Now I Will Go Home And Cry

con’t from I Can Survive If I Don’t Have To Do These Two Things

Catheter and IV in place I am wheeled out of the storage room and placed in a hallway. From here it gets a bit blurry. I was taking more and more Dilaudid while waiting in the hallway.

I got the CT scan.

Was placed back in Emergency in a hallway not too far from the nurse’s station.

How I wished I could just pass out from the pain and nausea. No such luck. I couldn’t close my eyes for too long because the dizziness would take over and that was far worse.

My surgeon appeared. She was rushing off to Radiology to get the CT results.

Thank God! I thought. Maybe now I could get out of this hell hole.

Laying in the hallway…for hours. Slowly the stretchers were being taken closer to triage and the nurse’s station. I was moved up right in front of the glass room where the Emergency nurse’s station was. All around the nurse’s station were triage units, tiny caves with three walls and a curtain to pull across the front. All the curtains were pulled back. There would be no privacy here. All the caves were full of other suffering patients. How I longed to leave the bustle of the nurse’s station and have my very own three walls.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Time passed.

A death march.

Refusing to be rushed despite my silent pleas.

In the evening my Dr. appeared,

“I’ve got news!” She exclaimed in her bubbly perky way.

Hope. I had hope.

“It’s not good news.”

I have no hope. Wipe that smile off your face then if it’s not good news.

“I am so very, very sorry to say that somehow during surgery I ruptured your bladder. I don’t know how. It could have been one of my instruments or when I was burning the endometriosis off of your bladder I may have gotten too close to the organ itself. The first time in fifteen years that this has happened to me. ” It didn’t happen to you. It happened to me.

“So now you will be taken care of by a urologist by the name of Dr. Kwan. He has deemed it necessary for you to stay in the hospital for 7-10 days to see if your bladder will start to heal itself. If not, then he will need to operate on you. Once again I am so very, very sorry about this. Now I will go home and cry.” You will go home and cry but I will apparently stay in this hell and suffer.

My heart sinks. I feel depression pushing my body down further into the iron stretcher. I cannot face the thought of one night in the hospital let alone 7-10.

It is now close to 8 pm. Robert needs to go home to look after Zoe our pug.

One of the nurses taking care of all of the “hall patients” stops and tells me I will be admitted and will staying there.

“Where? What room?”

“Right here.”

“Here???” My face falls.

“In the hallway?”

“Yes. Right here. We have no rooms or extra beds. We are too full tonight. You will need to stay here.”

I can’t stay in the hallway.

I won’t sleep.

I won’t get better.

I’ll get worse.

The nurse explains the only way a bed will open up is if someone gets discharged in the night (it never happens) or someone dies.

What do you say?

What do you think?

Nothing. That’s what.

You say nothing.

You shut up and suffer like everyone else around you.

Dr. Kwan shows up. He looks to be around 30 or so. Fresh faced but serious. He explains that he isn’t 100% sure that my bladder hasn’t been damaged in more than one place. He will try the first method of allowing the body to heal itself, but if by tomorrow my blood results haven’t changed (the bladder is now affecting my kidney function) then he will need to operate. He seems too confident and too keen to get me on his operating table.

I’m reeling at the thought of having another surgery.

I can’t.

I won’t survive.

It’ll be worse.

I don’t have faith that they can heal me.

Robert must leave me now. He has picked up a few things from the drug store so if by some miracle I can get off my stretcher, I will have a toothbrush and toothpaste. He has bought me two books. He knows I won’t be sleeping tonight.

I tell him, “Go ahead, leave me in this fresh hell, I’ll be fine.”

But really I don’t believe that.

I hadn’t properly slept in five days and not sleeping at all might finally push me completely over the edge.

I have been taking Dilaudid and Naproxen non stop for five days. It felt like my body wanted to shut down.

I worried about my sanity.

I didn’t think I could keep it together much longer.

As I turned my head as best I could from the stretcher to watch him leave I took a deep breath. How would I last?

I started calculating the hours. Fourteen hours until I saw him again and countless hours until I left the hospital. I focused on the closest goal.

Fourteen hours.

I started counting down.

Oblivious to the disturbing night that would ensue.

Continued here… “Hell At The Hospital”

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