Oct. 15, 2013
But, during recovery I had to pee. They wouldn’t let me sit on the toilet.
I’m in handcuffs with shackles on my legs, and it was very difficult as I’d just come out of the surgery.
I felt something running down my leg, and thought I’d had an accident because of the aesthetics,
but it was blood – in rivulets, and it wouldn’t stop…
just like that time ten years ago when I had the toncillectomy and we were in the ER,
and you had the baby in the carrier, and you just sat in the floor and starting to pray, holding CW in your arms, I guess he was not quite two then, and all of the doctors were dabbing swabs, nurses yelling, my blood won’t stop, and you’re there, eyes closed, praying for me. I felt you there.
I tried to sit down on the bed, but the chains wouldn’t let me reach far enough, so I had to scoot and lean back while the nurses kept yelling and pushing buttons, screaming for help, pushing all manner of cloths, sponges; whatever against the incision, working to get the flow to stop. I started to lose consciousness, but it’s like I was floating.
They were all in slow motion as I lay on the bed, and they called the ER doctor back, getting ready to wheel me back to the OR and see what happened,
and then it just stopped.
Just like before. They decided to keep me there overnight, just in case something else happened. My nurse was a man, and he took very good care of me, and then a woman, who was also nice. She stayed by me, assuring me that she was going to stay right there, over and over. The next day, they shipped me back to the prison. Compared to prison, the hospital food was so good, and I can’t even imagine any more what your food tastes like, it’s been so long since I’ve had anything home made.
But, know that I am fine, and the Lord sent good people to take care of me in the surgery. They said that if that episode had happened at the prison, it would not have turned out so well because of now being in seg. It reminded me of mom being in and out of the hospitals so many times, and how she had to suffer all of that alone because I was in here. I knew Jesus had been with her, and also with me, as He has been so many other times in my life. I just never gave the praise to God for getting me out of so many fixes.
Anyway, I got wheeled up to the medical unit here at the prison, and everyone here knew what had happened to me. R is a big man, and a good guard, with common sense. He allowed me to get three pillows for some small comfort, as well as an extra sleeping mat. I couldn’t get a handicap cell, but I did get an ice pack, thank God, for the swelling. They thought the hernia was going to be about and inch long, but it ended up being more than 5. I had let it go too long because we had talked about not letting anyone cut on me here, but I just couldn’t go any longer with it hurting like it did.
My bed is as high as my hip, so it is very hard to manuever, and there are no handles anywhere to help me get up, and the toilet is very low. It hurts real bad, but I am making do. I am getting some pain meds, but they wear out every four hours. I can’t get in the bed, I have to step on top of two lunch trays, and I’m afraid I might fall. Then what?
They will be very slow to come in here, so I must be very careful. I need to sleep, I’ve been up over one day, but there is no way to get rest like this in here.
I’ll be alright. You know me. I sure do miss all of that attention you used to give me, and I’ve always whined when it comes down to pain. I love you, and I’ll be OK….