Privacy? Yeah, sure.

When in the hospital you will have so many different people walking through your door wanting to poke and prod and just look at your various crevices and orifices.  For the most part, this is legit, though sometimes you have to wonder.  For example, if one person took my blood pressure 2 minutes ago, and they’re still in the room, why can’t you just use their numbers and leave the patient alone?  I’m sure they’re told to do it anyway, so they can check off their checklist that they did indeed check the patient’s blood pressure, but there has to be a better way.

That’s not extreme, but you can forget about privacy… or modesty.  Maybe that’s the real loss here, your modesty.  I mean, you try to maintain some sense of dignity, but there comes a point where you feel like you want to throw your clothes off and yell, “Ok, here!  Look at me!”  Not that you seriously consider that, of course, but the thought does enter your mind.

Example:  On my last full day the nurse’s aid comes in and asks if I’d like a “bath”.  A “wipe bath” with sanitary baby wipes, it’s easier with less clean-up than sponges.  Anyway, She seems surprised that I had had none since the morning before my surgery at home.  I was never asked.  <shrug>

I’m sensing maybe I should, and I was feeling a bit ripe, so we go for it.  Missy and Vicki were visiting at the time.  They left at my request, I still had that much say in who sees what.  The nurse’s aid is a 22 year old who normally doesn’t work this floor, normally she’s in a rehab wing.  This was the second day (not in a row) that she was my aid, and we had built up something of a casual rapport.

So, Missy and Vicki leave.  The aid pulls the curtain closed in case someone else walks in.  It’s just us.  She starts on the legs with the sanitary wipes and works up to the neck, then back down the other side.  Then, *sigh*, the “fun” part.  She needs to do the more intimate regions.  We both are a bit hesitant, I am actually her first “sanitary wipe bath”.  I’m here to help.

We both figuratively heave a sigh of resignation, and the sheet and gown are whipped off leaving me in all my glory.  I’m embarrassed, but not as bad as I normally would have been were I not gradually eased into a lack of modesty the preceding week.  She does the outer regions, and the only part left is… you know.  She hesitates, I sense she is really uncomfortable, but breathes another sigh of resignation and dives in.  I am now clean all over.

We finish up, I cover myself, and all is good.  We’re both relieved it’s over.  She might be scarred for life, not sure.  Our banter was not quite the same for most of the rest of the day, it had an awkwardness that we were both dealing with, though we both lightened up later on.

To top it off, when Missy and Vicki come back, the aid is still there having just finished, and Vicki says somewhat loudly, “Did she get your ‘junk’?”

Oh, the aid blushed.  If she wasn’t scarred by the procedure, she had to have been now.  I, on the other hand, was speechless.  I didn’t know whether to say something serious or sarcastically funny.  I said nothing, just sat there.  There are very few people that can make me speechless, but my sister is good at it, and succeeds more than most.

Many women,especially women who have given birth multiple times, tell me that you just give up trying to stay modest at some point.  I can kind of understand that now.  You develop an attitude of, “Here, just get it done.”

Stunted by Emotions

Ken asked me to contribute to this blog.  I wanted to a few times.  I would start, stop, start again.  I could not find the words to describe how I was feeling and dealing with everything.  I have decided to just lay it out and hope you can understand it all.  I will start with my emotions leading up to the angioplasty and then what I felt after that.

As Ken explained, the nurse from the cardiologist’s office was trying hard to reach us. When he found out what was going on he called me and told me we were going to need to go in for the angioplasty.  He explained why and what that was.  I was sitting in the waiting room at the eye doctors waiting for his mom to be done with her appointment.  All I could think of was that I didn’t want to lose it there.  Then he asked me to talk to his mom about it.  “Sigh!”  Hold it together even longer.  I can do this!

The day of the angioplasty comes.  I was prepared to sit and do some work on my computer while they worked on him.  I barely got set up and the nurse was coming for me.  She took me to a little room with a computer in it.  I was not sure what was going on, but I knew in my gut that it wasn’t good.  The doctor came in and went to the computer to show me the pictures of Ken’s heart.  He told me that they found many blockages and that there was no way a stent would do it.  I was stunned.  He informed me that it was from years of diabetes issues.  However, the working part of his heart was strong.  At least one thing was good!

Once I was away from the doctor the anxiety set in.  I paced and started to feel out of breath.  I knew I needed help to not have an anxiety attack.  I called my mom.  She is always my rock and I needed her on the prayer chain.  She calmed me and was very helpful.  One more call to a friend to fill the rest of the time before they came to get me and I was calm when I got in the room with Ken.

This is where we learned of the waiting game that would become our lives.  I didn’t know what that meant at that moment, but I soon found out it meant anxiety, stress, and headaches.  We are almost there and I, for one, can’t wait!

Missy 😊

How did I get here?, Part 2… The Angioplasty

Actually, the nurse was trying frantically to call me late Friday afternoon.  And I’m the kind of person that rarely hears their phone, and I was driving anyway, so I missed the call.  They also called Missy, and she missed it, but she did hear the voice mail.  After an hour of phone tag we settled in with the notion that I would call Monday morning.

I finally get a hold of the nurse on Monday morning, and she’s kind of upset.  Says it’s urgent that I go in for an angioplasty as soon as possible.  She told me what was up, but most of it I didn’t catch.  I knew they wanted to possibly… probably… put in a stent.  We schedule for that Thursday.  I arrange to take the day off as I’m told the whole process will take about five-ish hours.

No eating after midnight the night before.  Only clear liquids… which includes coffee, soda, tea, etc., caffeine was ok this time, who knew?… only up until three hours prior to the procedure, which was scheduled for 1030 am.

We get to the hospital and sign in.  It was as if everyone was expecting me.  haha  I get a room and nurse… I’m going to call everyone except the doctors a nurse as I have no idea which ones were and which ones weren’t… and am told to undress to a certain point and put a gown on.  And let me say that hospital gowns have not changed for at least the last 50 years.  Anyway, eventually a second nurse comes in, who I believe was my primary nurse, and they poke and prod and hook stuff up and get all kinds of vital signs.  Everyone is super friendly, and professional at the same time.

Come time for the procedure they wheel my, still in my bed, out into the hall and down the hallway, around a couple corners, and into a room that looks like a surgery room.  It’s very sterile looking, but also very large and has an enormous set of equipment.  I have an IV in my left arm that was put there in my room.  The nurses… I must have seen a dozen different nurses that day, except for a couple they all seemed to have a single purpose… are all doing various prep-type things to get ready for the procedure.

Time for the procedure comes, and I had been paying attention to my surroundings and all the bustle up until then, and one of the nurses tells me they’re going to inject the anesthesia into my IV now.  I say, “Ok.”, and off we go.

And I mean “off we go” very literally.  This is the same kind of anesthesia that they use for procedures like colonoscopies.  You’re ‘out’, but not out cold.  It’s kind of hard to explain.  Anyway, I say “Ok.”, and they keep bustling around, and my mind wanders a bit.  I think I’m still with it.  Before long I’m no longer aware of my surroundings, though I think I am.  They did tell me when they were going to insert the tube into my artery in my right wrist, I do remember that.

As a side note they go through the wrist now, preferably the right, instead of the groin, though the groin is sort of a ‘Plan B’, if necessary.  And it strikes me as odd that they have to go through an artery, though maybe that’s the only place big enough for the tube, I don’t know.

So there I am with my mind wandering… and wandering… and wandering… thinking I’m aware… and wandering… when they suddenly get my attention.

To be continued.