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....
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