October 14, 2014

After hysterectomy

I begin to remember some events from the hospital, from under the cloud of mind altering substances.
- Time was slipping by.
- Some people came to see me. I guess I said I was ok. Ok all the time.
- Bumped into two doctors I know in the corridor. I was still under influence and can't remember what I said in response to unsaid questions of "how are you" and "what an earth happened to you".
- Friend of mine brought me flowers and chocolate. I don't remember a word I said to her. 
I hope I said "thank you" at least.
- In the following morning I was asked to sit down on the chair next to my bed. I was in no mood for debate, and said NO. This was infuriating. Not with Foley catheter and that damn pack still in place. Nurse with good intentions and negotiation skills disappeared into thin air. I think I took another dose of MSO4 wishing to sleep.
- Injection of Enoxaparin: by now lesson had been learned and no one engaged into deeper conversation with me. Injection was destined to land in my thigh, not anywhere near abdomen. Because I said so.
- Pain management nurse and her entourage appeared from nowhere later in the morning. A member of entourage asked me what book I was reading, what language was it. Icelandic dude.
- The very best moment was when I went home. I can't remember how I got in to my friend's car (walked, yes, I think I did) and how we got back to my house, but we made it in one piece.

Piece of cake, I think now, because time has passed and memories fade. It was not easy, fun, comfortable. It was bearable, because of painkillers. They kept coming, I did not have to ask. Two days in hospital was not bad, and I spent the first day laying in bed anyway in various states of consciousness. Not something I want to repeat any time soon. Life as patient in hospital is not life. It's a miserable existence

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