It's been a long haul.
Let's see - a week of radiation followed by a stem cell transplant.
Two weeks in the hospital.
Almost two weeks home now.
Whew!
You know, the radiation treatments were two hours a session, twice a day, for four days. I was in and out of that claustrophobia-inducing gadget more than a drunken rabbit on a viagra overdose.
Then I was admitted to the hospital because I had a fever. The doctors were worried about infection. Little did I know I'd be there for two weeks.
Too much time in a hospital can play tricks on your mind. For example, I kept wanting to call the disembodied voice at the other end of the call-button "Base Commander". Must have been the drugs - or that I'd loaded up on several seasons of Battlestar Galactica before my stay. I resisted the urge.
And I loved it when the nurse would come around at 11pm after I'd fallen into a deep sleep at 8pm to tell me "Time to wake up and take your sleeping pills."
The weirdest thing that happened had to do with a little case of constipation. The nurse gave me some "special" pills and told me "We're gonna give you a hat that we want you to use when you go to the bathroom". And I thought, "Now why would I wear a hat sitting on the toilet?"
Turns out this is a clear plastic affair that sits on the back of the bowel to catch your "sample". Hospitals love samples: blood samples, urine samples and, yes, pooh samples.
After several days, victory was mine. And I was able to push that call-button and proudly announce, "Base Commander, I have pooped in your hat!"
Let's see - a week of radiation followed by a stem cell transplant.
Two weeks in the hospital.
Almost two weeks home now.
Whew!
You know, the radiation treatments were two hours a session, twice a day, for four days. I was in and out of that claustrophobia-inducing gadget more than a drunken rabbit on a viagra overdose.
Machine with which I had an intimate relationship.
Then I was admitted to the hospital because I had a fever. The doctors were worried about infection. Little did I know I'd be there for two weeks.
Too much time in a hospital can play tricks on your mind. For example, I kept wanting to call the disembodied voice at the other end of the call-button "Base Commander". Must have been the drugs - or that I'd loaded up on several seasons of Battlestar Galactica before my stay. I resisted the urge.
And I loved it when the nurse would come around at 11pm after I'd fallen into a deep sleep at 8pm to tell me "Time to wake up and take your sleeping pills."
The weirdest thing that happened had to do with a little case of constipation. The nurse gave me some "special" pills and told me "We're gonna give you a hat that we want you to use when you go to the bathroom". And I thought, "Now why would I wear a hat sitting on the toilet?"
Turns out this is a clear plastic affair that sits on the back of the bowel to catch your "sample". Hospitals love samples: blood samples, urine samples and, yes, pooh samples.
After several days, victory was mine. And I was able to push that call-button and proudly announce, "Base Commander, I have pooped in your hat!"
Comments
Hospitals. Ack. They never let you rest!
Glad your home and hope the news stays well and you too!
And your experience puts a whole new meaning on "keep it under your hat." Also on "hat trick." Also on "throwing your hat in the ring," although I presume the hospital would have been annoyed if you'd done that.
Hospitals are no place for sick people.
Am on the mend and hope you are too.
My daughter is an RN working nights. She hates that she has to wake up patients. I can never understand why the only time the hospital staff vacuums is in the middle of the night.
Take care.
Stay well!
Good for you!
Welcome back, Dufus!
:-)
Ms. Thirty-Something
I was in the hospital for three weeks in 2006 and I remember how frightening it was too be so helpless and dependent on "the kindness of strangers."
I think they made me poop in a hat, too. Personally, I think we were both being punked and they were taking bets on whether we'd actually do it or not.
Sending my well wishes...
That didn't make any sense at all. I should just go poop in a hat.
But I have to ask: Was it a French-Canadian hospital, and did they actually call your "hat" a "Cha-poo?"
Did I glow enough for you to see me from Colorado?
My name is Jean and I’m a volunteer with the National Bone Marrow Transplant Link. Our organization helps patients, caregivers, and families cope with the social and emotional challenges of transplant by providing vital information and personalized support services. We subscribe to Google blog alerts, where we found your story.
Please know that others are thinking of you and pulling for you! To learn more about our programs and services, please visit www.nbmtlink.org or call 800-546-5268.
All the best!
Hospitals are no place for sick people.
Am on the mend and hope you are too.
That didn't make any sense at all. I should just go poop in a hat.