#21 Sep 19^th Noon

Now that I don’t have a catheter I get to heave myself out of bed to go to the bathroom all by myself.  What a great way to make sure I don’t stay in bed and that I get a bit of exercise too. To this end I learn how to unhook and remove the special leg massage units. The nurse tells me that I have to measure my fluid output for a while and provides me with a white plastic measuring bowl with a wide sombrero-like brim.  This sits under the toilet seat and catches everything so I can record it.  There is a whiteboard on the wall at the foot of my bed.  Here the staff displays the date, the nurse’s first name and any special instructions.  This is where I am to write down how much I produce and at what time I collect it. It feels odd to have to do this, but, as with so many other things happening now, it is needed.

My roommate is a young woman that has recently had an ileostomy done.  That is where her bowel is connected to a bag that hangs on the outside of her body.  Suffering from Crohn's disease, she has had several operations to remove different parts of her colon, advancing upward each time. After talking to her about her experiences from the tender age of 12, I should feel incredibly lucky.  What do I have to complain about? Just cancer.

Today the doctor that did her operation stops at my bed on his way out.  He informs me that he’ll be checking on me since my doctor is at a conference in Ottawa for a few days. He points to the massage pants. “Get rid of those!  They tie you to the bed too much.  You don’t need them now.”  He’s right, of course, but he could have been nicer about it.  I feel like I’m going to burst into tears but I don’t let it show, I just smile at him. ‘Come on, Jude!  He didn’t mean to pick on you.  Snap out of it.’  I seem to be so emotional now.

I hit the morphine pump, take the massage pants off and sit my bed upright. Sliding off the edge, I grab hold of the I.V. pole, and brace myself to go for a walk.  Before I leave the room I slip a second gown over my shoulders, like a cape, to cover my bottom.  I can put on some under wear, but the back of me still wants to be covered.