The day started at 5 a.m. with such promise. My docs did their rounds and came to talk to me (yes, you read right, at 5 a.m.) and told me I'd be getting the constrast test done today to see if there actually is a hole in my stomach. I don't think there is and my whole problem was caused by the infected ascities. So I was eagerly anticipating getting some clear liquids for lunch or at least dinner.
I had my shower at 9:30 a.m., did a couple laps around the halls for exercise and then settled in to wait for them to come pick me up and take me for the test. With each hour I sat in my bed, my spirits sank lower and lower. By noon, I was anxious and irritable. By about 2:30 p.m. I was weepy, wondering what was taking so long and anxiously counting the hours until the department closed. By 5 p.m. when I was sure no other patients were making their way to radiology, I was bawling in my bed.
My nurse was great. She made numerous phone calls during the day to try to get answers. She was trying to help in any way. She came in shortly after 5 when I was a soggy heap on my bed and got a doctor to come see me.
Now, the doc I got isn't actually on my care team but was one of those who did the surgery on Thursday night. She sat down and asked what was the most frustrating part of the day. After tearing up, I said I was told I was having a test at 5 a.m. that would prove I don't have a hole in my stomach and then I could eat, drink and get my strength back so I could get better. I waited 12 hours with no answers and no test. She was understanding and sympathetic.
She explained there is one specialist who does this kind of test and he was gone for the day so I couldn't even get an emergency reading tonight. She explained the problem was a (stupid) lack of communication. The doc tried to call a member of my care team today (and they were very tied up with an important procedure or something today and therefore there were fewer of them to get back to this doc) to confirm why the test was being done. No one got back to him, so I didn't go down.
But the doctor assured me she would get my care team or personally make sure the test is scheduled for tomorrow morning. She asked me to be patient one more night. I can - and am - doing that. I'm really hungry though. I'd love some food and a nice glass of tasty juice. No quite honestly, I'd love some chicken pot pie but I have to start with clear liquids, remember.
I feel better because someone actually listenened to me. I felt I wasn't being heard. I was talking to the residents when they stopped by every morning, ask questions, ask them to stop back so they could talk to my sister, ask them to give me answers and then I'd never see them again until the next morning. I was beyond frustrated. But this doc listened to me and is actually doing something to make sure I get what I need.
I also learned they washed and washed and washed my abdomen during the surgery. I guess it was pretty full with the infection. I feel better about the whole getting cut open thing now that I know I was a bit of a mess in there. A dangerous and disgusting situation that is better off remedied through a good cleaning. Now I can get better.
Oh, and as for the picc line I'm supposed to get, apparently the list for that procedure is long too. So I didn't even get that today. I'm still blowing veins and they're having trouble drawing blood. The fact that didn't happen either contributed to the frustration. Nothing happened today. I sat around and waited, with no progress.
But I can be patient one more night. I feel I'm not only taking it one day at a time in here, but hour by hour. Let's hope the next 12 or so give me some answers - and then some food.
Tina
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