Indignity #27

Actually, I guess much of life is made up of indignities, or maybe that's just mine.

You know, I pretty much feel as though I’ve shed most of my vanity, modesty, etc. Then every so often another piece of it sloughs right off me.

I’ve had great nurses and techs so there was bound to come a time when I didn’t completely feel that way. Yesterday was once of those days on a number of different levels. By the end of the day I was getting grumpy. I ordered dinner. I’ve been having salads but that didn’t sound good to me. I ordered a chicken salad sandwich on rye, with pickles, and because I was grumpy, a brownie too. I love chicken salad but it was not a stellar version and the pickles appear to have been ‘house made’ less than successfully. I ate it anyway as I was hungry. Then I ate the truly lousy brownie, because why let the quality of the thing stop me?

That made me irritated with myelf and then my stomach roiled a bit so I hit the damn call light again. My least favorite nurse came in and helped me up to the commode. Then she looked at my bed and asked me if I knew how to adjust the bed. When I said I did she shook her head at my sorry choice of bed arrangeent. As I sat there on the commode I said, “I might be a minute,” which is obviously code for “don’t stand there staring at me, I need a bit of privacy.” She just stood there, looking at me and said, ‘ok.’ Sigh. So I finished to the best of my ability and she helped me back into bed. She asked me if I wanted her to put the head of the bed up (as she had flattened it all out) and I said, ‘NO, I can do it.” Then she walked over to the commode, looked in, and said, “Oh, you did a little bowel movement. It’s so little I don’t know what to call it.” I just looked at her.

Later, through some kind of miscommunication I ended up with a much stronger painkiller than I had been getting. Still not sure what happened but at least I figured it would help me sleep. No go. And I’m guessing the night tech was newish as she couldn’t seem to get the blood pressure cuff on my arm. I suggested using the smaller cuff that others had been using successfully but she declined. I’ve been here five days, LISTEN TO ME. When she couldn’t seem to get the damn cuff I almost shook it off my arm. I don’t like it when I’m not nice. I tried to be nicer later. Eventually I fell asleep close to 4 am.

Ok, so that my evening of indignity. Later I had to go to to the bathroom once more but I waited until that nurse’s shift was over so she wouldn’t criticize my poop again.

UPDATE: I just spoke to the surgeon. Current tentative plan is surgery on Friday but I may get bumped as it’s a different doctor’s OR time. Also, ‘the team’ all agreed that I am high risk because of my weight but given the urgency of the situation he will go ahead and do two of the three discs in question, the two most serious. This will allow him to go in the front of my throat (ugh) which will be an easier recovery and therefore less risk. There’s enough going on with my back that this isn’t probably going to be one time thing anyway. Lovely. You know, my nighttime nurse, who I liked, chatted to me as she helped me to the commode (I know I talk about it a lot but it’s all I do in here, folks) and said she’d looked at my test results. “Wow, you have a lot going on in your back.” Honestly, I just felt so grateful to hear that. I have felt people doubt me and hell, I’ve doubted myself, so that has been one odd little silver lining.

Onward.

Love,
Cynthia

Oh, and look what Boo sent me. A forty year old picture of me drinking wine on the porch of 306 W. Columbia. Plus ça change…the more things change…