Yesterday most of the day I felt weak and sick. My friend came to visit in the late afternoon, and then Marvin came with a vegetarian sandwich. I ate half. After he left I felt a bit better, enough to go for a walk through the halls. It was the first time I was out of my room and even out of bed. It was the first day I spent mostly in bed, part of the time napping. It was ironic to notice that the noise level during the day was much lower than it is at night, which is so loud it even bleeds through the music I play through my headphones at night.
Again, I had my lung drainage bag in place from early morning for 12 hours, and it continued to drain continually. I don’t know whether the fluid in the lung is making me feel lousy, so I am hooked up again this morning to see how much fluid I will collect two days in a row.
Having that vegetarian sandwich was wonderful as they seem to be having difficulty here providing me with vegetarian choices. They give me tofu with cheese or sauce for three meals in a row followed by, the most recent three cheese sandwiches in a row, which are getting monotonous. I know they are trying, so I hate to be critical. Yet, after so many cheese sandwiches in a row, I can barely stomach seeing it on the tray. For the tofu meals they seem to warm it up, not sauté it or anything and cover it with some kind of sauce. I try to eat what I can but don’t get past a few bites.
I spoke with the PT manager about the therapist who did my session on Saturday. She was professional in her demeanor and did not say anything except that she would speak with that person. She did look concerned and perhaps a bit perplexed and displeased about the report. I told her how unhappy I was to be in the hallway touching the nasty railing to do my exercises and how I told that therapist about it yet she insisted I continue with my exercises there. The manager did not look pleased about that. Inside the gym they have parallel bars that could function easily as an assist for such exercises, plus I can’t believe the therapist would not have, at least, wiped down the railing before having me use it. Anyway, that’s done. I told the manager I did not want to have that person again even one more time for my last day there. Ironically, that therapist stopped by my room not long after the manager left to drop off copies of the products she told me about and where I can purchase them along with copies of information about prostate cancer and ovarian cancer though nothing about breast cancer. I think she is really off the wall.
I am hoping today is my discharge day. I am really planning on it. No one seems to be able to give me an answer, and I don’t know what to think about that. The nurse said it is usually in the chart, but my chart does not indicate a discharge date. I wonder if this is because I have not seen the rehab physician since I have been here. I don’t know whether he has to see me to write the order for my discharge. I am not the best at the waiting game, but I am trying not to be too impatient.5 6 7 8 © 2004–12 Donna Peach. All rights reserved.