About every twenty seconds, they fill up and squeeze my calves and ankles. They are to get blood and fluid moving. Normally, moving around keeps everything from pooling in my legs and feet. Well, I haven't been on my feet, or had any use for my legs at all. My feet are super fat, and I look like a hobbit. Happily, I don't have as much hair, I'm tall, I'm not very jolly right now, and I don't wear jewelry. Other than that, I look like a hobbit.
Even if I needed shoes, I wouldn't be able to wear them; not my shoes. I have some socks with gripped ridges on the bottom, just in case I ever stand up in here. I think I will be walking around in a couple of days. I just need my strength, balance, and sense of direction to get back to normal. All of the other patients have socks on, too. Out of curiosity and noticing odd things, I ask one of the nurses why all of the socks are different colors. There are brown socks, some are yellow, and a few are red.
The brown means your stable enough to stand on your own without much worry. The yellow means that there is a chance you will fall while trying to get around. The RED means, if this guy stands up, be ready to catch him on his ride to the floor. That's ok. I didn't like the yellow or brown ones, and RED looks good on me
Now, I'm lookin' good.
I have my fabulous, high fashion socks in fire-engine red. They complement my new emo ankle bracelet, and my soccer player, shin guard, knee high knickers. As your eyes scan upward, you can see some of the large purple and yellow bruises on my thighs. If you're real lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of sac with a wine cork balancing on top of it.
I keep moving upward perusing over my latest hospital formal gown. It looks like there is a basketball underneath it, along with the little spot where my bellow button used to be. This sexy appendage will make you want to ask me if I know the gender or if its going to be a surprise. Mash that button, and the mouth says a curse word.
Slowly move upward and catch a glimpse of my skeletal fingers that look like they belong on the witch in Looney Tunes cartoons. He, he, he, he. Next, is my bracelet. I know this because my name and birthday are on it. (Damn. That was on the quiz.)
The blood red plastic tubes that match my socks, are accessorized by sparkly silver needles that twinkle in the post modern florescent light. And next, a beautiful purple and yellow bruise that looks like someone fired the fat side of an LSU football at me. This flows up to my neckline where you will find multicolored wires protruding from what seem to be six icy cold nipples running along my ribs and faux-pectorals.
A nine day growth of neck hair precedes my Skeletor face, topped with the shiny tumbleweed of hair that looks better in Gary Busey's mug shot. Snap on a bull ring, and put some jumper cables on my skull, and I'm ready to go.
After all of this, I still think the nurse could be interested in me. Weird.
They tell me that they are going to tap by abdomen tomorrow to alleviate the ascites. I'm not lying when I say that ascites is of Greek origin, and it means sack. That is no sack. The massive excess of fluid is so voluminous I'm having difficulty breathing. My diaphragm simply can't make any room for my lungs to fill with air. They want to rapidly extract almost all of the extra juices. hey are going to "tap" my abdomen, a method called paracentesis. I don't know if I want them to tap my belly, and they say I will be awake for it.