Saturday, September 06, 2008

linda wants no part of tonight's hospital fare -- salisbury steak, and soggy veggies. the potatoes aren't bad tho.

she's been nibbling on pieces of pineapple, cottage cheese and sipping water. her little bandaged arm rises in the air and i pass her the sippy cup with the bendy straw.

we're stuck here for another night. at least we've got the window side of the room not that i've really enjoyed the view much.

been busy with bedpans.

i was curled up on the right corner edge of linda's bed around 3 am last night trying not to bump anything fractured bruised or missing skin, when linda says, i gotta go. i really gotta go.

so i get out the wretched bedpan and then i close the curtain cuz she says it helps her concentrate and override 49 years of socialization not to pee in bed

how's it coming?
it's not
is it coming now?

finally she breaks down around 3:30 am. she wants the evil catheter.

really? i say. a catheter? i'm not even sure how it works but it sounds awful and medieval. or like something out of that sally fields movie where the mother pounds the piano and shouts

hold your water! hold your water!

plus, i was in that weird sleepy daze, like when you're on an international flight and you wake up and it's light out and the person in the next seat is eating breakfast and you realize you're so far from where you were when you fell asleep.

you really want a catheter?

get elvira, get celia, she says, i want the catheter.

so i pad out in linda's blue hospital socks to the nurse's station. they're so sick of the sight of me.

she can't pee i tell the lot of them. she's been trying to pee for hours. and she can't.

is that your little assistant one says to Elvira as she gets up and comes over to me.

how long has it been since she peed, Elvira asks.
well we can't call for a doctor unless it's been 10 hours.

it has, it has i tell her. the last time was like 9 o'clock. she glances up at the clock.

okay, okay, i want to say -- so addition isn't one of my strengths -- can you please
drain her bladder. she's gonna blow.

Elvira follows me into the room where Linda lies on her back.

poor linda is rubbing her belly. Elvira puts on a rubber glove and rubs linda's belly. i reach over and rub linda's belly so as not to be left out.

how long has it been, elvira asks linda since you last peed. as soon as i see linda chew on the inside of her lip and look up to the ceiling, calculating the precise number of seconds, minutes, hours since her last piddle, i know she's gonna blow it.

and i am relieved.
unfortunately, linda is still not.

but, it's a day full of progress and now we've got her dangling her legs over the bed then sliding onto a four wheeler toilet with little handles. we fricking love that thing -- no more bed pans.

we may just double it as a walker and really get this show on the road.


Ippoc Amic said...

49 is my racing age. I have to say that Nurse Enid is the best. It would have been helll not having you here
next too me. And, not just for bed pan duty.

T. Marie said...

I hope Linda is doing OK. Great writing.

alicat said...

your writing style reminds me of david sedaris. you MUST listen to the story "Lesson 3 + 4" from the CD you got from me. Write back when you's a classic!

alicat said...

what i meant to say is that story from the CD is quite timely to what you and linda are going through with peeing. he's got just the solution you're looking for...

X Bunny said...

ok, just for future reference, i'm instituting a "no blogging about my catheter" rule

Anonymous said...

Love means never having to wonder who will change your bedpan...

wowzer. this just sux. big hugs to linda. hope that squeezes some pee out. maybe out her ears.

Ippoc Amic said...

Now I need to squeeze some other stuff out. Cool thing about getting old and knowing older people is borrowing their walker, crutches, and toilet seat raiser. Gross but true. Until my portable one comes in, we've made our toilet more manageble with my friends items. And, I'm getting an electric bed. Getting in and out of bed is more work than walking with crutches.

marscat said...

we are officially decrepit old bags...

gonna listen to DS ali...thanks.

LAUREN said...

ah, nurse enid.

is she wearing the nurse hat for you?

i guess i should be asking nurse enid, since this is her blog.

Eclectchick said...

Ouch. I'm so sorry. Linda's lucky to have you around for nursing - and comic relief.

suenago said...

You know, I can picture everything you are describing. Almost like I was there....

Denise said...

My thoughts are with the both of you.....take care.

marscat said...

my patient is getting better.

and is now walking around with a pedometer to count her steps...

today 39, tomorrow...

Ippoc Amic said...

262 steps