Free to a Good Home Pt. 6
I woke up in recovery in what felt like only a few minutes later when in fact, it
was actually, three and half hours later. I didn't feel any pain to speak of, but I really had to pee. I couldn't find my voice at first because my throat was so dry. I managed to get the nurses attention to mouth for some water. After a few minutes, I was able to tell the nurse that I desperately needed to pee. She said that was a good sign and told me to wait just a few minutes. She came back with a bed pan and went to place it underneath me. I stopped her and asked if she could me help me to the bathroom instead. She said it was too soon for that and put the bedpan under my butt. Gross. I hadn't had to pee lying down since I don't know when and no desire to fall into that habit that would require a Depends subscription plan. Plus, having a cold metal donut under my ass was seriously uncomfortable and seemed to work in opposition of my bladder to give me any relief.
I was moved back into my room around 9pm and the decision was already made for me to spend the night in the hospital. I wasn't thrilled, but it made sense given the lateness of the hour and how beat I felt. I sent my family and friends home with the promise to pick me up first thing in the morning.
When I woke again, it was 11:30pm and I had to pee so bad I could taste it. My bedpan had been removed at some point so I would have to make my way to the bathroom. However, I couldn't stand on my own because of there were two giant burritos where my legs used to be. I was wearing these compression stocking thingys on my legs.
They looked like some new age torture instruments wrapped around my clave muscles and were plugged into a surge protector at the end of my bed. They squeezed the shit out of my calves every 10 seconds in an attempt to either make feet bigger or my bladder explode.
So, I called for the nurse. A little asian lady with a name I couldn't pronounce came in and asked what I needed. I told her I really had to go and she helped me unwrap my legs and walk, very slowly, with my rolling IV and my ass hanging out, to the bathroom. I had to let her set up some contraption inside the bowl to catch and measure the amount of urine I'd pass. She left me to do my business and I went about it. The relief I felt was unparalleled and it ended up being a marathon pee. Seriously, I think it took almost 20 minutes for me to fully empty my bladder. When I was finished, I stood up and called for the nurse as I was instructed.
Then, I made the mistake of looking in the bowl.
My urine was blue! Bright blue! Not the toilet water, my actual urine was mother frickin' blue! And there was a lot of it. The nurse was pleased with the amount but seemed to ignore the fact that it was blue. So, I asked her.
"Why is my urine is blue?"
"That's perfectly normal."
"Normal?! Did she replace my bladder with a urinal cake during surgery?!"
She looked at me like I had Tourette's.
"Okay, then. I guess I just miscarried a Smurf."
Again, she just stared at me.
I waddled back to my bed with as much dignity as I could muster with an IV attached to my arm and my ass hanging out.
I laid back down and tried to fall a sleep again but, alas, not so much. My post surgical roommate snored. And when she wasn't snoring, she was bitching. Bitching about the temperature in the room, bitching about her IV, bitching about the nurses checking on her, and of course, bitching about the crying babies next door to us. I guess in all her bitching she forgot they were housing us in the maternity ward.
I guess I fell asleep anyway because I woke up again around 2:45am and really had to pee again. The IV of fluids I had attached to my arm was working my bladder overtime. I slipped out of the compression socks, unplugged my IV from the wall, waddled my way back to the bathroom, peed more blue urine, and waddled back to bed. I laid there for a few minutes trying to will my body back to sleep, but I was SO hungry my stomach was attempting to eat it's way out of me. I tried to read for a little while hoping to fall back to sleep, but my stomach wasn't having it. Then I remembered putting a few snacks in my backpack before I left for the hospital. The surgeon told me that when I got to recovery, I'd have to do two things before they'd let me go home: 1) Go to the bathroom (she neglected to mention the blue dye) and 2) Eat a snack and keep it down. So, I packed some applesauce and a few Gluten free Snickerdoodles that I got from Trader Joe's for after surgery. I couldn't trust the hospital would have anything Soy free for me to eat, so I packed my own. I leapt from the bed, and by leapt, I mean slowly rolled on to my side like an ancient, obese turtle on it's back trying to flip himself over, and reached for my backpack.
The shelf it sitting on was on the left side of my bed, just out of my reach and I had the dexterity of a drunk 2 year old. I tried again, but still couldn't reach it. I took off the compression stockings and stood up on the left side of the bed. My fingers just barely brushed the edges of the bag but not enough for me to get a hold of it. I rolled the IV around to the foot of the bed but that was as far as it would go. I could unplug it but I'd run the risk of the nurses coming in to check on me or waking up Bitchy McRoommate. Frustrated, I sat back down and tried to think of a way to MacGyver the shit out of this situation. Then it came to me. I rolled the rolling bed table all the way over to the left so it was directly in front of the shelf. Laying sideways on the bed, with my head where my butt would normally be and my feet out in front of me, I stretched my legs straight out, and grabbed one of the straps with my totally freakish and yet, completely functional monkey toes. (Point of Fact: My sister would be equal parts grossed out and proud at my minor accomplishment.)
I was able to pull it just enough to slide the bag over until it was on top of the rolling bed table. Then, I was able to pull the table the rest of the way over to me. Triumphant, I ransacked my bag looking for my snacks. After I ate, I slept a little bit more but was woken my roommate bitching about having to have another round of blood work done. She didn't believe that the doctor ordered the tests and wanted to hear it from the doctor personally before she allowed them to stick her again. I'm not gonna tell you what an entitled bitch she was to the nurses, but I will tell you that if I was one of those nurses and she had spoken to me like that, she would have woken up like this...
I got up to go pee again and gave my roommate the stink eye as I walked past her on the way to the bathroom. When I was done, I opened the door to find my doctor standing in front of my bed. I was completely stunned. I didn't realize it was 7:15am and I didn't think I'd see her again until my first PostOp appointment. As she checked my sutures, she congratulated me on being an impressive bleeder. I bled so much they had to transfuse me which is a major accomplishment for an out patient procedure. (Is there a trophy or ribbon for that?) She also told me they found 3 cysts wrapped around the right ovary, as well as, a significant amount of endometriosis. I don't know why I was surprised by that revelation but I was. I let that sink in for a few seconds and then, burst into tears. A weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Everything I had been through had been worth it. I wasn't out of my mind! I was right about my right ovary being a total bitch! I thanked her for all of her help and most importantly, for listening to me to begin with. She gave me my discharge instructions and as she turned to leave, I mentioned that she may want to warn her patients about the blue urine going forward. I explained the reaction I had when I saw it and she laughed out loud and said, "You have the most unique perspective of anyone I've ever met."
Welcome to my world, Lady.