The closet sized room from hell

Thank you all for all the prayers!

I have to take this moment to thank everyone who has been praying for me, for without your prayers, I am sure I would not be here today. I praised God the other day for making this surgery work out so well, even though there were stumbling blocks all along our way, I could see his hand working around the mess. I know now, with every fiber of my being that Satan himself was working against me, doing his best to take control of this situation and make it his own. At one point in the hospital, I felt like Job, being tested, and hearing God say, “Do not kill her.” I saw your prayers answered, this week my friends. I saaw what you have done for me with your prayers and your faith in Jesus and I saw God answer those prayers.

Let me start with where we left off last time. Packing to go to Houston for this surgery, to block the AVM in my pelvis....

That was Monday. ( I think, bear with me, it has been a long week and I am drugged). The plan was to leave after Jason got off work Tuesday., drive to Houston and stay in a hotel, get up, to be at the hospital early on Wed. morning. We had problem after problem, but I watched God open every door before us. By Tuesday evening, it was clear that we would not make it to Houston that night. I cancelled our reservations, (with NO penalty fees!) and we prapared to leave early the next morning, as in 3 in the morning. We over slept, didn't get out of the house until 5, but they called and told me I didn't need to be there until 10, and my surgery would begin at noon. We were there at 8, got everything done that we needed too and at the last moment there was an emergency that took the anisthiologist away for a while. We were told to “Hang tight” it was going to happen. It was 4 P.M. Before they took me back for the surgery, but everything went well. In fact, it went so well that they discovered I didn't have an AVM, I just had a “VM” (that is, it wasn't an artieral thing, it was just a vein thing, and not nearly as dangerous as they had feared.... God again? I think so!)

Next step, the RECOVERY ROOM. The nurses were awesome, RN's, all of them, I was assigned a nurse, who sat with me while I “recovered”. After which, I was to be moved to “my room”. I had been assured that I had a room and that there would be a couch in there for my husband to sleep on. I got into the recovery room at 6, by 8, I was coherent and ready to be moved. THIS IS WHERE SATAN STARTED.

My nurse was told that the department I was to be moved to had a nurse call in sick and so they would not be taking any patients that night. She was told, in a very clear understanding that I would be spending the night in the recovery room because they were ONE nurse short. I laughed, silly reason right? There was no way I could stay in that surgical bed all night, there was nowhere for Jason to SIT much less lay down and get some rest. I just knew this would be fixed. My nurse called and talked to the head nurse of the department I was to be moved too, told her that they were not set up to keep a patient over night. It didn't matter, was the response. They were not to be expected to deal with one more patient when they were so short handed (again, ONE nurse short). I lay there, on my back, amused by this turn of events. Still sure, this would quickly be resolved. HA, and again, HA. I finally talked them into letting Jason back there with me, but there was no room for a chair for him to sit in. We finally decided that he would have to leave and go get a hotel and come back in the morning. He was assured that I would be there for 23 hours, and that the earliest I would be released would be noon. By 10 O'clock I was believing that that crazy nurse would not be getting me a room, my husband was gone to a hotel and sleeping, I had to pee, I hurt, and I had heard the lady in the next curtain over being told for 4 hours that they were cleaning her room before moving her. I had had enough. I started crying, screaming (I know, not very Christian like but, hey, look at where I was here! All alone 3 and ½ hours away from home and told not to move my leg or my back!) I screamed that they had been cleaning that poor woman's room for 4 hours, I can clean clean my entire house in less than four hours, and that's after the grandbabies had stayed! I texted my niece Toni, all I wanted at that point was to talk to my sister, I could only think that if Cyndi were here with me, she would march down to that wing I was supposed to be in and whip someone's behind! She woulda too, if you know her, you are nodding your head in agreement. BUT, Cyndi was not near a phone, she was out with a friend and couldn't be reached.I have never felt more alone than I did that night. I cried, like a baby, I cried for my sister. After shift change, the new nurse of the recovery unit begain talking to the new nurse of the unit I was supposed to be in. They finally agreed to move me to “my” room. It was almost midnight before I got there. “There” being the room from hell. My room was the size of a closet. Litereally, a SMALL closet. Close to the size of Bertie's cage! Seriously, NOT exagerating here, there was a small chair in the room when they wheeled me to it, they had to take the chair out of the room to get the bed into it. My bathroom, was shared with the “room” next door. I had to pee on a potty that someone else who was IN THE HOSPITAL was using. WHO KNOWS WHAT KIND OF GERMS ARE LURKING IN ANY HOSPITAL, MUCH LESS HAVING TO SHARE A TOILET WITH SOMEONE! Grrr. Not the worst of it however, yes, it does get worse....

