Oh! Navy is my favorite color! And other drug-induced happenings from PCU.

Visitors
I had lots of lovely people who visited me while I was in the hospital.

My family, including mom, dad, Wendy, Misty, Erin, Ryan, Sheila, Sarah, Barry, Jayne and Janet all visited multiple times. Friends like Matt and Kelsey were constant fixtures. Other visitors included Courtney, Don, Jeamy, Catherine, Shantell and Rachel. If I’m leaving anyone out, I’m sorry. I was on drugs. I was on a whooooole lotta drugs.

Some things I remember: I remember being really pained and upset during some of the visits. I remember Kelsey holding my hand and kissing my forehead. I remember Jeamy and Catherine standing in the doorway, but I don’t remember talking to them. I remember my mom reading crossword puzzles out loud and me trying to guess words, falling asleep in the middle of trying to talk and her practically spelling them out to get me to figure out the answer.

One of my favorite visits was from Don and Courtney. They brought pizza and soda for my parents and Matt who had been stuck at the hospital with me. They also brought me a present. It was a very soft, navy-colored bathrobe. Instantly, I fell in love with it. I got so excited and gushed (imagine drug-induced gushing with long, drawn out words and half-closed eyes) about how much I loved it and how navy was my favorite color. Courtney still finds this hilarious, as I don’t own one single navy thing and everyone close to me knows my favorite colors are red and purple. But, man! At that moment, I looooooooved navy.

I remember toward the end, I had taken another pill and hit my morphine button quite a few times and just started zoning out. I apparently started talking to people who weren’t in the room with me and then went into drug paranoia when I realized I was talking to people who weren't there and I thought my visitors were all laughing at me, which now from the things they’ve told me I said, they should have been laughing. I started to get uncomfortable, so they left. A little bit later, I had dad throw out all the food they brought, as the smell was making me nauseous.

Which brings me to food
I don’t remember eating in ICU, but I kind of think I might have tried a popsicle on my last day. [Mom, let me know if that's right in the comments.] I definitely started eating again in PCU. As I said in my post last week, everything I would do was about passing time for me. Ordering and eating food was one more means to this end. I don’t remember ever actually wanting to eat, nor do I remember the frequency with which I ate. I’m not sure if I ate three times a day or less.

I would often order broth, mushed up fruit, cream of wheat or popsicles. In the beginning, broth was all I could have, as it is very hard for your digestive system to start operating properly after surgery. Popsicles were my favorite because I could zone out and practically fall asleep while eating them, just feeling them smush up in my mouth as I ground my teeth together (helloooo, drugs). That’s harder to do with broth. [Another question, mom, did you feed me or did I do it myself?]

Here’s the part only the people looking for information on what their hospital stay might be like will want to read, probably:

After every meal in the PCU, I would have to drink Miralax mixed with apple juice. I hadn’t eaten solid foods in almost a week and for some reason they really wanted me to have a bowel movement before I left the hospital. I remember starting to feel really full each day; as Dr. Nguyen warned, there was some distension and bloating. It would be days before a bowel movement would be likely, so they really pumped me full of this Miralax stuff.

Other necessities
My occupational therapist started visiting me in PCU each day to do more than just walk. Now I needed to learn how to take care of myself. My first day there, I had to get out of bed, walk with my walker to the sink and brush my teeth and wash my face. Sounds easy, right?

Except, I didn’t know how to use my arms anymore or bend over or stand right to do these things.

She helped me figure out how I could do this with my new body. For a long time, I wouldn’t have full-range of motion. I would slightly lean more over the sink, barely raise my arms (raising above shoulder height wasn’t allowed and felt bad; the goal is to keep your elbows down for now) and lower my head to try to brush my teeth, and then try to spit or let it dribble down and try to clean it up. Washing my face was a little easier. I just would wet the cloth and kind of lower my head and run the wash cloth over my face with my hand. This was all surprisingly hard and tiring to do. I would do all these things while she watched and gave me pointers on what all I could do to improve.

The most difficult things — learning how to shower, brush my hair, and get dressed — I would learn on my last day in the hospital- Jan. 19, six days after I showed up for surgery, crooked and ready for straightening.