I Am Not A Table

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind the occasional items being set down on me now and then for a minute or two. I do it myself, setting a pen down on my chest so I don't drop it while I grab a kleenex or something like that.  It's okay to set a clean cotton ball on my gown while you do my finger stick to check my blood sugar, for example, since I know that in a minute you're going to grab that cotton ball and clean my finger with it.  All that is fine.  

What I take exception with is being used like a table where multiple items are set on me, some of them I would consider unclean, and then left that way.  I'm talking the disposable cap from the blood draw needle kit, empty wrappers from alcohol wipes, wet dirty wash cloths forgotten about after my sponge bath, rubber tourniquets left under my arm, or pillows moved onto my legs so you can sit in my bedside chair and left there sitting on me after you leave.  When that happens I feel objectified, and not in that almost flattering, feel like an attractive woman sort of way.  Objectified in a way that makes me feel like you see me as an object, like a table or a chair where you can put things you want to get out of your way, and that's not okay with me.  There is not just a bed here, there is a person; a person who can't reach the chair to put the pillows back and can't always access the trash can to dispose of your trash and certainly doesn't want to touch anything unclean without the benefit of the gloves you get to wear when you touch them.  I don't want to point any fingers here, but nurses and aides and even doctors are generally not guilty of these indiscretions, so...uh...dietary and bloodsucking lab techs....*cough*...you know who you are...

And while we're already bitching, let me add this on the subject of finger sticks:  the closer to the tip of the finger, the more it hurts.  If you must stick the tip of my finger, for pete's sake don't press so freaking hard.  Or better yet, stab the softer, cushioned finger pad instead of the tip in the first place.  Pinkies bleed really good there, and don't hurt much, compared to the painful purple bruises you are leaving on the tips of my ring and middle fingers.  Yes, I'm talking to you, occasional 3am and 6am finger stick girl (but not the one who showed me her beautiful decorated cake photo - you are gentle and good at finger sticks!).  You, fingertip girl, are making this twice as painful as it needs to be.  I asked you once to start sticking further from the tip and you either forgot or disregarded it, so next time I'm going to ask you to let me do the stick myself.  That is all.

(All the bitching, anyway)

On to medical updates.  I've begun to experience the beginnings of radiation side effects.  My esophagus, irritated by radiation, is occasionally swollen or inflamed, giving me the feeling that something I've swallowed is stuck in it, although nothing is actually there.  It's becoming painful to swallow pills, and my giant fish oil pill is almost impossible to choke down now.  By the end of this week it is projected that my esophagitis will be notably worse and it will continue to worsen until the end of my 28 radiation treatments.  It will take a couple of weeks after radiation is done to heal up, I'm told.  I now have a numbing mouthwash I can drink when I want it, right before meals, that helps numb my esophagus, but after trying it a few times I'm postponing it until the pain gets more intolerable, since it makes my food seem even more tasteless and unappealing after it numbs my tongue on the way to my throat.  My appetite is quite poor, and I sometimes dismiss my unappealing food in favor of a quick protein drink I can force down to satisfy my calorie needs without having to struggle to eat food I'm not in the mood to eat.  For those keeping track, I am three pounds away from having lost fifty pounds since August 2011.  Probably get there by the end of this week if the trend continues.  I might be starting to get a little fatigued as well.

Today in therapy I was able to pull up my pants (in bed) with only one person helping, and they only helped roll my hips, not pull up the pants, which dramatically improves the score I'll receive for that skill.  We also did several sliding transfers from wheelchair to bed and back, although that still requires two helpers and so doesn't score quite as well.  We have begun serious talks about what skills I must have before I would consider myself ready for discharge, and how we will deal with the issue of transportation, since I currently am not capable of getting in and out of my car, so tomorrow's team conference results should prove interesting. The team of therapists and doctors will be discussing all my scores and working out the details of the equipment and transportation needs I might have, so I'm looking forward to hearing how that discussion goes.

Yesterday, the radiation oncology resident working with me, who saw me when I was still in ICU weeks ago, said he could definitely see some improvement in my leg movements since then, and I thought that was very encouraging.  He seemed quite pleased, which was a pleasant reminder of how far I've come, even if from my perspective, working so hard every day, the improvements seem so tiny as to be hardly appreciable sometimes.