Seeing as how my posting is forced to slow down for the summer, I think it best to move a little quicker on the story (if I can manage that). Namely, it’s time for me (in the story) to leave the hospital. I’ve been lingering there for quite a long time now!
My last day in the hospital:… I was able to sleep on my side once or twice, though I winced around wanting to whimper cause I couldn’t get comfy. Finally I got up for water and a pain pill. The super nice nurse, the night nurse, with the dyed blonde hair always falling out form being tied up, was here. She gave me pain med and offered to give me some padding on my left side so that it is un-noticeable until I get the fake-o. (prosthesis is far too serious a word for anything I might buy or consider it to be). I say to her there is not much to notice and besides, I don’t really give a shit if it’s noticeable. Well, since I am small it’s not such a big deal. She mentioned the reconstruction somehow (I guess that I said I view this as so temporary), saying that some women get it done at 70 years old b/c it doesn’t feel right. I said for me I don’t care how it looks, but I need it for “Closure”. The word upon which I got trembly voiced and wet eyed. And it’s true. Closure is the thing I cannot wait for. But it is a long way off, unfortunately.
The last morning, in the bed – sore and tired – I felt a hint of depression, slight, at the idea of going home. I am happy about going home. So happy, and it’s a goal reached. But still, it also means away from this place of relative comfort, surrounded by people who are either just like me, or are here to care for my every need with kindness. A place full of light and served meals and medicine and routine checks that everything with me looks a-okay, and no other expectation of me other than to lie here in my pretty jammies…Back to del’s, where I love, but will at times find myself alone (though also very needed!) and dark and hot with no one to run my little “get me water please” and “ help me bathe” errands… the change in environment is slightly fatiguing and depressing, even though anticipated. Again, it’s that “deer in the headlights” thing in me, that wants to freeze right where I am, right in a moment and place where I am familiar and safe.
… and last of all, WHOO-HOO! The lady doc came, gave me paperwork and said everything looks good. The nice male nurse changed my bandage and (TA-DA!) removed one of my tubes! The one they normally leave in longer. I just haven’t been draining much. (Lady doctor said that, strangely, even in surgery I barely bled.) The tube that remains is more cumbersome on its long lead, but I don’t have to clean it myself so that’s cool. It hurt when the blue tube came out. He cut the wire (ouch! but in the way that scrapes a satisfying itch) and then pulled the tube gently down the inside of my skin from under my armpit (where it’s been poking, poking, poking…along with the red one, though I think not as badly the blue) all the way down to the hole and out. Yes! Yes! Yes! It was weird in the grossest way and yeah it hurt. But it also hit that itch. Smothered a long-term, low-grade irritation. Terrible but veeery satisfying. And oh I feel great. I didn’t think having it out would be THIS great. Life isn’t smooth, but it sure looks just one shade better all the sudden. I cannot WAIT to have the other one out though.
Checking out of the hospital on mom’s birthday. I think she would have approved of that for a fitting celebration…
(Italics indicate journal excerpts.)