Day 8-10 - The Calm Before the Storm

I am nearly 1 year out of this whole experience, so I clearly would admit that my "memories" may be a bit fuzzy, jaded, and distorted, but as always...I don't care.

Day 8 begins at roughly 7:30am, when I first meet the only male nurse on the floor, Ted. Ted is a hulking of a man, although considering my lightweight dimensions, that may be an overstatement. He turns out to be an incredibly charming, witty, and funny guy to hang with. He woke me up, and did some usual vital signs, and off he went on his merry way.

After a while, my mother and her new beau come strolling in to check in and see how things are going. It wasn't long before the bomb came reigning down from the non-existent heavens that they had "decided to leave today." That was code for: Beau doesn't want to be here, he's pushing me to leave, and since I can't think for myself, I caved in to leave you laying here still taking some pretty serious pain medication.

As I recall, they left around noon. It was thought I was "out of the woods" so-to-speak and everything following this day would be simple. They *could* make that argument, and my mother subsequently *did* make that argument, to which many in the family seemingly were incredulous at.

Upon asking me, laying there in a hospital bed, doped up on pain medication, "Is it okay if we go?" I literally was left speechless. How was I suppose to say no to that? I had no time, nor was I in the position, to mount some counterargument as to why she was being a ginormous asshat. Moreover, no matter how much I argued, I didn't see me getting my way in any shape or form.

Luckily, my afternoon proved eventful to keep my jaw from smacking the mattress I was stuck on while pondering what exactly had just occurred. After my lunch, which consisted of some fruit, applesauce, and some yogurt i believe...I got my first sponge-bath I could ever recall.

Ted, the nurse showed up at my door, and with his big hands and arms got me to painfully move upright and enough to effectively give me the bath my body had been lacking for a week. We bantered back and forth a bit as he kept me propped up and pretty much undressed my ass. He delicately worked around the massive staples and scar that was just beginning to heal, and around the massive bandage in the middle of my chest from a tiny leak that would eventually have to be hand-sewn shut.

Ted, wonderful Ted, took the whole hour to clean me up, give me a respectable shave, and generally made me feel better. It was serious mental progress, in retrospect.

Later that afternoon, just before dinner arrived, the physical therapist arrived to assess how terrible I looked. It was at this point that I was encouraged, and took a stand. Literally. I stood. I looked like a freaking hunchback with my torso bending over, but I stood. Despite standing, my prospects didn't look good. There was talk of possibly needing outside therapy after I was discharged.

Later that evening, I went for the first of what would turn out to be an interesting adventure of procedures. *cough* I was put into a serious sedation and a thing was put down my throat to discern what was causing some numbers they were seeing from the bloodwork not look quite right.

Day 9-10 marked my first Saturday and Sunday that I was mostly awake for. On the floor, those days were the most quiet. There were very few doctors visits, and without my aunt visiting me and bringing wished from my grandmother and my doggie, I would have been even more bored. Being immobile & stuck to a bed, gives you much incentive to get OUT of said bed.

Saturday proved to be a giant blur, as I slept most of the day having been tired from the emotional stress and the physical stress of Friday with the therapy, the bath, and the "procedure." I was completely whipped.

The funny thing about nurses is, they aren't kidding. The sooner you get your fat ass out of bed, the better. And, I knew it. Early on, I pressed myself and pushed a few envelopes without being reckless to get my fat keister off the bed (and yes, sister, it actually was fat at this point!).

The other thing about nurses, is it's a great idea to know how to find the good ones early, and to find ones who will be willing to help you out when you really want something. I had one, and I knew it. Sunday, I stood again and even took some very shaky steps. I was white-knuckling the walker. Late Sunday, I had Elanor as my nurse. She struck me as a bit of a firecracker and someone willing to let me walk, so when I pondered, she was more than willing. Once I was up, there was no stopping me. I headed out the door at speed of warp 1, and I walked a good ways.

With these forceful attempts at getting myself back into shape, I saw a slight drop in the overall swollenness of my body by the time Monday rolled around. I was so impressed with myself and buoyed by my progress, I had visions of going home that very Friday.

Day 11 will begin on Monday morning and the beginning of a hellacious week.