I appreciate your patience while I got things on my new computer up and running. It’s taken me a while to get used to the new system and, now that there’s a computer sitting on my desk again, my kids have been anxious to take part in the entertainment its existence allows. Needless to say, that means the housework has been getting backed up. So, no, I haven’t been ignoring you and I haven’t forgotten the story I was telling you about my life. I promise. However, please bear in mind that school is ending this week, which is likely to throw my production schedule off a bit while I reorganize things.
So, apologies! Check!
So, I’d been told that I was being discharged Friday morning and I was having difficulty doing the one thing I needed to do more than anything. Sleep! I wasn’t interested in putting myself to sleep with television as I frequently did at home. I wanted to be awake when it came time to go home. Not knowing what else to do, I called DJ and asked if I could have some of that Tylenol 3. After that, I was able to sleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I realized I’d just made a dreadful mistake. I had a large headache, was nauseous and dizzy and all those other nasty side effects I’d asked them to stop the Tylenol 3 for in the first place. However, I went ahead and rather grudgingly ate breakfast. I wanted to puke, but I didn’t. My mother arrived later. She brought papers with her from the hospital’s financial department. They had learned that I had no insurance. So, they were going to help get me set up with something very temporary, just to pay the hospital bill. All I had to do was jump through a few hoops on paper and sign my name.
Next my mother packed up all the things that I had been brought during my stay in the hospital, from things the Arby’s staff brought me to things the hospital gave me, not to forget the get well card my branch president from church brought. It was mostly hospital stuff. Everything I had used, with the exception of needles and my hospital clothing, was going home with me. My mother brought me some clean clothing to wear and I had some difficulty getting it on over the bulky fabric of the “brace” the doctor had put on my leg, which consisted mainly of large amounts of gauze, some medical tape and a strange mesh sleeve. I was given lots more of these things and told to change my bandage regularly.
While the nurse was telling us this, I was thinking, Go away! Go away! I don’t want to talk to you! I just want to go home! and trying very hard not to throw up because I thought, if I did, they’d want to keep me. She also gave us an appointment with the osteopath that had set my leg (he wanted to check and see that it was healing properly) and a prescription for Tylenol 3 for the pain, which she had thoughtfully filled for us at the hospital pharmacy (how nice). When the nurse was gone, I told my mother I didn’t want the awful stuff and she should “throw it down the toilet.” She promised me she would when we got home. The nurse returned shortly thereafter with a wheelchair and I got a nice ride with my huge, plastic bag of stuff and my new crutches down the elevator and out the front to my mother’s car, which was waiting for us in the hospital’s pick-up loop.
Rather than go straight home, my mother drove up into the Arby’s Drive-Up so that they would know I was out of the hospital. As pleased as I was to be visiting my work, I was unhappy, too. Mainly because Arby’s was built right next to a Kentucky Fried Chicken and the smell from the place was making it really hard to keep from seeing my breakfast a second time. Anyway, pretty much everyone who had ever worked with me at Arby’s had come to visit me in the hospital, even the general manager. So, for a while, everyone was crowding the drive-up window wanting to wish me a speedy recovery.
Finally, my mother took me home and, because me getting up the stairs to my bedroom was laughable at best, I spent the next six months sleeping on my parents’ hide-a-bed in the living room.
How about you? Have you ever made a crucial mistake right before going home from the hospital? Did the hospital ever give you drugs that you immediately got rid of? Tell me! I want to read YOUR story.