The machine across the room may as well have been screaming “jail break!” My dad jolted awake and out of his chair yelling “What? What’s happening? Nurse! Dr. M! Get your asses in here!” Aphrodite came bursting in the room and I could see the annoyance on her face when she saw the empty bed and pulse ox on the floor. She crossed her arms, looked at me, and raised one eyebrow, looking smug. I just stood there looking sheepish gripping my IV cart for balance because the sudden leap from the bed had made me dizzy. Maybe that’s the reason you’re not supposed to get out of bed alone? I tried to make her laugh by nodding at the pulse ox machine and muttering “nark” but she was not amused.
Once I got back in bed Aphrodite made sure everything was hooked back up and that all alarms were turned on. I slumped in defeat. My little escape attempt had moved me from flight risk to the no fly zone. The word catheter had even been thrown around as an alternative to getting up to use the restroom since it seemed that I didn’t like to use the call button. I hung my head like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and said that that wouldn’t be necessary I would be sure to page someone the next time I needed anything.
Looking back I know that my nurse had only my safety and well-being in mind and I’m sure I made her life more difficult that night but I don’t think anyone abides uselessness very well. Two weeks ago if I had woken up in the middle of the night I would have rolled out of bed used the restroom, gotten a glass of water, and fallen back under the covers. Piece of cake. Now I had tubes coming out of my arms, packing in my face, dried blood in my hair and I had to have someone help me put my feet on the floor. What had happened? How did I get here? How do I get back?
I tried clicking my compression boots three times but mine must have been defective because nothing happened.