It is a terrible night. I do not have good symptom control. I'm miserable.Knowing that I'm being discharged, I'm convinced that if I could just get out of the bed, clean up and dress in real-people clothes, I will feel better.
I jimmy the side-rails down, gather the various equipment on one side and devise a system for getting up. After a few modifications, I am up and moving. It takes a couple trips to drag stuff around to where I can access it. Ready to become human again, I realize that until I'm disconnected from some of the paraphernalia, there's really not much I can do. I put on some brand new sister socks...and nearly wipe out on the slick floor. The bag of swag included some slipper-socks, so I don those instead.
When the nurse comes with the meds, we discuss the discharge and she disconnects me from everything so I can get dressed.
John, Mom and Dad arrive. I'm really bad company. I haven't slept and I've done a lot since 6 a.m. Let me now apologize to Gladys and Ethel, the nice ladies from the church who stopped by to see me. "This is not a good time," I snapped at them. Ladies, I'm sorry for treating you so poorly. If they ever go online and Google their names, maybe they'll see it.
After some confusion, shortly past 1:00, I'm cleared to go. John works with Bernice to arrange transport back to the hotel. He's prepped the meds.
Back at the hotel, I return to my regular routine of med delivery and at 5:00, I call my parents to play some cards. They are surprised by the difference. I feel well enough to count trump. And my partner and I win at Pinochle. At least, that's my version.Meds, TPN and a good night's sleep. That's what I need.
[Gladys]
[Ethel]
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