Remember Mom’s Advice

Today is Thursday and I’m at home, recuping after yesterday’s thoracentesis. Usually I go to work the day after, but yesterday was. . .oh, let’s call it “special”.

I took the Xanax so that I wouldn’t fight the surgery. Then I hopped into T.’s van so she could drive me there and back. Once we arrived, I signed some papers (could have been for the surgery or to have cement delivered, I don’t know), and then I was taken back to where the action happens. As usual, I changed into the hospital gown, hit the ladies’ room, and went into the surgical area. The procedure began and all went well for a few minutes. Dr. K. had the suction on “slow”, since my reputation had preceded me. So far, so good. And then the pressure began, along with the cough. And then I had to stop. So I told them to stop for just a minute so I could get a good breath, and maybe my chest would stop hurting. Dr. K. stopped –I actually felt him move away from me—and then in a minute we started again. For about 15 seconds. The pressure in my chest was too much, and I told them we just had to stop for good. So Dr. K. removed the equipment, and the very next thing I remember was lying on the gurney, flat on my back, confused and in pain. Well. This is new. “What happened?” One of the nurses sweetly replied that I’d fainted. With a smile on her face, she said, ”When you say that you’re ready to stop, you’re not kidding!” And we all had a laugh. Since I was in pain, I was trying find a more comfortable position, and realized that my pants were wet. Of course I had to ask. The sweet nurse kindly replied that when people faint, they generally do wet themselves. Y’all, I had peed all over myself when I fainted. No kidding. At least my socks stayed dry. And then I was offered some designer hospital wear (read: scrubs) for the ride home, for which I was very grateful. So y’all, there I was in pain, a puncture wound in my back, a cough, and wet from here down. Then, while those compassionate nurses were changing my pants, the nausea hit. Repeatedly.

Yeah, it was a special day, all right.

Eventually, I was able to withstand sitting up long enough for the nurses to get the rest of my clothes on-- yup, I’m over 40 and still can’t dress myself-- and wheel me out to T.’s van for the ride home. The nausea and vomiting continued until I could get some anti-nausea medicine in me. That stuff works! Then I was able to enjoy my dinner of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and ginger ale.

And as promised, I’m counting my blessings: Thanks to T. for driving me, going to the store, babysitting me all day long, and petting my lazy dog. Thanks to Dr. K. who stopped the procedure when I asked him to. Thanks to those kind and wonderful nurses who made me feel like I was no trouble at all even though I was. Thanks to all who called and thought about me during what was a difficult day. And thanks to you for being here, laughing and crying with me.

¶ 11:39 AM