Saturday, June 14, 2014

Tomorrow, tomorrow, if only tomorrow....

So I'm hanging out in ICU... wanting for a shower, a hairbrush, pretty much anything (because really, what else am I gonna do?  They've cut off my connections to the "real world" in the name of rest which I've now determined I totally suck at) and McGruff continues her regularly scheduled interruptions of my day with her laminated cards and another test that absolutely was maddening.  This test was one that I call "let's see how big a failure you still are, k?"  The purpose...to constantly remind the patient of what they CANNOT do.  Oh, and to properly play the game, the administrator has to bark orders in a drill sergeant tone that just makes the patient want to throw that big 28 ounce mug of water at her.  Here is how it goes (keep in mind I'm in a hospital bed when we are having all of this fun)...after the pink card drill, McGruff would lift up my left arm to heights equal to ABOVE MY HEAD, command me to hold it there for 10 seconds and then release my arm...It would fall to only a couple inches off the bed, every fricken time.  But I would try my hardest to hold it up and even try to elevate it some more while she counted in what had to be the slowest voice she could muster.  Yep, I was pretty much helpless on this side.  Then McGruff would move to the end of the bed and lift my left leg up at least a foot and repeat the fun and games.  Each time, the extremity would fall helplessly back to within an inch or two of the bed and it would take every exhausting ounce of energy I had to try to hold it for the requisite time even a couple inches off the bed.  Talk about defeating, this game was not for the weak in spirit.  It kicked my butt.

They did a ton of tests and lab throughout the day on Wednesday and I truly was hoping for an upgrade to a regular room because they promised when I got to a regular hospital room, not an ICU room, that I could have a shower and wash my hair.  But, after all was said and done, I was stuck in intensive care for yet another day.  No relief on Wednesday would happen.  The tests did go from every 15-30 minutes to every 30 minutes only though, so that was a bit better.  Now I could at least catch a quick catnap between tests.

Angel reported for duty her usual perky self Wednesday night and I was beyond glad to see her.  Even though it was her job to perform the same tests that McGruff did every 30 minutes, she at least smiled when she did them and we laughed and joked about things while we went through the exercises.  It made it all that much more bearable.  Attitude is everything when you are in a room with no windows for days on end. 

Wednesday night overnight at some point there was a ton of banging around in ICU.  They were bringing a new patient in and they had to move some chairs and stuff to get the bed situated.  That was the excitement for the night.  That and I actually got to sleep for an hour at a time because they had reduced the frequency of the testing. 

Thursday morning I was hoping and praying that I would get out of intensive care and the hospitalist, Dr F said I might get to, but wasn't promising.  Had to do some more tests and they were waiting on results from my echocardiogram.  McGruff was back with Wifey and when they showed their dull, glassy-eyed faces in my room for the 11:30 (she was back to every 30 minutes because I guess somebody had forgot to tell her that I had been upgraded to hourly torture instead of every 30 mintues) testing,   Dr. F was with them and announced that I was moving.  HipHipHooray!!  I was getting a regular room upstairs on the stroke floor.  Still not home clear, but it was better.  There would be windows and more room and light.  The intensive care unit was sort of dim and very quiet and overly boring.  Even the television stations seemed to be showing things in non-HD just to match the level of dullness that was required for this part of the hospital. 

So around noon my caravan loaded up and wheeled me up to the 8th floor.  McGruff and Wifey were making their final walk with me (thank you sweet Jesus!) and I was introduced to Auntie.  The new nurse that would be taking care of me.  Auntie was like every kid's favorite aunt who spoils them rotten and spends way too much time doting on them.  But she also liked to eavesdrop and interject her own opinion in your personal conversations you were having with people.  Before McGruff handed me off she told Auntie, "she doesn't like to drink water and she eats slow, watch her".  I tried to stick my tongue out at McGruff but she thought I was just trying to see if I could do it, she didn't understand the gesture.  Clueless!

Auntie got me all settled in and lunch was served, not even sure what it was but Auntie reheated it for me and I got a very small cup of Dr. Pepper too.  Goodness it tasted TERRIBLE.  Like cough syrup.  I thought they had tricked me.  There was no way that this could be my beloved DP.  But, it was.  My heart was broken.  The thing that I had longed for, was not what I thought it was.  It was a sad, sad day.  But on the brighter side, I was told by a small Hispanic woman that I would be getting a shower later in the afternoon.  If only I had known then, what I know now.  I would not have been so excited. Showers are overrated.

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