A Funny Thing Happened – Part 3

So.  Turns out I didn’t just “break” my collarbone, but smashed it into 4 nice little pieces.  The doctor told me that this would be an extremely painful injury, which made me feel better since I was blubbering like a baby.  The doctor and nurse who were on call at the Almonte Hospital that night were THE best!  They made me feel so much better (and not just with the drugs).  At one point I lifted my head and slurred at them, “I just love you guys”!  I meant it as an expression of gratitude, but I really ended up sounding like a drunken frat boy.

Anyway, I was told I would have to see a surgeon to have my bone repaired and they said they had made an appointment for me on Thursday.  Thursday.  It was Saturday.  And what was I supposed to do in the meantime?  That’s what, 5 days!!  “Just try not to move too much”, they said. Oh ok.  Well, that was the doctor’s orders and believe me I followed them pretty much to the letter.  Jenn drove me home and I crawled into my bed and said, “I am going to sit here and not move until Thursday”. Ow, ow, ow.  Sitting hurts.  Ok, laying. OW, OW, OW!  Laying is so much worse!  And that’s how it went, from Saturday night to Thursday, I sat there trying not to move too much.  It is very hard to sleep sitting up.  My dear sweet hubby had to be my nurse.  He did a great job. Amazing. And somehow we made it to Thursday.

Jake took me to the hospital for my appointment.  I was very nervous.  I was afraid the doctor was going to try and touch my collarbone.  That was a big no-no.  I didn’t even want the pressure of his eyes on it, forget his pokey fingers.  (I literally shiver at the thought)!  Then I met him.  Wowza.  He was hot.  His name was Dr. Phan, but we’ll call him Dr. Phan-tastic.  Not many people know this, but I have a special thing for good looking men of the “Asian Persuasion”, and the good Dr. Phan just jumped right to the top of my lust, I mean list.  “Oh, you want to see my injury?  Well let me just rip all my clothes off”.  Well, it didn’t go exactly like that.  But he did book me for surgery, so that’s kind of like a second date, right? I spent a miserable few days back in my bed until, finally, I got the call to go in and get put back together. 

And thus began my decent through the seven circles of Hell.

When Jake started his most recent job and we sat down to discuss his medical plan, we decided that coverage for a shared hospital room would be sufficient.  This was the first time, believe it or not, that he had ever had to actually pay into his medical plan and we were shocked at how expensive it was.  I figured, I’ve had my children, I can’t imagine any reason why I would ever need a hospital room again.  (I am shaking my head at my own naiveté).  So we bought into the shared room plan.  

When we got to hospital I was assigned to what I refer to as “Room 666”.  My roommate was sleeping so I kissed my hubby and my precious babies goodbye at the door and went in alone.  As I sat on my bed waiting for the nurses to get me all checked in, my roommate, Satan, started moaning and groaning.  Then she started cursing and swearing and carrying on about how she had to pee and, “screwthemgoddambasterswhodidn’tcomeandhelpherthosemotherfuckerswillgetwhatcommingtothemIhavetopee”,etc, etc.  Wow.  Nice lady.  Lucky me.  Finally I peeked over to her side of the curtain and asked her if she needed any help.  Apparently she had to pee and had buzzed the nurse 3 hours earlier to help her,  but the nurse never came.   I can’t imagine why.  She was so nice to be around.  Now a non-psychotic person would probably just press the call button again, but not Satan.  I think she physically sustained herself on a steady diet of bitching, and believe me, she was pigging out!  I reached over and pressed her call button for her and low and behold, a nurse arrived to help her pee.  All the rest of that afternoon I had to listen to her bitch out the nurses, orderlies, food delivery people and cleaning staff.  She was, hands down, the most miserable, nasty, horrible person I had ever met and after 4 hours of listening to her I wanted to take my broken bones home and just forget the whole thing.

Now, I have bad days like everybody else.  I can be cranky and out of sorts and short tempered, but overall I think I am a fairly pleasant person.  I treat people nicely and I’m friendly.  Apparently Satan did not appreciate my treating the hospital staff courteously.  In her opinion the nurses liked me and answered my call button because I was a, “suckasslittlesuckup”.  Hm.  Did I mention that she was the Devil incarnate? I probably heard that about 100 times during my stay.  I really wanted to go home, but finally it was time for my second date with Dr. Phan-tastic.

 The good doctor and is equally handsome anesthesiologist explained to me about all the possible negative side effects of the surgery and I explained to them how they would not do any of those things to me and then they began.  For the first time in a week I was blissfully, painlessly asleep.

It didn’t last.  Before I knew it I was back in room 666 with the Devil woman.  Satan did not shut up all night long.  Screaming and hollering and cursing everyone in sight.  I have never met anyone who had to pee so much!  At about 2 in the morning she started wailing again.  She had to pee and the nurse just wasn’t coming fast enough.  Finally she decided to get up on her own.  Sigh.  I told her to just wait.  I told her the nurse would be here in a minute.  I told her to be patient.  But nobody tells Satan what to do.  She starts trying to get up on her own. “Idon’tneedthosemotherfuckershelpingmetheydon’tknowanythinggoddambastardaregonnapayfortreatingmethisway”, blah, blah, blah, BAM!  Satan’s miserable ass lands on the floor.  I reached for my buzzer and called the nurse. 

Apparently it’s a big deal when someone falls out of bed.  Before I knew it there were 5 nurses in the room all taking abuse from the devil woman and trying to help her pee.  She unloaded on them like a hurricane, screaming and yelling and cursing.  Now, let me digress for a moment.  I am not a patient person.  Just ask my family.  I have no patience.  None.  So you can imagine the amount of restraint I had must have been using all day long in dealing with Satan.  I was tired.  I was in pain.  And I had just barfed on my nurse.  I had had it.  So when Satan started screaming at the nurses, “whatda ya want me to do? whatta ya want me to do?”, I told her very precisely what I wanted her to do.  I screamed at the top of my lungs, “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD!!!!!!!!!!!”

The entire floor of the hospital went silent.  Our room was like a tomb.  The nurses got her finished up and put her back to bed and all but one left.  After a few minutes Satan rolled over and tried to make nice.  “Are you ok over there?” she asked.  I very testily told her to shut up and go to sleep at which point she turned to her nurse and said, “Well.  Obviously she has mental problems”.

Obviously.

Stay tuned for Part 4!