My blood pressure was 76/52, I told the nurse, I need to go pee. She said, “Okay, if you have any problems, let me know.” Now, if you are not faimlure with blood pressures that is LOW and I was already dizzy from that combined with the medications, not to fear though, I was able to sit on the side of the bed in the closet sized room from hell and grasp the handle of the communal bathroom. I got myself in there, I got myself back. And, yes, it still gets worse....

This morning, I woke up hungry, asked if they could get me something to eat, I was thrown a menu, told to call some 8 or 9 digit number and order what I wanted. I got yelled at for asking for the number again, and finally got a person on the phone. I asked for a cup of coffee and was told that that was not enough. So I asked for 2 cups of coffee. Again, still not enough. So I asked for a cinimon roll. I got my coffee. And still, it gets worse.....

At 7:30 I was told that I would be released at 8. I had no phone signal in the closet sized room from hell, unless I haeld the phone at an 86 degree angle toward what I thought was an outside wall (no window in the closet sized room from hell ) and I could get 1 bar. Thank you AT&T. Texted a niece with the phone number to the closet sized room from hell and asked her to call me. Thank you Julie. She called, we finally got Jason up and headed over.... and, you guessed it, it gets worse....

I spilled a cup of water while a nurse was taking my blood pressure and got myself soaked, the bed soaked and some on the floor. She says, oh, don't worry, I will clean that right up. And proceeds to wipe the water off the floor. When I asked for a dry gown she glared at me, and threw one on my lap, I hated asking for a towel to put on the bed, but, hey, why not....and yet, is can STILL get worse.....

The RN comes in, and says she is going to remove the IV's from my hands (yes, I had 2, one for each hand) She pulls one out, puts a bandaid on it and gets the second half way out when I ask for a towel to catch the blood squirting across the room for the first IV. She says, sure, hands me a towel and says she is going to get another bandaid. TWO HOURS LATER, I press the call button, and ask if maybe, perhaps, she had forgotten something..... and, you know it, it CAN and DOES get worse than that!

While waiting the 2 hours for that bandaide, a lady slips into my room and introduces herself as the patient advocate or something like that. She asks how my stay was and was everything as wonderful as I had hoped.... Yes, you guys KNOW I told her exactly how horrible this stay was in the closet sized room from hell. And she said...... wait for it..... “It's a hospital, honey, not a hotel, suck it up and deal with it.” then she proceeded to leave the room while I layed in that wet bed, with blood leaking down my hand with my jaw on my chest. Yes, she did just say that, didn't she??? And if you think, that would be all of this story, don't worry, we are not finished yet.....

We are told to go to the hospital pharmacy to get my script for pain meds. They assure us that they have faxed the script over and by the time we get there, it will be ready and waiting for us. It's not exactly IN the hospital, but it is THEIR pharmacy, they call it.... Walgreens. Here is a map for you to find it.:

Now, after finally finding Starbucks, we Jason stops the truck, parks and walks around looking for Walgreens.... no such luck. We drive around some more, still no Walgreens. We stop and park again in a no parking zone, find someone who directs Jason to it, INSIDE ANOTHER HOSPITAL.... He goes in, and they have NO RECORD and NO FAX for my script..... He calls the store we use at home and they tell us that,yes, the will be glad to fill it for us.... We high tail it out of Houston, and homeward.I cried on and off all the way home. Upset about this, promising myself that I will write a very stern letter to them and request a detailed, itemized bill. I really wanna know what that closet sized room from hell cost me for 6 hours....It took until now for me to realize that without all the prayers covering me the last few months that I may not have survived this Satan trip. I want to thank each and every one of you. I am relieved it is over, and look forward to my return trip in a month for post-op (NOT!). Just happy I made it home finally!

* Please excuse the speling and call it like it is, drugged....