Let Me Outta Here!

I seemed to be progressing well — there had been no more issues with the hemorraging, my vitals were good and stable, I didn’t need oxygen.

On the third day, as any patient would, I became restless.  I tired of the constant interruption of the nurses, although they meant well, the stream of people in and out of the ward, and the restrictive visiting hours.  Though it was nice to see John, I was ready to see the outside — and there were no windows anywhere to be found.

On top of that, I had been in the  bed now going on the 4th day, without a shower, brushed teeth, clean hair, anything.  Admittedly, I wasn’t ready to run any races, but I didn’t plan on spending my retirement in that condition, either.

The surgeon dropped by later that day, while John was seated next to me.   “When you going to let him out of here?” John asked.  “He’s getting pretty tired of the noise, and he’s not able to get any rest.”

“I don’t know,” was all the doctor volunteered.  “It won’t be long.”  We chatted for a few minutes, him finally explaining what had happened to me in surgery, then turned and left.  His explanation was that because of the complications, they needed me to stay in the CCU for further observation.

“Think I’ll get back to the room tomorrow?” I asked.

“‘Seems no one’s concerned about it but you and me,” John replied.  “I’m going to make a couple phone calls when I leave and see what I can find out.”  Even the nurses had acquiesced that I needn’t be there.  I was clearly out of the danger zone, however, nothing seemed to be happening to get me back to a normal cardiac ward with a normal room.

I slept, and read, and slept some more, trying to make the hours pass more quickly.  But with the announcements going off, the lights constantly on, and the bed now feeling like a stone slab, I was definitely ready for some changes.

The fourth day was the same.  Nothing happened, no doctor visit, nurses knew nothing, and still I sat there.  Some of the equipment had been moved away, though I was still on a liquid diet, and dropping weight like a rock.  I was to lose 28 pounds in two weeks, I later found.  Though I probably needed to lose a few pounds, it was awfully quick, and instead of getting stronger, I found myself getting much weaker; even sitting up in the bed became a challenge.

By the fifth day, I’d had enough.  I awoke and observed a new nurse sitting at the station just across from me, one I’d never seen before.  I got her attention and called her over.

“I really need some help,” I said.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

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“I’ve been down here 5 days, with no toothbrush, bath, or exercise.  I don’t know what the hold-up is, but I really need to clean myself a little.  You see, I’m not at all used to this, and it’s hindering how I feel.  I’m getting weaker by the day, yet the doctors don’t seem to care that I don’t need to be here.  Is there anything you can do to help?”

“Well, I’m a contract nurse, so I’m not sure what I can do to get you out of here, but I can certainly help you get cleaned up.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  With that she crossed the room and started down the hallway.

It wasn’t long before John came in.  “Well, I think I found out why your stuck here,” he said.  “They don’t have a room for you.  Stupid state rules,” he added.  “They won’t let the hospitals expand, yet the city’s grown so fast, there are not nearly enough beds to accommodate the citizens in the nearby hospitals.”

“So what do we do?” I asked.  “I’m about to go stir-crazy in this heart ‘mall’”.

Just then, the nurse I had pleaded with earlier walked up.  “Mr. Woodford, here’s a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cap to put on your head to “wash” your hair.  It’s the best I can do right now.  If you’ll wait a few minutes, I’ll be back to give you a sponge bath.  This is ridiculous.”  She disappeared again.

“You’ve been busy,” John said.  “You didn’t happen to request  a room, did you?”

“I sure did,” I smiled.  “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get me out of here.”