[img]958|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]“Re “Back in the ER, Part 2”
Dateline Boston — I asked for another bedpan, and it took me awhile to…let go. It’s very difficult to pee in a bedpan while lying flat down. After a few minutes, I asked to have the bed raised. That helped. I was so relaxed, and I had been filled with so much saline, I kept going and going, and going like the Energizer bunny. I’m gonna be brutally honest here — the bedpan overflowed a little.
I pressed the call button, and a new nurse came to get it, a man. He took the bedpan without a word. No one wiped me this time. I’m no diva. But when someone wipes you and you really appreciate it, and then no one does, well, you notice. When the next nurse arrived (I’ll call her Blondie), I told her I needed a little cleanup. Blondie talked in a singsong falsetto voice, with a condescending tone. She chirped, “Well, we wanna get you outta here, so why don’t you just get up, go to the bathroom, and clean up yourself!” She beamed at me. While she sat me up, she saw the tattoo on my back and squealed, “Wow! Look at that!” I felt like punching her.
She helped me up on one side, S.O. helped on the other. Together they guided me down the hall to the bathroom. I felt very woozy. Blondie said they would change my sheets while I took care of myself. It didn’t take long. So I shuffled back with S.O. pretty quickly. Suddenly, I felt nauseous. I said to S.O. “I’m gonna throw up! I’m gonna throw up!” I did — right there in the middle of the hallway. Everyone around me jumped back. Blondie hadn’t seen, and she breezed by. “How are you doing?” she asked, oblivious. She almost stepped in it. Sick as I was, I nearly cracked up. Mr. Nurse got me back to the bed, again without a word. He had the bedside manner of a brick wall. Somehow, they changed the sheets and me as I was lying back down on the bed.
I rested awhile more. As I rested, I thought about two things: childbirth and Michael Jackson. I wondered if childbirth was as painful as what I had gone through. I imagined it was. I thought about Michael Jackson, how he had supposedly needed medicine more powerful than what I had been given, just to sleep. So sad, so very sad.
And Away We Went
Finally, I was ready to be released. I signed some papers and got the proper name of Nice Nurse, who had been wonderful throughout my whole ordeal. S.O. got me ready by putting my pajamas, his tee shirt, and the hospital no-slip socks on. We got into a taxi and went home.
I took it easy for the next few days. When I returned to work, I felt pretty good. Two friends told me about a book on back pain and the mind-body connection. It talks about holding in your emotions and how it can affect your body via pain. I’m a believer.
Everyone keeps telling me that moving is on the top 5 list of stressors, right on up there with death of a spouse and divorce. I guess it is. S.O. told me that I had been holding it together pretty well, considering how big of a deal moving was. I told him that that was exactly the problem—holding it in. There’s nothing physically wrong with my back. If you have recurring back, shoulder or neck pain, check out “Healing Back Pain: The Mind-Body Connection,” by Dr. John Sarno. It’s worth a read, and it could get you thinking about your pain in a new way. It sure got me thinking. And talking. I’m feeling better already.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
