Wednesday, April 18, 2012

9- Not As a Button

When is the last time I showered?   I didn't shower after work Monday night/Tuesday morning.  I don't know if they washed me while I was having my emergency room cat nap.  That means I still have the bar on me.  I feel verminous and soiled. I get spot cleaned between my knees and my navel on a regular basis out of necessity. 

My bowels are moving , and  they're not calling to borrow the creeper. I have no say in this matter.  The catheter helps. At least I'm not lying in what looks like a bag of hot, three month old, draft beer. 

My face is as oily as a 14 year old boy, and I had already skipped a couple of haircuts before this went down.  I am just fine without seeing a mirror.  The reflection of a frail, shaking, pregnant zombie would not bring a morale boost.  I have no muscle left, and I'm gonna need a word stronger than 'weak' to describe myself.
Be that as it is, I am alive.

I need an interpreter, but even my brother can't tell what I'm saying.  I can't focus on the task at hand, and there seems to be a lack of communication between my brain and my mouth.  This is not serving me well right now because the rep from medicaid is here.  She needs to sit in front of me, point a few things out, and get some initials and signatures out of me. 

The government never fails to make paperwork or waiting periods.  They sure do pay attention to deadlines, though.  Specifically, deadlines that we have to adhere to, not them.  So, we need to get this done ASAHAP, as soon as half ass possible.  Thankfully, Tim and Julie are there to help me decipher the whole situation. 

If there is more than one thing going on at the same time, I'm done for.  Unless I'm mistaken, I believe I attempted to fill some of it out, and we just resorted to my signatures instead.  At one point, I tried to write my name and it came out on a lower corner incline with some numbers mixed in with it.  I think my noodle is overcooked.

The nurses are in cahoots and super sneaky.  They hit me with another pop quiz on the date, but I have a trick up my sleeve.  They catch me looking over their shoulders at the dry erase board.  I read the date, but they tell me I've cheated, and we move on to something else.  Just a couple of minutes later, a nurse comes out of nowhere and asks me the date again.
"Come on.  I just told you."
"Tell me again", she says.
"November 4th?"

It has to at least be November 3rd this time.  Wrong again.  Its still October, and its time to try to eat.  I thought breakfast was coming, but its lunch.  No matter. Besides, I've developed a ravenous appetite for fruit, especially peaches.  I appear ungrateful when anyone brings me a fruit cup with melon in it.  Apparently, I heard somewhere that it was tainted.  With all the things going on with me I remember  "don't eat the melon."  Go figure.

The concept of getting rest in a hospital never seems to work out.  Every two hours, no matter what, they have to check my vitals.  It doesn't take long and it is important.  Honestly, I'm still a stones throw away from the reaper. They check my blood pressure and pulse, temperature, and listen to my lungs and heart.  I still haven't figured out the contraption on my finger. 

I thought it was to check my pulse, but the blood pressure collar does that.  The little bugger can check how much oxygen I'm absorbing.  Ninety four percent.  Is that good?   But the time in between those two hours is what really keeps you awake.  There is always someone taking blood, changing the urine bag, or just about anything in general that doesn't involve sleeping.

Whenever, I drop something on the floor, its like taking candy from a baby.  If I drop my pillow, phone, or the television remote I can't reach it. And the remote is hooked to the wall, but I still manage to lose it. I can barely lift my shoulders off the mattress, much less, reach waaaay down there on the floor.  To add to my weakness, I feel like I have 50 pounds of blankets on me.  I argue with these a lot when I try to move, but I won't let the nurses take any away from me.  My hands are like ice, but I still cover my nose with them to try to warm tat up.  This hospital isn't nippy, its downright wintry.

Before I lay my head down, I have to take my meds.  There are about 12 pills, one liquid(lactulose) that's like nitrous oxide for your colon, prenatal supplements, 3 diuretics, oxycodone, attivan, niacin, thiamine, b-complex, nexium, and a laundry list of stuff for the detox.  Good thing I have about 3 swallows of water left. 

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