). Good job with the boy shorts.
Wow…you sound like someone that knows what she is talking about after having lived it yourself.
I’m realizing that recovery isn’t as easy as they make it. I am hopeful though and I have seen some signs of improvement…so here’s hoping : ) I am looking forward to seeing the stomach I know again sometime in the future. Puffy and swollen is so 2 weeks ago.
I can’t imagine the feelings associated with that doctor.
Sorry I posted twice. The first time I thought it got lost in internet space! It never showed for me and now I see it did. Oops.