Weird Wednesday: Thursday edition

Before I get into the rest of the hospital drama, I should probably tell you that I am not normal.  Okay yeah, that's a given.  What I mean is that I don't react normally to man-made chemical pharmaceuticals.  And my reaction is not consistent.  Some things way over react, some just have other than normal reactions, and some things considered quite potent do not react on me at all.  I don't seem to have that problem with natural drugs, and my preference is to self medicate with weeds, teas, and sometimes alcohol for the most part.

Don't let me give you the wrong impression, it's not that I don't like a good buzz now and then ;)  I've just learned over the years that I can't trust what will happen if I simply follow the instructions when it comes to drugs.  For instance, Valium .. and cocaine (I grew up in the 60's, OF COURSE I experimented) have No. Effect. Whatsoever.  Nada ... zilch.  Some cold medicines, however (Sinutab anybody?) will knock me flat on my ass.  You would swear I was asleep, or unconscious.  I'm not though, I can hear everything going on around me ... I just can't respond.  And then there's aspirin.  I am the only person I know that it makes incredibly sleepy ... and some kinds of speed put me to sleep before they wire me up.

So yeah, the older and wiser me does not experiment much anymore.  In the rare event that I go to a doctor and he prescribes something new, I won't take it until I'm at home and don't have anything important to do, and even then only under controlled circumstances.

So when I wake up from the surgery on my knee, I find they have me on a morphine pump.  COOL!  I've heard all kinds of good things about morphine and I'm ready for a good time.  The day following the incident with the crazy cat lady I was in the room by myself.  I could handle that, no more buzzkill ... only I didn't feel buzzed at all.  It WORKED - it relieved the pain, but that was it, no buzz, no fun stuff and that was a tad disappointing after all the hype.

The next day, bright and early, in bopped a little woman that introduced herself as the physical therapist.  She said that today, I had to get up and walk!

WHAT?!!!  Are you NUTS?  What are they giving you? ... because it MUST be better than what they're giving me.  They just operated on that leg the day before yesterday.

She just grinned and said, Yep, she knew that, but I couldn't be released from the hospital until I could get around by myself.  Not to worry, I would have a walker and she would be right there with me.

OOOkay, If you say so.

So I get my hands up under me to push myself up to turn around and she reaches out, grabs my cast a little below the knee and YANKS it towards towards her trying to swing me around!  The same direction it broke in the first place!

The morphine didn't seem to help that pain much at all.  I roared in pain ... and the bitch started LAUGHING!  I went totally ballistic.  She was smart enough to stay out of my reach because I was struggling to get close enough to wallop her.  When I couldn't, I started throwing things but I didn't have a decent projectile ... Styrofoam cups, straws and magazines don't make very effective weapons and were all that I could reach.

You know, it's been 15 or 20 years since it happened, but to this day I can still hear that laugh, and I still get madder than hell at the thought of it.  She stood in the doorway for a bit, but finally left when it became apparent to her that I wasn't going to do anything but attack her if she came near me. 

The nurse came in and got me to calm down somewhat.  I told her she better not let that bitch come back into my room or somebody was going to get hurt.  She explained to me that I "had" to see her, that she was the head of the department of Physical Therapy and had to approve and sign the release before they could discharge me.  I didn't care who she was, I flat out told the nurse, if that bitch got within reaching distance I was going to rock her world.

They left me alone for a little while.  That afternoon the nurse comes in and says that I HAVE to be able to walk on my own to be released and that the Physical Therapist had to SEE it or she wouldn't release me.

Okay FINE then.  She could tell me what I need to do and then stand in the doorway and watch because if she came anywhere NEAR me I was going to deck her ... believe that!  I guess they took me at my word because a few minutes later there was a knock on my door.  I looked up and there, stopped at the door mind you,  are two of the biggest, baddest, bouncer looking fellas I'd ever laid eyes on ... dressed in white coats.  I'm telling you they were both at least three feet wide at the shoulders.

"We're from Physical Therapy, can we come in?"

I started laughing, I couldn't help it.  They had sent in the goon squad for little ol' me ;) "So, you must be Attila and Hun?"

"We heard you had a problem with our boss."

Well, yeah ... and I proceeded to tell them the whole story.

"So you don't have a problem with what you have to do?  You're not going to get violent with us?"

No!  I have a problem with people in the healing professions, who are supposed to have some compassion, hurting me and thinking that it's funny.

So they brought the walker over to the bed, and came to the side with my good leg.  Thank you! at least they weren't dumber than a box of rocks.  They let me get turned around myself.  I put my hand on the walker and they helped me slide forward and off the bed.  When my feet hit the floor I stood up  ... and the whole room went TILT!

Remember the morphine that didn't make me feel buzzed?  Well, apparently that was because I wasn't moving.  But this wasn't "buzzed".  This shot way past that ... straight to "copped the spins and hugged the toilet".  It was not a good feeling, not even a little.

I took my couple of steps, which is all they wanted to start with anyways, then got back in bed feeling very ill.  Told the nurses I wanted OFF that morphine pump!  Okay, they would switch me to Demoral by mouth.  It seemed okay at first, at least I wasn't feeling sick.

The next day my (ex)husband calls.  He was working in the next town and they had a Taco Bell there.  I LOVE Taco Bell, and they didn't have one in the town we lived in so I didn't get it very often.  I'd been complaining because the hospital food sucked, so he wanted to know if I'd like him to bring me Taco Bell when he came up that evening.  HELL YEAH!  I was primed by the time he got there, I'd been anticipating that yumminess all day long.  Didn't even try to eat my hospital dinner, I had the good stuff coming.

When he walked in the door he had a BURGER KING bag in his hand!!!  and I blew a gasket.  No, I didn't yell at him ... I wasn't mad.  I bawled.  Big, giant crocodile tears.  Total hysteria.  You would have thought I had just lost my best friend.  He didn't understand what the big deal was *rolls eyes* but as far as I was concerned the world was coming to an end.

The following day he told me that the nurses had reported that I had sat up in my hospital bed all night with my imaginary phone dispatching fire trucks.  That, coupled with the previous days hysteria made me refuse any more Demoral also.  Imagine that LOL.

Attila and Hun came in every day for PT until I was out of there.  They were big and looked scary, but were really a couple of teddy bears ... very nice and considerate and they convinced that evil little twit they worked for that she didn't need to come back in and see me.  Good thing too, because I'd have probably left the hospital in hand cuffs on my way to jail.

On release day, after the Doc said I could go we waited ... and waited ... and waited some more.  The nurses said they had to do some kind of paperwork and were waiting for them to bring a wheelchair up.  I had crutches by this time and was getting handy with them.  After waiting a couple of hours I was done.  I looked at the husband and said "Get the suitcase!".
"What are you going to do, we have to wait for ..."

"I'm going home ... you coming?"

"But they said ..."

I was already out the door.  As I crutch past the nurses station one says,

"We're still waiting for ... "

"I'm done waiting.  I'm going HOME".

"You can't just leave, we have to ..."

"Watch me"

"But you have to go down in a wheelchair ... hospital regulations"

"Then you damn well better get it here before I get to that elevator, because I'm GOING home ... and I'm going now."

And do you know a miracle occurred!  The wheelchair beat me to the elevator, funny how that worked.  All in all, I doubt the hospital staff would tell you I was the best patient they ever had.  But hey, I least I kept them entertained while I was there.