Doing Time

Feeling blah today.

I got up at the usual too early after the usual not enough sleep. I’m still winded from walking across the room.

I tried to watch TV for a bit, but my attention span is about the length of a puppy. I’m spending way too much time lying down instead of trying to walk around.

I had hoped the chemo effects would be wearing off by now and I’d be working on rebuilding my strength. Hoping that process begins soon.

Got a visit from a friend. I remembered he visited me when I was in the hospital, and I even remembered he brought a carrot cake for the nurses on my floor, but I honestly can’t tell you how many times he was there.

The hospital stay was a blur to me. I remember driving myself to the ER early Monday, then having to call out to an orderly on a smoke break to bring me a wheelchair because I wasn’t going to make it on crutches. He wheeled me in, and I went straight back. No one else was around. I was already in the system because I had come in a couple of weeks before because of my knee pain. That’s when I got the crutches.

I remember getting the X-rays while lying on the bed they had put me on. I remember the doctor coming in and giving me the cancer diagnosis. I vaguely remember calling my sister and telling her the bad news.

And after that I remember waking up in the hospital bed, barely able to move, and a week had gone by. I had had surgery and Chemotherapy, but I only found that out after people told me.

I have flashes of events in between, but they’re almost like dreams. I saw coworkers’ faces. I remember trying to make patterns out of the holes in the ceiling panels. I remember looking at the clock and the crucifix next to it. It’s all a hazy blur. It’s the closest I think I’ve been to being comatose.

I’ve heard I would stare and nod at people even though I was clearly out of it. I apologize to any visitors who had to witness it.

It wasn’t until a week into my stay that I think I was able to regrasp reality. The memories start to be less fuzzy. I can tell you who visited and that I was getting shots all the time. I remember turning on the TV to watch Friends and poker just to keep from watching the clock because I couldn’t sleep.

As far as hospital stays go, not being able to remember most of it is an approach I recommend, though there must be an easier way to accomplish that than a cancer diagnosis, a diabetes crisis, a blood clot, pneumonia and a broken femur. Just saying.

Unfortunately, I remember much more of the rehabilitation facility I was sent to after they discharged me from the hospital. I was taken by private ambulance to the facility, and I think the driver didn’t miss a single bump. Plus the facility was near a college that is always busy traffic-wise. It was not a comfortable trip.

They wheeled me in, then slid me over into an uncomfortable old hospital style bed. The one in the hospital was a Rolls Royce compared to the Ford Pinto I was now expected to sleep in.

I lay there about half an hour, wondering whether they even knew I was there, before someone came in to register me. And then I was signing insurance and indemnity forms I barely understood in my condition. And then I was left alone.

At first I had the bed next to the door, which meant I had the lights on and all the corridor noise. I was still not getting much sleep because of my leg pain. And my new roommate (in the hospital  I got were single rooms) had a lot of visitors.

The first night was a horror. I pressed the button for the nurse for a bedpan, only to wait a long time. I was kept awake by the unanswered calls for other nurses in the hallway.

I complained to the nurse, who didn’t apologize. She matter of factly told me the noises were normal and that she had other patients. The end.

In the morning, I asked to speak to someone in charge. I was expected to spend two weeks, maybe three, at the center, and I wasn’t going to be silent. Never mind that it was only one of two facilities the insurance would cover and that alienating the staff on the second day was not a good strategy. I was going to complain.

I complained about the lights, the noise, the long response times, the nurse’s response. I was calmly told there was little they could do. I clearly wasn’t the first to give them these complaints.

For what it was worth, however, I was switched to the bed by the window, which caught less light from the door. It wasn’t much quieter, but it was more private.

And the next time I saw the nurse she was more polite. She explained there was one nurse for 21 patients. I took that to being as close to an apology for the wait times as I was ever going to get.

Things settled into a routine.

6 am - pre breakfast shots
715 - breakfast
10 - the physical therapist would come in and tell me it was time, even though I hadn’t had my pain meds and morning pills.
1001- the therapist goes searching for a nurse to give me my meds.
1030 - I get my meds
11 - Actual physical therapy
1215 pm  - lunch
130 - More therapy (some days)
4 - More shots
515 - dinner
10 - still more shots
10 pm - 6 am: lie awake in an uncomfortable position until exhaustion forces me to pass out.

The wait times for nurses never improved. The alarms kept me up. The food was school cafeteria quality. It was an ordeal. I can’t help but wonder what the other facility was like considering this one had better reviews.

I will say it wasn’t all terrible. The therapy staff was friendly and was doing their best to help us patients despite the conditions. They took time with us, encouraged us on. By the time I left I wasn’t as far along as I had hoped, but I credit the staff for getting me as far as they did.

Finally after two and a half weeks of incarceration ... I mean rehabilitation, I was sent home. Exhausted.

All because of a fall.