The Trip to the Hip

October 20th Part 2… “Is that all?”

My nurse came in to reattach the IV. “Do you have to pee, yet?” My answer was no. I had no urge at all which seemed odd to me because they had been pumping bag after bag of fluid into my arm. I pushed on my bladder to see if it felt full.  It did. But I still had not even an inkling of needing to relieve myself. She looked at me and scolded me like she was my mother, “You don’t want me to have to put that catheter back in now do you?” I smiled and then sighed.  I thought why is every little thing so complicated?

The nurse poked her head around the privacy curtain that hid the bed from view if the door was open. “Anything yet?” I shook my head. “Wanna try?” I relented and let her bring a bedpan, which turned out to be a shallow pink (OK mauve) triangular shaped bowl.  I thought how the heck does this work without getting very messy? Answer: It doesn’t.  She lifted the blankets and my lovely dressing gown and slipped the pan under my tush.

I looked at her with curiosity, “What if I miss?”

“I’ll clean you up.” she smiled. It must be weird to be used to wiping adults’ butts.

The pan was awkward and I felt my butt cheeks touch the bottom of it. How on earth am I supposed to pee without getting it one me, I thought. I tried to relax. I looked at the ceiling and thought about waterfalls, and faucets and getting a catheter put back in, when low and behold a trickle of liquid made it down and around my butt and into the pan. It wasn’t much, but maybe enough to hold off the catheter. I pushed the “help” button on the bedside controller, the one that also works the TV and the lights. The feeling of sitting in my urine was disturbing and I wondered why the nurse wasn’t coming to fetch the nasty thing out from under me. (OK, I know urine is sterile and clean, but still).

The nurse returned, “All done?” she said reaching for the pan with a towel in the other hand ready to catch the pee that would drip from my cheeks. I stayed arched as she wiped me clean (one must swallow all pride and sense of privacy when in a hospital).  She looked at the volume of my efforts. “Is that all?” she scowled like I was deliberately withholding my urine. “Well I don’t think this will be enough.  You have to pee.” She took the pan into the bathroom and dumped its minimal contents into the toilet. Apparently the powers that be also agreed I should have done better, because she returned not too long after with the promised catheter.  “Sorry,” she apologize while lifting up my gown and searching my privates for the place to insert the tube. (Remember that thing about giving up your dignity?) “Take a deep breath.” and as I did she shoved that tube up me until it felt like it was going to be in my stomach. “Maybe tomorrow.” she smiled and left.

Blood pressure still too low for meds.

Dinner once again stayed on the cart.