-- by Randy
Last night I left as we were waiting for the doctors to come by on rounds. It was getting later and I had heard that the Transplant teams were pretty busy this weekend. There do seem to be a lot of patients on the floor. It looked like Holly was in for a rough night. During the day she was making visible progress. At that point I think there was some attempt to adjust her pain management. I assumed that when she was seen by a doctor that she would get a better setup. When I left she was not comfortable.
That being said imagine my surprise when as I walked into the room Holly was walking toward me on the way to the bathroom. There was a doctor there and he said that about eight last night they adjusted her pain medication. The nurse came in a little later and asked why Holly didn't have her I.V. in. Holly said she accidentally pulled it out when ( wait for it...) she was taking a shower.
So the I.V. will be returned but Holly is free of most other tubes which have brought to light some minor non-surgical issues. Mostly though she is way more herself and participating in her recovery.
-------Holly, later-------
I woke up this morning and whiled away a few hours before getting a "breakfast" of clear liquids. Broth, Jello, water, apple juice. It may not sound like much to anyone on a regular diet, but to someone who hadn't eaten since 11 p.m. Wednesday, the juice and a little Jello were a lifesaver.
I napped for a while and then woke up before my surgeon stopped by. She was on her own so sat down to chat. She saw my stomach tube wasn't working well so she took it apart, flushed it and got it going again. The tube's used to draw out excess fluids, so I don't get nauseated. It's also used to administer some meds. "I'll leave it on 'intermittent' -- don't want the nurses to get mad at me!" she said.
After she left, I thought "Man, it would feel good to have a shower, and it would be nice to get one before Randy arrives."
So did I call a nurse? Did I take the extra four steps past the bathroom door to poke my head out the door and ask someone to send my nurse's aide along? Did I even wait for Randy to help me?
No, of course not. With my newfound knowledge of how to uncouple my stomach tube, I undid that. I took the oxygen loop off my head and hung it on the bed rail. I removed the catheter collection bag from the lower rail and hung it on my IV pole. Then, except for the IV pole, I was free! And that pole has five wheels for a reason, right?
After nearly 3 days in bed, it felt like the Great Escape.
Once I got to the bathroom I was a little surprised to find that my stomach tube had been clipped to the front of my gown, mainly to ease the weight of the tube inside my nose. Ouch! But I'd committed myself this far, and I was, of course, hardheaded enough to keep going.
With the IV and catheter tubes leading out of the shower, there was no good way to close the curtain, and for quite a while I thought the flood on the bathroom floor was my biggest problem.
As I used the handheld spray (couldn't figure out how to mount it up on the wall) the IV in the back of my right hand hurt more than my nose as it got pulled and bumped. However, I got done and did an extra rinse of my hair. The IV gave me one last pang and I looked down at it. . . there was a good reason for that. It had pulled completely out and there was blood slowly going splot, splot, splot on the floor.
I pulled the "emergency call" cord. Apparently what happens is the first person in the hall who sees it runs in. My rescuer was a middle-aged, practical woman with a sense of humor. She started cleaning off my hand and pressing the vein to stop the bleeding. (A valiant attempt, given that I'd been getting heparin blood-thinning shots since the operation.)
Hard on her heels came my nurse's aide, a 20-year-old kid named Denny. Denny stood on the other side of the threshold, taking in the tableau of me in the altogether, the IV pole, and the aide on her knees in front of me applying pressure bandages to my hand. However, he was taken by another aspect of the drama.
"There's blood all over!" he exclaimed. "There's blood everywhere!" He appeared ready to stand there and enlarge on this theme, except the nurse cut him short. "Denny! Get me some towels!"
There was certainly water everywhere, and every time a drop of blood landed in it, it spread quickly. The nurse was intent on cleaning every bit of blood off my arm and me, although I assured her it didn't bother me. After all, it was my blood.
"It'll bother somebody here," she said wryly. "You can depend on that."
So, she was still mopping at the blood when Denny returned with an armload of towels, washcloths, blankets and robes. They were mainly deployed on the floor, with a few left over for me.
Once his arms were emptied, Denny again had the opportunity to opine on the situation.
"There's blood all over!" he announced. "There's blood everywhere!"
Later, one of my fave nurses, who'd somehow missed all the excitement and the blood, looked at me agape when we told her the story. "You're the second patient today to do that!" she said.
Well, I was clean, I'd finally done something that qualified as "physical" and I had a (probably misplaced) feeling of accomplishment. Things were definitely getting better.
