Wednesday November 23rd, 2016

The exercise:

Write some: notes from a sickbed.

Okay, it's not quite that bad. But I am going to be less mobile for at least the next few days.

This afternoon I went up to Penticton with Kat (and Miles - Max stayed with Kat's parents to make life easier/better for everyone) to the hospital to have a vasectomy. I was in and out in under an hour, though I wouldn't have minded having more time to linger afterward. Full recovery is 7 to 14 days (I'm pulling for 7, personally), with the first couple of days requiring very little movement. So I'm more or less glued to the couch or bed until Friday.

Kat and I knew Miles would be our last (heck, Max was a close call for a while there... but we finally agreed that we wanted him to have a sibling) and this is how we're making sure that's the case. And after Kat gave birth to our boys I figured I should take a turn on the pain train.

Feeling okay at the moment. Tylenol and ice packs are doing the trick so far. Hoping for a decent night's sleep tonight, but we shall see.

Anyway. Apologies in advance if I'm extra grumpy the rest of the week.


* My life is passing me by fifteen minutes at a time. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack... is going to be used as a murder weapon at this rate.

* The nurse seems nice. Caring and understanding. That's important. I think she's not going to file charges. Ice pack off...

* My doctor is supposed to stop by to see how I'm doing. That's what they keep telling me anyway. Started telling that tale about an hour ago. I wonder if he can feel my rage through the walls. Might explain his reluctance. Ice pack on...

* On a scale of one to ten? I'd say my pain is around a twelve. How would you rate yours, doc? Ice pack off...

* I don't appreciate these handcuffs. Nor the officer stationed at my door. The staff is being very unreasonable all of a sudden. I'm pretty sure my doctor will make a full recovery. Not sure if I can say the same for myself, you know? Ice pack on...

* Oh, glory be. The routine has changed. Variety, spice of life and all that! Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of...

* I don't think the pain medication is working. Or maybe it's working too well? Hard to say. I kinda like all of these pretty colors though. Might as well take another pill, see what happens. I'm not getting out of here anytime soon anyway...


Greg said...

Whoa, well that was unexpected news! I guess I'm a little relieved we didn't have a secret theme week leading up to that reveal (unless I've been especially oblivious to recent prompts... laundromat, then errand boy, then funeral parlour -- ah, it all makes sense now! The Canadian healthcare system must be more brutal than I'd previously understood. Oh, and Winter as the foretelling of the ice-packs! Ingenious!) I hope the swelling goes down soon (hmm... possibly the most inappropriate comment I could make given the location of the...ahem... injury). I'm not laughing here, honest.
Well, confined to the bed and icepacks should give you a chance to catch up on comments at least, so there is a silver lining. And you've put an end to me making jokes about you having another six children, so there's that too. I hope you're up and about again soon :)
(Hah, and I do like the ending to your tale of ice-on ice-off... subtle and appropriate!)

Notes from a sickbed
Well, this is a surprise. I don't remember getting sick, and I don't remember being admitted to a hospital. But here I am, lying in a well-made bed with crisp, starched sheets (they're uncomfortable if I'm honest, but they are clean), propped up on eleven pillows (I counted) watching the nurses go about their duties and my fellow residents in this ward in their beds. The nurses seem to be busy: no-one has come to check on me, or give me medication, or... well, frankly, they ignore me even when I shout at them and I'd really like to know what I'm in for. Especially since it seems to be my memory that's affected. I'm a bit scared.


The walls here are odd. I was staring at them for an hour before I realised that I could look at the ones behind me (there's something up with my head, I'm sure of it), and then I realised what it was: they're made of iron, or a similar metal. Who makes walls out of iron?


Well, apart from elevator manufacturers, obviously. Oh, and shipping container makers. And... oven manufacturers - ok, let's rephrase that question. Who makes hospital walls out of iron?


I wish I hadn't thought about the ovens now.


So that was an unpleasant bed bath. Not least because I don't seem to have any legs below the knee, which was a surprise. Not in a good way, but it might explain something about my memory. And there was something odd about the nurse too, but I'm having trouble remembering what it was. Everything kind of went hazy when she put her spare hand on my head. She was holding me down, and I can't remember why I was struggling now, maybe it was after I saw my legs. Didn't see my legs. Whatever. And she was sponging me down with a dark-red sponge -- I guess they use them to hide the blood or something? And then she put her spare hand on my head and everything kind of went fuzzy and cool. Better than Tylenol!


Nurses don't have three hands. That's why I was struggling.


They've put my legs next to the bed for me to try and calm me down. What the f-?


Sarge came and sat by my bedside to talk to me. He's missing bits. Lots of bits. His head wobbled a lot on his spine because there's no chest really, and not much neck either. He looked almost as upset as I did, especially when I threw up in his rib cage. He said we won the war and the aliens are helping us out with medical care and the like because it's part of the treaty.


When we got up my legs got up after him and walked off too.

Marc said...

Greg - I have decided that vasectomies are an odd thing. It obviously hampers one's mobility, yet most people won't want to know the actual reason why you're walking funny. But I'm not at all ashamed of it, nor do I think it should be some big secret or something. So... yeah, odd situation.

That's some impressive deductive work on the secret theme week (that I did not at all do). But yes, it would appear comments are getting caught up on with all this extra couch time!

That's a rather subtly terrifying opening entry. And it doesn't take long for things to take off from there! I think the one line entries are my favorite of the bunch, but the whole thing is pretty great really :)