Can I just say...

(Editors Note:  Whining alert.  Don't proceed if you don't have any cheese and crackers available.  Thought about not posting this because there is a lot of sniveling involved and the rational part of me knows things really aren't that bad and could be a whole lot worse.  But here it is because, it is what it is.)

Sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks, typing through the blur, and wishing things were different.  Today is Day 15 and can I just say I'm tired of it.  Tired of it all.  Tired of beeping pumps that take forever to get turned off.  Tired of meal trays being sent to my room that I DIDN'T order.  Tired of describing the color and texture of what I'm coughing up!  It's the same people...green/yellow and thick.  Believe me, you'll be the first to know when it changes. Tired of hearing "I can't find your orders for D-nase."  Uhhh, maybe because I don't take the stuff...sorry to disappoint you but D-nase doesn't do a darn thing for me so I choose not to waste my time breathing it in.  Tired of hearing "Your lungs sound clear!"  from nurses, RT techs, and even the glucose management team who listen to me.  Yes, things do tend to sound clear when your airways are not open enough to let the junk move around.  The doctors can hear and know the difference.  I can feel the difference.  Tired of stethoscope wielding people, period.  Next person who says, "Do you mind if I take a listen to your lungs?" just might get an earful of  "Yea, I do mind.  Go away!."  Along the same vein, "Take a deep breath for me."   Are you kidding me?  If I could do that, I wouldn't be here.  Do you really want to wait for 5 minutes for the coughing spasm to stop so you can continue to listen to me breathe in and out?  Because I do sound clear FYI.   Tired of reporting every bowl movement with its accompanying consistency description.  Tired of saying thank-you hundreds of times a day for every thing that people do for me.  I am grateful for their help, I am.  I want to be a nice patient because I want them to want to take care of me.  But I'm tired of being nice.  Tired of asking for blood sugar checks and then having to tell them they don't need to push hard because I'm a good bleeder.  Those darn finger sticks can go to the bone it feels like.  When the CNA rubs the alcohol wipe long and hard enough to erase your fingerprints, you know your poor finger doesn't stand a chance.  Clearly, they will not be the insightful person to grasp the concept of easing up.  Tired of nighttime saline boluses that turn me into Old Faithful--every hour and a half the pressure builds and even ambien can't stop that force of nature.  Maybe I'm just tired.

Whew, I just realized the tears are done.  I wonder if I can bill myself for my own therapeutic rant.  I feel lighter.  I feel better.  I believe I'll even be able to say thank you when the lunch I didn't order arrives in my room...again.