Hospital Minutiae

This is my documentation of February 15, 2006. To put it in context, I had had a pleurectomy a few days before, and I wanted to chronicle my hospital experience for one day.

4:30 AM: Geraldine checks my vital signs including my blood pressure and temperature. She turns off the light after emptying my catheter box.

6:15 AM: Bob delivers a 6th hedgehog to my room. It turns out they've all been from my mom as a part of her creative affection. Bob checks my chest tube drainage box.

6:30 AM: Geraldine weighs me. I now weigh 68.5 kg. I've dropped .6 kg in 24 hours. She leaves the light on and it's hard to get back to sleep. Pain is about a 4 on a scale of 1-10.

6:53 AM: I have a dream about something in particular that ends up hurting me because of my catheter. I think they might have been lacrosse players. Maybe field hockey. But with blue skirts nonetheless.

7:33 AM: I am awoken by a girl, probably in her twenties, named Ashley who gives me a chest x-ray. I forget to ask her to turn off the light when she's done. I sit up in my bed but she put the bed fully upright. After she leaves, I recline the bed until it squeaks - I think at about twenty degrees.

7:43 AM: Natalie, a nurse whom I've met before, comes to check on a few things. Looking at the chest tube suction box, she asks me to take a couple deep breaths and to cough. As I take deep breaths, the box bubbles as if I had stuck a straw in a cup of milk and blown bubbles, or as if I were listening to a boiling pot. She has me sit up to listen to me take deep breaths with a stethoscope. When I cough, I actually cough up a small amount of mucus but it doesn't reach my mouth.

Natalie gives me 4 pills to swallow as well as a big Styrofoam cup full of ice water to help swallow them. The pills range in size from 50 mg to 1 gram. Natalie then give me a heparin shot after asking what my level of pain is. My level of pain is at 4 on the scale of 1-10. Fortunately, because my abdomen is numb from the piritinol, the shot doesn't hurt like a fucking stove. She also flushes my IV at some point.

7:54 AM: Another nurse's aid comes in to check my vital signs. My blood pressure is at 135 over 73 and my temperature is 95 degrees. I think I have a lower temperature because I sipped some ice water earlier. At times before, the nurse-aids have had to check my temperature by placing the thermometer under my shoulder on my armpit because my mouth had been too cold from the ice water.

8:10 AM: I blow my nose. Or at least I try to blow my nose. Everything that has come out of my nose for the past few days, since I got to the hospital, has been dry and/or bloody. I find that as I sit up to blow my nose, I feel as though my left lung was working and my right lung weren't. It's probably because my left lung burns when I try to blow.

8:16 AM: I try to start re-reading Hamlet.

8:25 AM: Natalie comes through the door with a pharmacist named Bob something. Bob is here to refill my bag of piritinol. Natalie helps monitor everything. About twenty seconds after Bob and Natalie appear, a woman brings in a breakfast tray and leaves it on the windowsill because Bob has placed his clipboard and other things on my moving hospital table. After the piritinol box stops beeping, "I am set" and so Bob and Natalie leave. It is about 8:30 and they haven't given me my breakfast tray yet.

8:35 AM: I catch up on my journaling and press the nurse call button.

8:38 AM: A nurse's aid gives me my breakfast. I start eating. It includes a hash-brown patty, bacon, a bagel with cream cheese, orange juice and crispy rice cereal. From Quaker!

8:54 AM: A woman comes in who says she's from housekeeping. She has what may be the most vile, disgusting, vulgar accent I've ever heard. A Maryland accent at its worst. She sees a guy walking through the halls with whom she starts a conversation. He sounds like a black guy, not that it matters, but ah! He's with maintenance as well. Now the two of them are talking about kidney problems behind the curtain and they're annoying the hell out of me.

9:02 AM: The conversation stops and the female custodian quickly mops the room. I have more sympathy for her as she tells me, "We're all just a sick bunch, ain't we?" I start reading the Frederick News-Post. Top headlines: Miller Falters on Gold; Man Found Guilty of Rape; Love and Life: Seniors Recall Valentine's Days Past.

9:25 AM: Natalie checks my heart rate with a small black finger device. She tells me now that patients aren't supposed to use the computers in the rooms, but she just figured, "What the hell. It's not as if you'd be hacking into anything." Actually, there's no risk of me getting computer viruses on their network as long as my catheter keeps me in check. It's like a leash.

