In critical care, you have nurses caring for you all the time. They change shifts at 7am and 7pm, with an over-lap either side. During this time they gave me so much attention and I tended to have a wash after 7.30pm to wash off the day and be comfy for night time.
Now, washing was not just a quick shower. Even when I was out of the halo, I wasn’t allowed to stand up, or even sit up without the bed being slanted up to support me. So, I had a nice wash (thank-you nurses) on Saturday night and thought that Sunday would be much of a muchness…but Sunday came on round. At least, I think it was the Sunday.
I was told that I would be moving back up to the trauma ward, I was no longer critical and all of my vital signs were ‘regular’. I was one step closer to going home. Once up on the trauma ward, in room 24 I felt a little forgotten about. It was so quiet. Visiting time had been and gone. My Great-Aunt had been to visit, along with other members of my family and now, it was so quiet….a sad silence.
My pillows were covered in blood, I wasn’t sure where from as I had that many stitches in my head. A doctor came in, a very friendly doctor and he told me that he wouldn’t usually anesthetise for one stitch….however one turned in to two and then three. Yes, he sewed three stitches in to my head with no extra pain relief. By then, I was happy that I was all sewn back together and mending. He went, I worked out how to use the TV and plugged my own earphones in as their ones don’t fit around a neck brace but other than that I was alone.
There was hustle and bustle outside the doors of my side-room, I could hear that and wondered who was being brought in, if it someone in a similar situation to me, if they were stable. I was waiting, waiting for a wash, waiting to walk again and waiting for tomorrow….another day closer to going home day!
But no. I pressed my buzzer, as a nurse had told me I had to if I had any questions. A nurse came in to my room and the conversation went a bit like this:
Nurse: Yeah, what can I do for you?
Me: I wondered if there is time for me to have a wash now, as it’s about 10pm and I’m due my medication and then bed. (In critical care, lights dim….I wasn’t sure if they did up there too!)
Nurse: I don’t have time to wash you, I’m with patients at the moment.
Me: Oh, umm, okay.
Nurse: Anything else?
Me: No, thank-you.
*Door shuts as nurse leaves room*
Me: Am I not a patient?
I began to cry, I text my sisters and rang my Mom. It was horrible, I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t move my left hand. I hadn’t been able to use a toilet, I had come off my contraceptive pill (which resulted in returning to my previous cycle), I’d had my hair cut off and acrylic nails removed. Being able to wash and brush my teeth was the only thing I had left. The conversation calmed me, I pressed the buzzer again (with knots in my stomach) and then…..an angel! Chanel, she is an amazing nurse and I really hope she goes on to do even more amazing things. She is a nurse on the critical care ward and helps on the trauma ward through an agency. We washed me down with cloths, changed my bed sheets (including the blood soaked pillows), put me in a fresh nightie and…then I was clean and comfy again. It was amazing.
(See my Oatsosimple’s in the background, my breakfasts….thank-you Momma! …& the sexy socks are to help circulation.)
Monday couldn’t come soon enough, the medical staff all wanted to know if I felt comfortable walking….as if by magic, I was up on my feet!
I started to text friends and family, to plan visits. My Mom came to visit, along with some crafty items for me to make to keep my right hand busy and try to get my left hand to move.
Mom was sneaky and took a photo while I was having a nap!
That evening, members of my family visited along with three of my best friends…..although, at that point I thought that would the first visit of many visits. I had a good night sleep, exhausted and surrounded by cards with amazing well wishes. I’d received gifts from work colleagues, my friends, even my Mom’s friend….it was all so fantastic.
Tuesday, I was woken up with the news. “We think you can start to get ready to go home”.