All Done

Well it seems like forever.  I have been itching and scratching to get back to typing on my keyboard. Being told that you are not in control was a powerful lesson that I am still trying to learn.  After coming out of a 5 hour procedure that was supposed to have taken 2 hours I was told that I was going home that day! What? I was flabbergasted and disgusted.  The first thing that flashed in my mind was the traffic – it was going to be close to 5 p.m. by the time I was released and I knew that meant me sitting in traffic for hours and hours.  It meant that I would inconvenience my girlfriend and that I would not be allowed to rest.  Rest is something I was so looking forward to.  Resting alone in a hospital room being catered to and poked and prodded yet I would be alone.  Not having to talk to anyone if I didn’t want to. Now I was being told that I was being released. Almost as if I had been doing time in some prison somewhere and they announced that I would be allowed to go home.  Where would I go, who would feed me, where would I get my clothes and could I ever get a job and take care of myself?  All of those feelings that an inmate must feel, I felt that I felt them also.  Kind of strange but so true.  After having a crying, whining episode in the hospital with RNs, aides and a surgeon staring at me with that ‘oh baby it’ll be ok look on their faces’, I cried some more.  Then I came to my senses and asked where were my glasses and demanded that I need to have my medicine for my psoriasis.  I must’ve told them that a million times.  They didn’t see the need to rush around and look for either and actually didn’t even appear to care.  My RN began walking away from me very slowly and asking in a loud voice if  anyone was given a pair of glasses for her patient.  No one cared and no one responded.  They were all busy with their other ‘coming-down-off-of-anesthesia-patients-who-were-acting-unreasonable-over-what-they,the-staff-considered-to-be-nothing.’  It wasn’t nothing to me – you see, if I can’t see, I can’t hear nor concentrate because I must have my vision to focus on your words.  Kind of wierd if you don’t wear glasses; however, if you do, and wear them all of the time like I do – you understand what  I mean, don’t you?

Finally I was released into the care of my aunt.  On the way home in the car, we had to pull over because I became nauseas.  I found out later that even though she has been working in the medical profession her entire career, the one thing that brings her to her knees is the sight of vomit.  Not blood and guts, not bones broken and head and stomach wounds but vomit.  She is completely paralyzed by it.  Fortunately for me and for everyone on that road that day, she was able to pull over, I got out and nothing came up – it was just the feeling of coming that one gets when it is almost right there at the top of your throat waiting.  Then it goes away. 

The lesson I learned is that I am not in control of everything.  As much as I made sure that the kids were in order, my house was in order, my job was in order and my order was in order – it wasn’t. Well, now I don’t mean that it wasn’t – everything was in order that I could control – my kids, the job, my house – now the things I couldn’t control was the entire hospital experience.  That was in the hands of the hospital people.  Timing and staffing and just good-natured humanity was in their hands. I can say that my first experience checking in that morning was beautiful. My girlfriend and I walked into the hospital and were met with cheery maintenance men at 6 a.m., happy security guards at 6 a.m., cheery other patients at 6 a.m. and a wonderful RN male with one of the best and warmest personalities this side of the Mississippi.  I would give him the nurse of the year award.  He was by far the friendliest and warmest and the funniest that a man could be at 6a.m. and we had not slept together – just funny!  He was there before all of the other rn’s were.  He was on time and ready to work.  He was there to make you feel comfortable in a situation where discomfort is to be expected. He is an RN’s RN. We need more of these kind of men with 2 first names.  He was not in my control however he was in my control.  What I mean by that is that I surround myself with those who have vision, who have focus, who want to do and be and continue to grow.  He was that kind of person.  He lightened the mood. His ability to make all of us going into surgery that morning feel so comfortable – made the end, the check out procedure from the hospital more tolerable. 

 When I was given the choice at the very end by the surgeon who insisted that I would do better at home over and over again, and the RN who continued to assert that my family did care about me and I should let them help me and hearing that over and over again and after them seeing me fall apart finally the surgeon and the RN said you can stay if you want to – in that high-pitched voice that you hear women squeal whenever a baby comes into the office.  I was even more disgusted.  My mind raced back and forth about what to do, stay or go, stay or go, stay or go. Remember I had just come out of surgery about 2 hours before this and was still drugged from the anesthesia, I was in no condition to make such a decision.  I remember saying that you guys don’t want me here and I don’t want to be here because it is too negative.  I opted to leave.  I am glad I did.  Even high on some pretty powerful drugs,  having had a laparoscopic hysterectomy and a sling, I was still able to realize that this situation was not of my control however it was also one where I did not need to be. 

I removed myself from them so that I could go to a place where my comfort lies.  My home, my peeps and my family. My children were being taken care of by a woman who I call my mother-in-law and even they had their own control. I would come to find out the next day that my middle son, the chef, asked my mother-in-law,  they call her grandma. Grandma what are you doing here, we don’t need a babysitter we are too old for that? She said she responded, well can I just spend the night then? And he said Yes.  Retiring at 55 and writing away.  Not bad for someone whose control is well, limited, to what one can control.

Yolande Barial

Inspirational, sensual and on-purpose

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