Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Trying to Be Patient...or just a trying patient!

October 14, 2009

A month and a day since I posted, but not too much of a surprise considering how much I've gotten done during that time. Even then, I would never have finished without all the help of my loyal family. This is starting to sound like an Emmy speech.


October 31, 2009

Two weeks and four days since I started this post, but not too surprising considering everything that's happened during that time. Even then, I would not be where I am without all the help of my loyal family. This is starting to sound repetitive.

November 9, 2009

What's another 9 days at this point?

My surgery was one month ago today, having just barely vacated our house the day before. It was getting a little frantic by that point, and even in the hospital I kept having dreams that I wasn't moved out yet, the people were coming to get the keys in a couple hours, and there was JUNK EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!! I would wake up there in the hospital, in lots of pain but so relieved it was all just a dream.

Unlike previous surgeries, I didn't crack any anestheticky jokes when I first woke up, or even for a couple days after. Abdominal surgery isn't such a picnic, as it turns out. The post-surgery diagnosis was adenomyosis, if you were curious.

Unlike my mom, and any of her fellow nurses when they are hospitalized, I was a model patient. Mostly. There was that one incident that was hardly worth mentioning.

See, when you have a surgery like that, they want you to get up and walk around as soon as possible, and then as much as you can stand after that. Let me assure you that if you've just been sliced open, you do not feel like walking around. At all. But it is the only way to alleviate certain difficulties that crop up after surgery. This blog is far too delicate a place to discuss them in detail, so let me just say that in the same way the big problem with sIn is the "I", the big problem with GI is also the "I". And I'm not talking about soldiers, either.

By Sunday morning, I was getting to be an old hand at that walking stuff, painful though it was. I woke up bright and early, walked myself to the lavatory without calling the nurse, and then decided I would get my walk out of the way next.

As usual, I took a left out of my room, crossed in front of the nurses' station, and made another left down the hallway leading to OB, where Mom used to work. Before even reaching the NICU, I began to feel dizzy. Hmmm. Maybe I wasn't going to make it all the way this time. I turned to go back. Suddenly, I felt a lot dizzy.

Stopping right where I was, I put my head down on the rail and tried to breathe slowly. The last thing I remembered for a while was a lady asking, "Are you ok?" and me, grudgingly shaking my head no.

Through the buzzing, I heard them all around me, pressing in. My arms made swimming motions, trying to escape the awful smell? Where was I? What kind of weird dream was this? The smell grew stronger, though I pushed it away as hard as I could. My eyes fluttered open, and lo I was indeed surrounded by a crowd. Heh. Heh. Hello, everyone. How...interesting...to see all of you here. On the floor.

Since I was already sitting up, propped by several pairs of arms, it wasn't too hard for them to help me into a wheelchair. Luckily for them, I was immediately able to tell them where I had escaped from, and they returned me to my horrified nurse. Later I would learn that the ammonia-wielding amazon had, in fact, been one of my mom's best friends, not to mention very petite. (She had even been the nursery nurse for at least one of my kids - Devon, I think. ) Let me tell you though, looming over me, vial in hand, she had a very commanding presence. And I knew if I was bad and got out of bed when I wasn't supposed to, she and her smelling salts would find me.

Tuesday morning I was finally ready to go to my temporary home at Mom's, having already disposed of any other home in CA. The only flaw in the housing arrangements were the owls who had already taken up residence in the attic directly above my bed. Scritch, scratch, hoot, scratch, scratch, hoot, scritch. Day after day. Night after night. How privileged I was - not everyone has owls in the belfry.

Until the next adventure,
Noni Beth

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