9:55 AM: The nurse's aid asks how I did on breakfast and asks if I need anything else. I say no and lie back down to sleep.

10:14 AM: A woman representing anesthesiology says that Dr. Yun would be heading my case today (as far as anesthesia) and that I seem to be doing well on pain at a three or a four. She says that I have plenty of room to use my button after having me sit up to check on my epidural catheter. I remember to push my button after she leaves.

10:19 AM: A woman takes my breakfast tray away.

10:55 AM: Tammy Welsh, the P.A. to Dr. Radecki and Dr. Chomiak checks on my chest tube. She leaves and promises to be right back.

10:59 AM: Mrs. Welsh pops back in to have another listen. She says she's never heard anything like it before as she listens to my suction box. She wants Dr. Chomiak to listen because "it sounds like he's making bubbles". Tammy has me sit up to listen to my breathing with a stethoscope. I remember to press my pain button.

11:55 AM: Random knocking on the door. It sounds like someone just came into my room to wash his or her hands and then left. Dr. Chomiak never came in, as far as I can remember.

11:59 AM: Jessica, a girl who apparently goes to some high school or something like that, comes to tell me that she's going to give me things for a "bed bath".

12:02 PM: Jessica slowly disrobes me and cleans me. Jessica, being a student, doesn't think to ask if perhaps I might want to bathe myself. She cleans all of me except my face. She gives me a towel to cover myself in a small area. Little do I know that she would proceed to clean that area all the same. She then had me stand up so she could clean my hairy ass. Damn.

12:20 PM: After bathing me, Jessica starts changing the sheets. Soon after, a friend of hers, whom I will call Lizzy, came in to check my vital signs. Jessica changes the bed sheets improperly, forgetting to return the bed to its flat position before changing it.

12:30 PM: Jessica leaves for a time. Lizzy stays behind waiting for Donna who is a certified nurse's aid, so she can get me to walk. Lizzy and I talk about school. She asks if my mother is a teacher. She says she had gone to Brunswick Middle, where my mom teaches. A woman arrives with a lunch tray which is placed on the moving bed table on the other side of the improperly changed bed. Lizzy mentions that she has gone to four different high schools because her father is in the military. I mention that my stepfather had gotten out about eight years ago. She asks if I'm artistic. I explain to her my most recent project using rocks. She says it sounds cool. Oh boy.

12:45 PM: With Donna's help, Jessica sets me up on the mobile suction device. Lizzy leaves to tend to some other duty. I start walking. I'm holding onto a pole on wheels. This pole supports my catheter drainage box and my pain medication supplies. Jessica carries my chest tube drainage box and the portable suction device. We start walking down the hall. A teacher says to me, "Thanks for getting her to walk because she really needs the exercise." I laugh and so does Jessica, but considering that Jessica is fairly big...I'd say that was pretty mean. But the teacher is probably on good terms with Jessica. I'd guess that Jessica isn't a bashful person in general, seeing as she didn't pause when it came to bathing me.

We keep walking down the hallway. It feels good to move my legs this way. I take a right, and then another right to complete the loop. I pass a number of CTC students. They are all girls. One of them I recognize as Erin Dannaher, I don't say anything because my vision is blurry and I feel too awkward. We return to my room. Jessica seats me back in my chair and rolls my tray to me.

1:05 PM I start eating after catching up on journaling. There's not much that I want to eat aside from the chocolate cake and the salad with Italian dressing.

1:30 PM (Approximately): I get on myspace and mess around.

1:40 PM: A man from Physical Therapy (P.T.) named Ron comes in. I had just re-started eating lunch, so he says, "I'll come back in a minute." Ron looks like a prick; like a Texas car salesman or something. He's got the small compact form and the beady, blue eyes sunken into a putty-like face.

1:42 PM: I drop my fork onto my lap. My gown is now stained with chocolate. A second later, Ron comes back with a woman who gathers all of my tubes and attachments. We head toward the bike room. I ride for a minute and the woman, Janey, checks my oxygen level. The machine reads 75% so she has Ron go get a new one. The new device indicates that my oxygen remains high even as I'm pedaling. I re-adjust my catheter because Ron almost screwed it up so that I would have tugged it if I were to pedal too quickly.

