I’d seen the Physician’s Assistant twice the day after my stent was put in.  Both times he did rounds, I was still in no shape to go home.  I was still relying on the morphine to manage the post-op  and left-over bile in the abdomen pain.  I was as weak as a newborn kitten and now had a lovely gut infection to contend with.  That evening during rounds he told us he’d be back in tomorrow, late morning, and would most likely discharge me.  I was elated!

My night nurse was wonderful that last night. She changed my IV and she chatted and was just generally a very nice woman.  After Treun left for the night she told me how wonderful my husband was.  This was not new.  I’d had quite a few of the nurses tell me this.  They seemed to be in awe of how he took care of me and advocated for me when I needed something.  I told her that he wasn’t my husband but that I hoped he’d be someday.  She asked how long we’d been dating and when I told her less than four months, I think she was in even more awe.  I told her how he’d been with me from the first ER trip through all the pain and agony and how he rarely left my side.  I greatly enjoyed gushing about Treun.

The next morning, a new doctor came in.  He introduced himself and told me that I was free to go home!  He said there was nothing more they could do for me at the hospital that I couldn’t do at home to recover.  He went over my discharge instructions and answered my questions.  He said he’d go out and get the discharge orders done right now and that I could go home as soon as my nurse came in.


I had the same nurse I’d had the day before so I knew I wasn’t going to go home any time soon.  I got dressed and gathered all of my stuff together.  I was ready to go home in about fifteen minutes since I was moving slowly.  I went out and saw my nurse sitting at the nurse’s station.  I signaled to her and told her I was ready to leave.  She told me she’d be in in a moment.  Another 30 minutes passed when I went back out.  She was still sitting in the same place.  I again got her attention and told her I wanted to go home. Now.

Another fifteen minutes passed when she finally came in and told me that she’d passed off my discharge to the charge nurse and that my paperwork would be ready in a few minutes.  Thankfully, she finally realized that she needed help and asked for it.

I got all my paperwork signed and then once again had to wait for my nurse to get a wheelchair so she could take me out.  This woman was moving too slowly for me and I was moving at a snail’s pace.  By the time she wheeled me out, it was almost two hours past the time I’d talked to the doctor about going home.  I was beyond done with the hospital and just wanted to get home.

Treun drove as carefully as he could as bumps and bends still hurt.  The children were happy to see me and I’m pretty sure they thought all would go right back to being normal again.  I know they don’t understand how very sick I was or how long recovery would take.  That is both a blessing and a curse.  No child should have to understand that about a parent yet if they did, they may have been a bit more sympathetic toward the fact that I was operating at about 5% of my normal.

I was home and had responsibilities.  The first order of business was to get to the grocery store.  Thankfully, I had Serenity drive and go in while I sat in the car.  She is old enough that she could purchase the few things we’d need for the next few days.  It wore me out just riding in the car.

Having secured ready-to-eat meals for the next two days, I could return home and start the hard job of healing.  It was going to be a long, slow road, but I was eager to start.  I was eager to be me again.

It just takes more time than I like to actually get there.


1 Comment


    1. The Road to Recovery | Hope Wears Heels

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