Ignorance is bliss…… me
during this entire ordeal
I should have known and packed a bigger bag. Never crossed my mind I would be there for
more than one night. Come to think of
it, it never crossed my mind it was a serious as it was. Pia hurt like hell and
I knew there was an infection, but had no clue it was bad. However, it apparently crossed other people’s
minds. As I said, ignorance is bliss and
it has done me well these past months.
That
does sound strange, but one thing I have learned is what I don’t know is
probably a good thing. Way back when I
was told cancer—I knew all would be fine.
Never crossed my mind it would be anything other than fine—just a bump
in my road of life, but fine. Never even
thought about what Stage cancer it would be, so I was a wee bit surprised to
hear Stage 3—those pesky lymph nodes.
When Dr K kept saying “my job is to keep you safe”, it never crossed my
mind I wasn’t safe. All I knew was my
numbers dropped and I ended up in the hospital.
When Portia started stinging that night in the ER, it never occurred to
me that dang thing was in my heart. See
the pattern?! So when Pia turned red and angry, it never crossed my mind it
could be anything other than a bothersome infection. And when Dr Lynn said she would operate and
open the wound, it never crossed my mind there might be a problem. Again, ignorance is bliss.
The
plan, as it were, was, whatever, was to go under around 11am Friday morning and
stay overnight on the 2nd Floor for wound care. I was so excited to get in the pre-op room
early as I was starving and the sooner we started, the sooner we would be
done. Hmmm. I forgot about all those questions. When was the last time you ate or drank
anything? Are you allergic to anything? Etc, etc. I also forgot about the IV. Poor Nurse Patty. I said no hand so she tried the arm and it
did not work (I jumped for some reason) so into the hand it went (not as bad as
it has been, so I was pleasantly surprised).
Luckily the blood stick went smoother.
And then the anesthesiologist came in—I went for deep sedation. And I waited. And waited. Dr Lynn and Michelle came in to say hi and
Michelle took one look at Pia and was like oh my. They left and then all the nurses who stopped
in were concerned Dr Lynn did not mark it.
Finally someone comes back and says “Dr Lynn is not marking it as it is
obvious where it is.” (I refrained from
saying I was thinking the same thing not to mention the thought of adding dumb
a&% to the ending, as I was confident Dr Lynn already had).
The
next thing I know I am in recovery and feeling mighty good. Then I was on my way to my room. Funny, I had given up on my wig—I wore
Scarlett for the attitude, and while I was stopped outside my room for a
moment, I looked in and saw one of my library patrons visiting her sister—I
said hi there and it took her a minute as she knew the voice, but not the hair! Too funny.
Anyway, I was plopped in my room and all was good. I was on Percocet and morphine as needed. I was happy. I was so happy that I was
laughing each time I heard the bed alarm from the guy next door go off. Poor man was not all there and was DETERMINED
to get out of bed. (Side note—I did not
have an alarm as I was not a slip or a flight risk). I was
happy until Dr Lynn came in the next morning and “unpacked” me. It was then I realized this was a wee bit
more serious than I thought. (Of course her saying “this was deeper than I
thought” probably helped too.) Apparently Pia was opened, drained, cleaned out
and was packed—with like 8ft of gauze—then taped up only to be removed 2 times
a day in the hospital. The tape removal
hurt more than anything—and yes, I did play it up a bit—but not much. That crap hurts! Anyway, back to Dr Lynn and
the unpacking. It was like a magic
show—she finally gets the tape off and she pulls and she pulls and she
pulls. I swear she pulled gauze for 2
minutes. She finally says all done and I
am like this is not too bad. Then she
says “let’s pack!” Should have
known. Did I mention I love morphine?!
Yikes! (At this point I think I knew I
was staying until Sunday as the wound was deep).
Long
story short, Saturday night started early with a woman 2 doors down yelling
help me, help me—sounded like a goat, but I was concerned. I let her go on for another minute until I
called my nurse—who did not answer—she was too busy lying on top of this lady
who was trying to escape. (Yes, I was on
the surgery floor, not the mental floor).
Betsy and Erin came in around that time with questioning looks when
she started up again. She continued way
past the time when they left and finally calmed down. By then the Code Red alarm was going off (fire
somewhere) and my temp was at 101. It
was down by the time Dr Lynn did her rounds (another reason she wanted to do
surgery on Friday—she was on call), but I still felt bad and asked if I could
stay one more night. She let me.
I
kind of felt bad for Billy as he spent his weekend at the hospital, but I did
point out it must be a different view.
It was and I think he has a different appreciation of what I tell him is
the “dark side”. He did come to get me
on Monday and while there were grand plans of stopping at a few places, it did
not happen. I was wiped out. And have been that way all week.
Dr
Lynn did let me go back to work and there are a few who think it is crazy. I disagree.
My mental well being is very, very important too. So a few hours a day will not kill me (okay,
I did work 6 hours yesterday and it about killed me. So 4 hours is my limit for a few weeks). I even sent Estell an email giving in yet
again and asking for help. (See, I am
getting the hang of this). Granted it I
thought I would be over and done with this, but my plans are not my own. And
everything happens for a reason, right?
Sometimes I really would like to know why, but then again, half the time
I don’t even think about it. So yes,
ignorance has been bliss.
Ditto!
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