Hospital Stay

*****I thought I posted this a few days ago. I apologize for not having done that. I know its been awhile since I posted.*****


Shortly after I came home from the hospital, my niece told me a story about when I came out of the recovery room on surgery day. Apparently, I woke up shortly after they settled me into my room and was asking for "The But-ton". My husband chimed in at this point in the story to explain that I made sure to pronounce the word button very clearly so that everyone understood me. My mother thought I needed the nurse and couldn't find the call button. My husband thought maybe I meant my pain button and put it in my hand. I quickly pushed the button and dozed back off to sleep. I don't remember being in any pain but apparently I had a NEED for morphine. :-)

I do remember needing a little pain relief overnight that night but after that I stopped using it. As the meds starting coming out of my system, I slept less and became more aware of my surroundings. I was able to interact with the nurses and CNAs as well as start getting to know my roommate.

She was an older woman who lived in a nursing home before coming to the hospital. A few months ago she had a stroke so she struggled with talking and wasn't really able to do much for herself. Unfortunately, the Sunday before I arrived, she had fallen out of her wheelchair trying to get to the pull string to get help in her room at the nursing home.  She had broken her arm and gotten a major bump on her head. The first time I saw her, I almost gasped. It was a good thing she was sleeping. Her appearance improved daily and by the time I left the hospital she seemed to be in good spirits and looked pretty good.

Much to my dismay, the nurses kept forgetting to give her back her call button after the moved her. So, every couple hours she would call out for help and I would have to push my button and then explain to the nurse that came in that my roommate needed help. I didn't mind helping her; it was just frustrating that the nurses couldn't remember something so simple.

I also felt a little bit bad that my roommate only had one visitor the whole time I was there. It reminded me how lucky I was to have someone there every day and sometimes more than once a day. I got lots of flowers and magazines and stuffed animals and was surrounded by love.

Each day at the hospital I was allowed to get up and around a little more. It felt good to be able to help my roommate once I could get in and out of bed by myself. Sometimes when a doctor would come in and talk to her, they would move her TV away from her. Then they would leave and she would be laying there bored. For awhile, everytime I walked by to use the bathroom she would ask me to put it back. I just got in the habit of checking it and asking her if she needed anything else. I would give her back her call button and make sure she was all set.

When the shifts of nurses would change, they would come around and meet everyone. She had a hard time telling them her specific needs. I thought for sure that something like that would be in her chart but no one ever seemed to know. She couldn't feed herself. She needed help getting on a bed pan. She can't swallow pills so they have to put it in applesauce. She loves blueberry muffins for breakfast. :-)

I left her my biggest bouquet of flowers because she deserved to have some beauty on her side of the room. Even though we talked very little, I know she was a wonderful and sweet woman and deserved nothing but beauty and kindnessI worried about her when I left. I wasn't sure anyone would take care of her the way she needed because she had a hard time with communication. The afternoon I was discharged they called me at home to see how my stay was. I made sure to tell them about how the nurses never seemed to know anything about the patients and how that would be a problem every time the nurses changed shifts. It caused some problems for me a few times but it caused way more problems for her. They reassured me that they would look into her specific case but also into how things were handled because changing shifts was supposed to be seamless.

I hope that she is continuing to get better and that she has had more visitors. Most of all, I hope that the nurses got better about meeting her needs. The last day I was there, I heard one of the physical therapists say that she would be there for a few months. They didn't think she could handle surgery at her age and so her arm had only been splinted so they couldn't risk sending her home and having there be a problem with her arm not setting correctly. I think about her at night when I am waiting to fall asleep. I can almost hear her voice saying, "Please. Can you please help me? I need help."

I think that maybe next week I will call the hospital and see if she is still there. If she is, maybe I'll go visit and bring her some more flowers. I would really just like to know she is doing ok. My heart aches for her. How come when people age we stop paying attention to them. Our parents help us our entire lives and when they get to the point in their lives when they need help, we abandon them. Shame on those people who so easily throw their family and especially their parents aside.

Family is so very important to me and I can't imagine ever giving up on them. My brothers are a bunch of dorks that hardly ever do anything with or for our family but if they called me, i would help because they are still family. I try to help my sisters with their kids as often as I can and I talk to my mother 6+ times a  day on the phone.

I would never make it through this process without my family. Plus, so many of my husbands family have called or sent cards or e-mailed me and I appreciate it all. I just wish that everyone in the world could experience all the love that I have in my life...