I pedal for about fifteen minutes. Janey asks if I've been watching the Winter Olympics. No. She asks if I go to Hood. No, I'm still in high school. "Oh, so you wish you were in college, then," she says. "Yes," I say, playing along.

1:57 PM: I get back to my room and sit down to start journaling again. Janey sets all of my tubes in order and somehow triggers a lot of thank-yous from me. I don't know how.

2:07 PM: The food woman for today takes my lunch tray away and then comes back with a menu for me to fill out for tomorrow.

2:16 PM: Donna comes and asks how everything is going. She empties my urinary catheter box, saying, "It looks like you haven't been drinking as much today as you did yesterday," She asks if I'd want a soda. "Yes, I'd like a coke," say I, and she leaves.

2:20 PM: Donna brings a coke and a water to balance it out, I guess. I wonder about Dr. Chomiak and Dr. Radecki and Mrs. Welsh. The coke tastes really good for some reason. I hiccup once.

2:47 PM: I finish a quick update on my live-journal account and then re-read a few blogs on myspace. Katy made a reference to me in her most recent blog which was fairly obvious to me. If I'd ever had the opportunity, I might have told her of the emotional problems I've never properly confronted. I wish there were an easy way to tell her that I am fucked up without giving her the impression that I am fucked up.

2:55 PM: Natalie comes in to mark my chest tube box. She asks, "And Dr. Radecki saw you today?" "No, he didn't see me today," I indicate with a shake of my head and a "no" from my mouth. She offers me something to drink and I show her my coke and water. She leaves, thanking me as she walks away.

3:15 PM: I post another live-journal entry specifically about Katy in the hope that I'll get a response.

3:39 PM: I sift through some of my hair and I notice that a lot of it is falling out when I pull it.

3:45 PM: I wash my face with the remaining bath-wipes.

4:01 PM: Dr. Yun, the anesthesiologist, comes in to tell me that I'll probably be off my PCA pump by tomorrow.

4:10 PM: Charlotte the Student Nurse (SN) returns (she had seen me previous days) and talks incessantly about things for which I do not care. She checks my vital signs and, upon having me lean forward, discovers that my gown is damp with a pink, bloody amalgam.

4:23 PM: Charlotte, Natalie and Charlotte's instructor sit me on the bed to change the dressing of the tube as it emerges from my chest. Charlotte says she will go to get two new gowns for me. Marla, the instructor, says she will give me a heparin shot.

4:25 PM: The dinner tray arrives.

4:45 PM: Marla, Charlotte and Mom all walk into the room simultaneously. Charlotte gives me the heparin shot in my right abdomen. Charlotte needs to change; to shut the fuck up with her questions of how I'm feeling. Damn.

5:02 PM: I get to sit down back in the chair. I can now eat. I start watching Fox News because Mom is now here and neither of us wanted to watch Home Improvement so she asked for Fox News. Reports are presented as to why Dick Cheney was so slow to tell the world that he shot his friend in the face.

5:30 PM: Charlotte asks me about 50 questions in the most asinine way. For God's sake, can't she let me tell her about my problems when they arise? I hope I never have to deal with another student nurse again.

6:00 PM: The questions end. Charlotte leaves to get me a coke.

6:02 PM: Charlotte returns without a coke. She asks why I couldn't have my catheter removed before my epidural. Dumbass. It's because the epidural lowers my bladder control so the epidural has to come out before the catheter. I tell her that that has already been explained to me but she doesn't shut up. Mom keeps adding stupid comments and prolonging Charlotte's equally stupid comments. It's a good thing they're both so caring, I have to admit, but damn. Mom leaves to get fast food for me. Charlotte leaves to get a coke.

6:10 PM: Charlotte returns with a caffeine-free coke. She apologizes for being unable to find a big cup into which the entire can of soda could fit. She asks if I need anything else, I DID NOT ASK FOR ANYTHING AND I'M TIRED OF BEING ASKED IF I WANT ANYTHING. I'm a bit touchy.

6:24 PM: Natalie comes to look at the chest tube at the point of entrance. She notices that it has been leaking a little more and so she spends time screwing with it as I sit turned to the right. She says she will talk to the doctor about it.

6:28 PM: Natalie stops in for a second to remind me that I can be given a suppository if I so desire. I do not. I feel I can go by myself if I so need.

