After 8 days in the hospital, I’m released on Saturday night. I feel like a prisoner who has been unshackled and rub my right arm, free of tubes, with relish.
I can use the bathroom without carting a few pounds of metal with me.
I don’t have to have a nurse take my blood pressure or my temperature every 4 hours, even if I’m in the deepest of sleep.
I don’t have to hear the incessant beeping of the IV machine when a medication is finished.
I’m giddy about the idea of going home and look forward to one main thing: a shower.
Despite the wonderful care I received at the hospital, I cannot wait to wash my hair, wash the adhesive glue from my body, and feel like a normal person.
The cold front has just moved in, as I’m being carted, literally, to my car in the front of the hospital. My sister is driving and as we move along I-35 in silence, I cannot believe that over a week has passed. Is it really almost April? It’s like nothing has changed for everyone else, but I’ve sped along in leaps and bounds.
I take in the lights, ones that I’ve seen millions of times before, as I’ve commuted from Lewisville to Denton for years as an undergraduate, and they all seem different somehow. As if I’m looking at them for the first time.
Once home, I’m settled into a bath as I tug vigorously at my skin to remove those pesky adhesive remnants.
It should be noted that even days later I’ve failed my quest because I’m still finding them.
Dried off and in pajamas, I take in the fact that I’m in my bed and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s nice to hear the normal sounds of a household, without the contribution of medical equipment or random voices from nurses, technicians, and doctors. A couple of days off and the tests will begin again.
I’m already scheduled a PET scan and antibody injections. I try to see people I haven’t seen in a long time or at least since before I was in the hospital. I perhaps spook one of my workplaces by showing up out of the blue to return a book. One of them asks: “Should you even be here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
I tell them that I have plans for grocery shopping and I’m flexing my freedom by driving my car again and going places.
I tell stories and get hugs.
I realize that defeat is not possible.
I want back to as much normalcy as I can muster.
I’m in a bit of a fog post-hospital, just trying to get a routine of sorts. If there is any conclusion I can make of all this, the routine is relatively simple (though not necessarily in any order):
Drink fluids
Wash hands thoroughly all the time
Eat foods that you crave or when you have an appetite at all
Stay connected with friends and family
Don’t push it if you’re not feeling well
Take medication
Do what the doctor says
Rest
All the other stuff seems extraneous and it’s weird to put such trivial things at the front of the line. If I were tired in the past, I’d just drink a caffeinated beverage and relish the buzz. Now, not so much. I drink water or juice and just sit still.
Sitting still is torture for me. I’m a lot happier with my hands or brain busy.
Thus far, it has been a lesson in patience. Patience, which I’ve found out, is my greatest ally.
If you have always been very busy, it is difficult to learn to sit still and to relax! I've known that too. But you learn : laying in a couch with a book and finally close the eyes, instead of being bent on your laptop and surfing 10 tabs at the same time; taking a relaxing bath with calm music and candles (though I'm still waiting for this one!) instead of running through busy streets for some shopping... After all, sitting still is not bad, and that's when you realize that we don't need much to feel good!! :-)
ReplyDeleteLove you Diana! Take care of yourself and thank you for keeping us up to date!
Nadège
OMG it is a wonderful feeling to disconnect the tubes!!! I had a chest tube that went into this little suitcase, and a permanent IV in my arms at all time. I had to carry the suitcase AND drag the IV cart around with me - to the bathroom. Bathing is hard with tubes, and also couldn't get tube going into my ribs wet. I hardly got to wash my hair the whole 2 weeks there. Was so glad when Mom & sister brought me toiletry bag from home with my own stuff.
ReplyDeleteI could barely walk and had to do pulmonary rehab in the hospital (even though 3 weeks before being admitted I was running up hills in San Francisco) , and had to get one of those seats for the shower. Had to shower/dress/makeup/hair all sitting down, because of getting tired so easily. So don't think you are being lazy or it's unusual - being in bed for 2 weeks really makes the body weak. Just keep pushing to get stronger with gentle walks. Take it easy!
One thing you might notice when eating everything at home or being used to bland foods it SALT. Even now i have HUGE sensitivity to salt. one thing I really really enjoyed while on chemo to keep calories in were ROOT BEER FLOATS. Get some really high quality real vanilla bean ice cream (or vegan ice cream) and get some really good root beer like Virgil's. This was one thing I craved when everything else sounded gross. I also would pride myself in eating spicy food, and chemo made my spice tolerance SO low it was disheartening. I had to slowly build up my tolerance after chemo was over.
Root bear floats for the win! Yes, I've definitely had to adjust my food choices, some stuff I loved just seems disgusting to me now. Also, I LOVE spicy foods and have been avoiding them during this whole process...
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