The previous night in the ICU it was determined that I had dysphagia, a fancy schmancy way of saying that I was not getting any food or drink until later. Much later. I was so thirsty. I was thirsty when I was hauled into the ER. I was thirsty when I was being tested. I really just wanted a Route 44 Dr. Pepper from Sonic. Badly. But, since dysphagia can cause the food or liquid to go into my airway or lungs because I had a reduced sensation in my throat and limited control over my swallowing, I was getting nothing. Angel, on the nightshift, did give me a wet swab to swab my mouth but that was it. I wanted to EAT the swab, except it tasted terrible...but man I was hungry too. I swore my liver was biting my spleen kind of hungry, to borrow from a Tyler Perry line. So no food or drinks (not even water) for me until they did further testing.
As the overnight shift ended and Angel wrapped up her work, the daytime crew came on duty and what I knew about nurses ended. I always thought that they were to be kind and compassionate and caring and helpful. Man, was I ever further from the truth on Wednesday. My daytime ICU nurse was an older woman, or at least she had had a hard life up to this point that caused her to look older, and she immediately made it known that she was "all business". No chit-chat, no nothing. Just get the information and tests and whatever else criteria had to be met done and move on. This was McGruff. The first time McGruff came into my room she had a younger, prettier nurse with her. Actually I thought I was seeing things because I swore the younger nurse was my cousin's ex-wife, only nicer and way saner (is that a word?) (Wifey). She wasn't, thankfully. McGruff wrote her and the younger nurse's names on the whiteboard in my room and told me that Wifey was new to the hospital and therefore would be shadowing her for the next couple days.
So the every 15-30 minute checks for internal bleeding (guess that is one of the possible side effects of the stroke drug) were started by McGruff and Wifey. One of the things that they did was to test my understanding and recognition. They had 3 laminated 8.5" x 11" pink papers. The first one had a horrible drawing (like something I'd draw) of a kid standing on a tilting step stool trying to get cookies off of a top shelf, while another child stands below to receive the cookies and it had a woman with her back turned to them, looking out the window at some very poorly drawn trees, supposedly washing dishes and the water is leaking out of the sink. I had to tell them what was wrong with the picture. The first few times it wasn't too bad. Then I became bored with the picture (keep in mind, they are showing me the SAME picture every 30 minutes or so), so Angel let me make up stories to tell about the stuff. But not McGruff! No sirree....if I didn't tell her verbatim what was on that sheet, she noted it. And it wasn't a good note either, like, "Patient has full range of knowledge" or "Patient is bored out of her very well working mind". Nope. McGruff noted things like, "Patient is testy." When were they going to understand? My mind was working just fine. My ability to operate was not working though. I just couldn't verbalize or move correctly. My mind, though, never stopped working.
The second of the 3 pages had a set of very random pictures on it. Like a hammock, a grouping of cactus, a feather (that I kept wanting to say, "hat" on for some reason!), and other odd items. They'd point to the picture and I'd have to tell them what the item was. By the way, the acceptable term for hammock is NOT that thing between two trees that you take a sleep in. Yep, the first time or two I could not remember the word hammock to save my soul. I was lost. And of course you can't keep telling them that the feather is actually a hat. They just don't buy it. But gradually I got those words back in my mind and reserved for the next bazillionth times they would ask.
The third sheet of the 3 sheets was a list of words. I don't know why they have these particular words on the page, or what the significance of these words are, but I'm sure it has to do with if I could pronounce certain things. Some of these were hard the first day or two. It sucked! The words included things like Mama, Baseball, fifty-fifty, huckleberry and a few others that have slipped my mind (I'm sure it is my mind's way of blanking out the trauma of that horrible pink piece of paper..lol). At least every 30 minutes from the time I was brought into ICU until I left ICU I was given this test, along with a couple other tests.
The shifts for the nurses change every 12 hours in ICU. So McGruff and Wifey were my entertainment from 7am to 7pm. Because lets face it, even though ideally I'd be sleeping or at least trying to, I was not going to get any sleep if I had to partake in this spectacle every 30 minutes. Keep in mind at 7am, McGruff had introduced herself and Wifey. When they came in for the 3pm circus, McGruff says, "this is Wifey, she's new to the hospital so she'll be following me the next couple days". I looked at Wifey, wondering if I had lost my mind because I could have sworn that she had been there for the past several hours already. Wifey rolls her eyes behind McGruff's back and I just nodded in understanding.
About mid-day another specialist comes in and tests my swallowing and stuff and deems it ok for me to start getting food and water. I was so thankful. The first thing that McGruff did was bring in this big 28 oz plastic mug with a lid and straw full of ice cold water. I was grateful!! That would be the last time I was grateful for McGruff's water assistance.
Now, I am not normally a water drinker. I will drink it if it is really cold or I am extremely thirsty, but its just not a thing I usually imbibe. I know, I'm bad that way, but its the truth. I drank as much as I could immediately and once my thirst was quenched I just left the mug sitting on the little bedside table. That was not acceptable to McGruff. She expected me to drink at least one of those 28 ounce containers every 2 to 2.5 hours. Was NOT happening.
Since lunch had already been dispersed by the time that I was deemed "able to eat", McGruff called and got whatever food was available brought down. It showed up just as Wheelie came around for his mid-day checks. Of course, I wanted to hear and listen and talk to Wheelie (and frankly find out what the heck was going on) more than I wanted to eat (I was pretty sure my liver and spleen battle had already ended badly for the spleen, lol), so I was going to wait for him to leave before I ate my food. It's not polite to eat in front of strangers, is it? But McGruff insisted on pointing out that I was a slow eater and drinker. To which Wheelie instructed me that I had to improve in this area. He wouldn't listen to the fact that I had just gotten my food within the last 5 minutes before he rolled in the door. McGruff was a tattletale. This would not be tolerated.
The food was scrumptious though when I did eat it. Reminded me of the old Hensley's chicken and noodles (was supposed to be chicken and dumplings or something). And even though it sounds weird, I had applesauce jello that was delightful. It was no five-star dining experience, but then I wasn't exactly dressed for a 5 star experience either. Let's face it, my hair needed washed (brushed would have been nice too), I wanted a shower, and I'm sure that I probably looked a total mess! Not exactly fine dining attire. But I didn't care. I was eating real food finally (I hadn't eaten since Monday night..it was now Wednesday mid-day). If you learn nothing else from this blog, learn to eat a midnight snack or at least grab a donut for breakfast because you never know when you will eat again. Or shower. Or shampoo your hair. Could I at least get a hairbrush?
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