7:06 PM: Charlotte comes in to look at my bandage. She notices that it's bleeding on my gown again. Apparently, Natalie didn't help very much. Charlotte says she will get the blood pressure cuff and thermometer to check my vitals. She leaves the door open "in case someone needs to come in".

7:20 PM: Mom comes with food. Charlotte also returns to push the tray to me and to ask ten more unnecessary questions. When she leaves, Mom says, "You'll make a good husband if you can listen to that. Maybe this is a life-lesson from God." I reply, "Maybe God is force-feeding me patience." Mom soon leaves.

7:48 PM: Charlotte comes in with Joyce. They both go to get an extension tube so I can reach the toilet in order to have my first bowel movement in, I think, twelve hours short of a week.

7:55 PM: I get to the toilet and try to take a shit for about twenty minutes.

8:15 PM: I give up on shitting and get Charlotte to help me back to my bed where I sit to wait for her and Maura to get new bandaging for my chest tube. Charlotte tells me I will need to take laxatives via suppository, and I accept.

8:26 PM: As per order, I roll onto my right side and receive a huge pain in the ass. It doesn't go in as far as I had expected. I am prepared for it because of ninth grade. I sit upright as the small thing starts to melt in my ass. Maura and Charlotte work on undressing the chest tube. They take about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, the chest tube feels like it needs to be yanked out as if it were a splinter. When it is finally dressed, the chest tube doesn't hurt quite so badly.

8:45 PM: I go back to the toilet, this time with burning bowels and a little more motivation. Every little piece I drop makes the load feel heavier somehow. I finish after I can't go anymore. Overall, I didn't expel very much.
9:05 PM: I climb back to my seat with Charlotte's help. She turns off lights and straightens things out. Then she talks for a long while.

9:10 PM: Charlotte leaves. I say goodbye and she says, "Well, I guess I won't see you because I'm not coming back until next week." I manage to say, "Thank you for all your help," somehow.

9:12 PM: Lynn, the nurse's assistant, takes over the night shift and introduces herself along with a fresh cup of ice water. She asks if I need anything and I say no.

9:28 PM: Dee, that creepy old bitch walks in as I'm getting my bandage peeled off. Through her raspy, smoke-beaten voice, she tells me that she's glad I'm doing well and, "I've been waiting all night to come in and talk to you but you've had company so I waited." As I sit there with two ape women behind me ripping at my back, Dee strokes my left hand with the thumb of her right hand which I notice has a tattoo of a rose on it. Dee puts her face right in front of mine, leaning sideways, until I break a reluctant and nervous smile. Dee asks where the hedgehogs are. She notices that there are now six of them. She strokes the hair on the back of my neck and leaves. I really hate her now.

9:52 PM: Joyce, the RN for the night, checks the drainage of the chest tube. She finds that it hasn't drained since it was last checked. She offers to get in touch with someone to see if I can get any homework done while I'm in here. I don't feel up to it. The pain is too high and I don't have enough energy nor enough focus to get anything constructive done.

10:15 PM: Myspace and a peek at Livejournal. I switch my photo on myspace to one in which I'm wearing a hospital gown.

10:58 PM: My CPA box starts beeping. I hit the nurse call button but Joyce had already heard it from the outside. She stops it.

11:00 PM: The CPA box starts beeping again. I press the call button again.

11:01 PM: Lynn comes to stop the beeping. She says the pharmacy has been alerted.

11:03 PM: The CPA box starts beeping again.

11:05 PM: Joyce comes to stop the beeping

11:07 PM: The CPA box starts beeping again. There is nothing I can do to stop it.

11:12 PM: Joyce brings an Indian pharmacist who replaces the pertinol.

11:15 PM: Joyce asks if I need anything. No, I don't. I take a sip of water.

11:28 PM: Lynn checks my vital signs

11:30 PM: I get up to check the computer one last time. I feel pretty good. The pain hasn't increased for a long time.

11:41 PM: I stand up to get back in bed. I spend about ninety seconds scratching my tailbone. Nice.

11:55 PM: I settle in bed for the first time in about twelve hours. My hair feels like it still has shampoo in it. I remember Lynn had told me that she'd check my vital signs at four in the morning.

11:59 PM: I take a sip of ice water. I'm ready to go to sleep. I will probably watch more television or try to read.