Since it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, I exercised mine and checked myself into the Bed and Breakfast on Friday afternoon. Got a room with a view but that’s about all it had. My television displayed a remarkable resemblance to Close Encounters of the Third Kind—fuzz and static. My dear husband jiggled with the cords and managed to get most of the channels viewable. Yippee for technologically smart spouses! Every nurse, respiratory tech, and CNA thought they knew and could fix the problem but no one was successful. Finally maintenance made an appearance the next day and now all is well in my bed-potato world.
When it was time to order my dinner, I realized I had no phone. At first I thought I’d lost my mind because who forgets where the phone is, especially when you’ve spent as much time in this place as I have. Yep, since a phone call equals room service (and I use that term liberally) there was no way to talk to a “nutritional assistant” and get my 45 minute wait for food started. Argh.
While waiting for my dinner delivery, I decided to get out of the room and take a leisurely stroll around 9th West. My IV pole had a totally different idea. Just like my uncanny ability to pick out the spastic cart at the supermarket, I found myself saddled with a less-than-stellar IV pole. Trying to move this thing along the carpeted hallway while simultaneously pulling an oxygen canister behind me would have been comical if it wasn’t so stinkin’ hard to breathe. With this thing dragging me down, I envisioned myself becoming “The Hermit of 914.” Luckily the next day a terrific nurse hijacked a made-in-this-decade pole saving myself from a sequestered existence.
Just when I thought I’d discovered all the deficiencies of my room, darkness came and I found out I had no control over my source of light. For some reason my bed controls were not working properly and I couldn’t turn my lights off or on. Come on. Was the last resident of this room deaf, blind, and comatose??!!
They’ve put me on a 3 drug combination: vancomycin, tobramycin, and doripenem. Because of my recent vanco “red man problem,” I am continually attached to my IV line. No time off for good behavior.
Now I must say my behavior was exemplary until this morning. I woke up about 7:15 a.m. with a twitchy cough. Five minutes later my lungs were bleeding. Scary. I’ve never managed to display my hemoptosis skills while being an inpatient before. I was hoping to make a speedy exit from this place and continue the fun at home but that isn’t looking too good at this point. Now they’ve upped my prednisone to 120 mg per day and I’m in for an emotional rollercoaster ride—gotta love how steroids mess with your brain chemistry. Hanging in there so far.