Sunday, January 18, 2009

Days Two AND Three!

Too busy to blog? Really, Linda, what have you to do all day but sit around a hospital room and chat up a Sickie? (I guess "Hurtie" would be more descriptive.) Well, just you take a look at my typical busy day:

1) read to Mr. Hurtie
2) sample the food on his trays to make sure they're feeding him properly. Actually, they often bring me a tray too -- nice.
3) rub lotion on his ever-itching back
4) answer the phone
5) look at the lovely view
6) water his flowers
7) read his we're-thinking-of-Alan emails to him
8) walk with him and PT-Brian down the hall
9) turn TV on now and then -- only to turn it off ten minutes later -- searching in vain for something worthwhile to watch.
10) watch movies on the VCR in the room

I mean, does that busy schedule allow me ANY time to blog? I think not!

Anyway, I'm happy to report that the patient is doing, well . . . pretty okay, I guess.

As anyone who' s had major surgery knows, it goes like this.

Day Zero: (day of surgery) La-la Land. No pain. Lots of attendants around making sure I'm comfortable.

Day One: Hm-m-m, this isn't so bad. Someone to bring me food and pain meds and oh, who's that lovely redhead hovering over me constantly requiring as to my comfort? Oh, yes, it's my adoring wife!

Day Two: Reality sets in. This bed is too short! The nurses don't respond fast enough to my calls! You want me to walk HOW FAR? I'm feeling too much pain! What's this itching all about??? Bring me more benadryl! Now! This fruitcake has RAISINS in it! I told the dietician to NOT send me green peppers -- instead she DOUBLED them! Linda, your yellow roses died today! How much did you spend for them, anyway? Too much! Hand me that emesis basin -- I'm going to be sick! Where's my comb? Don't forget to plug my phone in! I need another pillow! Bed-baths, shmed-baths!

(Now you ALL know I'm exaggerating. Alan will die AND be mad at me when he reads this. He's really not a bad patient at all!)

Day Three: Time to transfer, an hour away, from TOSH to American Fork Hospital. His physician comes in the early morning and bid farewell and assures Alan that AF has a bed for him AND that he will be transported by TOSH to AF. Right. Now I ask you, what do physicians know about hospital FUNCTIONS?? Nothing, it turns out. (Dr. Rose, you'd better get back to your operating suite!) And the coordinator was way off as well. Alan was so anxious to get out of TOSH and on his way to a new adventure that he got up and took his first shower BY HIMSELF! I told him to wait for me -- that I'd scrub all those flakey itchy scales off and double the lotion rub-down, but neeeew, he managed by himself and ended up dry and itchy without me!

No transport to AF. That was a myth. But I had Miss Polly with me and she was anxious to see him anyway, so Alan was fine to go by car. And yes, I exited two exits early AND hit my brakes a couple of times AND had my patient howling, He's not a baby AT ALL -- and he tried SO hard to not "back-seat" me! It's the nurse's fault. She wouldn't give him meds before we left -- it was an hour too soon, she said. The drive was fairly hard on him.

But it was the surprise at AF that was the worst. They had NO bed for him after all! He sat in his wheelchair for over two hours by the elevator waiting for some poor patient to leave. And then for the room to be cleaned. And then to move some poor woman out of HIS room to bunk with another woman (of course) so he could have a place. They should have handed him a harmonica and put a cup on the floor with a sign that said, "Will Play for a Room" They did bring him a lunch tray, however.

The actual room is another private! And another lovely view -- Timpanogos this time. Ah-h-h-h. Unfortunately the TV stations are the same! The nurse call button is in a different place and we kept calling her instead of changing TV stations. By the fourth call she just ignored us.

No TV is okay, we're enjoying our books. But the bed itself? No lenghtier than the last! We "tallies" are used to short sleeves, short pants, short beds, no knee space on planes, and dumb comments on our height ("You're so tall!" Oh, really? Hm-m-m, I've never noticed), and many stares.

CActually, they needed HIS room on that end, I believe. No worries. They give him a lunch tray after all!

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