Two Steps Back

Inspirational song: Cryin' (Roy Orbison)

This was not my best day ever. It started out on such a high note. Last night's night nurse was an angel and I loved her. She got me set up with a pain med schedule that truly got a handle on things. Thanks to her I was able to sleep for long hours and feel rested and healing for the first time since I came here. But once we turned things over to day shift and I tried to explain the plan of action, all I got was a dismissive "we won't be doing that." I was ignored, treated like I was asking for the moon, and told to forget everything that helped me. I had to continually fight just to have my toes slightly elevated, a drug free option that made all the difference in the world in how well I slept. I had to ring the bell multiple times before my nurses were told of any of my needs. By the time pain woke me at noon, and I was asking for the injectible pain meds that were listed on the dry erase board I'm facing, I was blown off repeatedly. I asked four separate times for help, and when my nurse came in at 1:40, I had been arched up for 20 minutes, an unrelenting 10 on the pain scale taking my breath away, tears streaming down my face. No lie, she said, "Why didn't you ring for me? You have to call me. I won't just bring in the meds unless you ask." The other nurses on the floor came in and took me out of her hands after that. The man who cared for me from about three until six was more like the night nurse, efficient and ready to do what it takes to make me feel better. I think he and my new night nurse are genuinely appalled by what happened to me today. But it made for significant backsliding. My fever spiked to over 101 and I was nauseated and weak for hours. I had been optimistic that I would go home tomorrow. Now with the increased pain, nausea, and how often my drain soaks its dressing (4 changes already today and it's damp now), I don't think I can take care of myself at home.

The halls here are haunted. There is an old man down the hall who is very confused. He keeps ringing his bell and asking where he is. They tell him over and over, but he doesn't get it. All afternoon long, I have heard him call out to the room, "Hello? Hello?" All I hear in my head is Torden walking around my house, saying the exact same thing. "Meow? Meow?" It's even the same note that Torden called out on.

I'm due a percocet and a Zofran for good measure in 20 minutes. This time I have talked it over with my nurse and she knows that I want it on time, and I will want to "dash" into the bathroom yet again. I don't know who wrote this on my plan for the day, but they got one thing right. I'm really good at potty trips. I have to take comfort where I can.