My automatic response to any traumatic event – head down – do whatever is needed to get through – then fall apart after the fact…when I mentally process what the H*** just happened. I’m currently processing trauma from 2 weeks ago. This experience was as much a mental challenge as it was to deal with the physical issues. I’ve been trying to write this post for well over a week, it’s not coming out the way I envisioned while I was in the hospital pondering my experience. The stay itself was “relatively” uneventful – luckily – but the mental trauma was sneaky – subtle damage.

It all started with an ER visit which led to 5 nights in the hospital – I knew once I walked into the ER with my complaint I wasn’t getting out any time soon – I’ve been there many times before. The frustrating part is I have no clear reason for the recurrence, no way to guarantee this won’t happen again. And now – any GI discomfort triggers panic – do I need to go back or can I walk it off?

The first assault [a harsh word but that’s what it felt like] was needing to have a nasogastric (NG) tube placed. I knew it was coming – it’s the main reason I waited as long as possible – hoping to avoid going to the ER. I’ve already experienced the discomfort of an NG tube 3 times, this was #4. I spent the hours in the ER waiting room mentally preparing for it. The procedure to get a tube go from your nose & make it to your stomach is bizarre. This time I didn’t fight it, I knew it would be easier if I just complied. It was weird to be complimented by my nurses for making it easy.

Next up – my body became a pin cushion – IV in one arm, the other arm was used for daily 5AM blood draws – eventually they had to use my hand – my arm spit out a needle? My belly was used for a daily dose of blood thinner – I still have bruising from these shots. I’m experienced enough in needle pricks to know there is no way to avoid the pain, just sit still & comply.

For the majority of my stay I was stuck to my bed with the IV pole plugged into the wall on one side, the NG tube suction on the other side. Any movement from the bed required a call button & being unhooked from the wall by the very busy nurses. These connections also limited my sleep, no tossing or turning allowed – there was only one sleeping position possible. All of this was necessary… so comply… no complaining or fighting the situation.

Days and nights pretty much ran together – the time on the clock had little meaning – every day was the same as the last. I knew day vs. night as I had the window bed ~ with a really horrible view. Family & friends visited daily & I’m grateful for those visits but – always a but – I imagine hanging around watching me sit in a bed is quite boring.

Multiple doctors, nurses, techs… came in at ALL different hours of the day & night – a steady stream of checking my progress &/or needing to complete a procedure. The roommate situation added to the visit schedule – not all who disrupted the room were there for me. The expectation of patients getting rest to get better is extremely unrealistic.

In addition to the physical benefits from my stay, I also gained mental understanding: my involvement was determined by the will of my “team” – there was no use fighting what was “needed”. Once I entered the establishment my journey was directed by the plans & actions of others. I’m aware I could just refuse care and walk out at any time, but that was more risky than complying.

Probably the hardest part for me: I missed out on 5 days of my life, 5 days of normal. I missed planned events with family & friends… needed others to alter their plans to accommodate my situation, decisions were made without my input, got behind in work… just to spend my time sitting in a bed. I’m angry at my body. I’m sad to be so needy. I’m worried about what is next – there is a really good chance of more trouble in the future… the nature of this beast. I got lucky this time – I avoided needing any further intervention – will I be lucky the next time?