… So I woke up from the surgery and because an epidural had been administered, I could not feel my legs. It was the strangest feeling. It was both numb ad painful. Felt like a thousand ants crawling but I got no relief even if I tried to move my legs ever so slightly since I was still somewhat paralyzed from the medication and very much drowsy from the anaesthesia. Kept waking and falling right back to sleep.
I later informed a nurse that I was in pain. Big mistake! She came over and before I had time to figure out what was about to happen, she stabbed me in the arm with a needle. I swear she took pleasure from doing it. I then passed out again.
Finally I was wheeled up to the Surgical floor where I stayed for the next two nights. Most of the nurses were absolutely amazing and caring. Some were even funny but two in particular had no business being nurses. You could tell they were just there for the money. One, an older lady was probably just tired and jaded after many years of service. She was uncaring and dismissive. When I said that I was in pain and requested medication, she would reply that pain is to be expected.
Duh lady! I know that. Which is why I’m asking you for the medication. What, you think that I’m going to go through this recovery without it just because you claim that pain is to be expected. Well in that case expect that I’m going to be asking you for medication. So shut your mouth, keep your judgement to yourself and give me the bloody meds.
I’m sorry but people who work in the medical feel and have a lack of sympathy for patients that are not only in pain but where just hours ago cut open on a surgical table, well it’s just unacceptable for them to have chosen such a profession. They’d be better suited to be a corrections officer in a prison or something.
Anyway, the other nurse was a younger lady. Seemed like she was fresh out of school. Every time I spoke to her, she’d skin up her face like she was smelling rotten eggs. My family would see her in the hallway and say that is how her face remained. Seemed like she took no joy in her profession either. Sad, because at the end of the day it is the patient who suffers.
Anyway, so when I was wheeled up to my room, my very supportive mother was there to greet me. She said that I looked pretty in shape and in high spirits compared to some other people she had seen wheel in who appeared to be just completely out of it.
When I saw her I was all smiles and giggles. I opened my arms and reached out to her in the same way my kids would reach out to me. In all my pain, I was in a joking kind of mood.
I was fortunate that the first night I had the room to myself. Got a room ate the following day but that’s OK. That first night I got no sleep. For whatever reason that horrible older nurse had decided to leave my room door open all night. Not only were the bright lights from the hallway pouring in, but I heard all the comings and goings of the staff moving through the isle making it impossible to get a good night sleep. Funny thing but that nurse finally got just a tad bit nicer when my roommate, and older lady was assigned to my room. She was thoughtful enough to have left the door closed that night and I slept like a baby. I mean, she came in every two hours to check our vitals and give us our medications and all. I’d have to go to the washroom too which was a huge task in itself, but when she exited the room and closed the door behind her, I-was-out! Slept so deeply I forgot where I was. Usually when I sleep I’d move even in the slightest but I must have been seriously high on morpheme because I did not move an inch. The following day, my last day I slept soundly too. Seems my body needed the rest. It is in those sleeping moments that one is able to heal.
OK guys, got run. My little one just woke up and is calling out to me.
Part Three coming soon!