#25

My hand is feeling really sore from the attempted I.V. flush last night and I ask the day nurse about it.  She says that it should have been removed last night and proceeds to do so.  It’s such a relief to have that taken out of my hand. It’s still really sore and there’s a hard lump formed.

A different doctor is doing rounds this morning and after examining my abdomen he lets me know that all things considered, I might be going home today.  Halleluiah!  That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.  Because of this there’s another great piece of news.  I don’t have to get the Heparin injection. Yeah!  Now if only my bowel would do what it should, all the points will be in order.

I head out for another walk through the hall.  When I get back to my room there’s a notice posted on the doorway about a Contact Precaution.  Gowns, gloves and masks are required to enter the room.  Are you kidding me?  It seems that my new roommate is under quarantine because of her diarrhea; so what does that mean for me?  I share a room with this woman and I want to go home today not get quarantined.  I feel like I'm being harsh. It's not her fault but I’m frustrated and a bit angry.  What am I supposed to do?  Where am I supposed to be all morning? The doctor on duty suggests that I spend my time in the sun room at the end of the hall.  He can’t be serious. I even have to leave the ward and go out by the elevators to use a public bathroom.

Cleaning staff have been scrubbing and disinfecting for an hour and the nurse has drawn the privacy curtain between the two beds. Finally I’m allowed to go in to pack up my belongings.  As soon as the doctor signs the paperwork I’ll be allowed to leave . . . and I hope it’s soon.

Right after lunch the nurse tells me that I have been cleared to go home.  She gives me a speech about coming back to emergency if I have any bleeding, nausea, vomiting or several other conditions that I won’t remember as soon as I walk out of here.  It seems that because the doctor could hear gas rumbling around in my bowel during his examination that things were moving well enough for my release.  

When my nurse comes in a few minutes later I ask her the question that’s been eating me up inside.  “Is there any report on my pathology yet?  Do we know if I have to have chemo?”  She’ll check that for me and let me know as soon as she can.  When she returns I don’t see a beaming smile, but she’s not the one who really has to know about this.  “It’s still processing, so no answers yet.  It usually takes 2 to 3 weeks to get any results.”  Waiting is never easy!