Hospital

My time in the hospital was full of so many emotions. I was in so much pain, and not responding to the drugs, that they thought I might be a drug addict--I'm not.

Even the blow up mattress they used on top of my hospital mattress to relieve my pain felt like knives cutting into my back.

Most of the time I was burning up from the heat of my body trying to heal, but occasionally I would wake up shaking from the cold and would have to call out for help to turn the AC down. 

My poor husband was happy they let him stay in the room with me all 9 nights (on a bench), but I don't think I let him get much rest.

One night I spent the entire night trying to get out of bed to use the bathroom (I had a catheter in, so I'm not sure why I thought I needed to do this). I think the fact that I couldn't get up on my own really upset me. Both my arms were in casts, since I'd broken fingers on my good hand as well, so I was incapable of using my arms at all and I felt so helpless.

One night I had a dream that it was our anniversary (it was pretty close) and that we were staying in an exotic hotel in the dessert. Because I was hurt, my hospital bed was in the hotel lobby, and I was so upset that our anniversary was ruined.

Another night I dreamt I was running down a dock near where we had rented a house in Mexico. I was almost skipping or dancing as I waved my arms in the air. When I woke I was so sad to lose that free feeling I had in my dream.

The therapist there was like an angel to me. She would check in on me regularly, and made sure the nurses were gentle with me. She even helped wash my hair to make me feel better. I'll never forget her kindness.