I am not one to fear hospitals, in fact the though of having someone else take care of everything while I sleep is something I find particularly attractive however, there are certain circumstances where even I just can’t wait to get out. Today was one of those situations. I awoke fairly mobile but unable to get out and walk due to the IV in my hand. I was therefore reduced to peeing into a bed bottle (something that is harder than you would imagine) and counting the hours until the nice nurse came on to shift to get the medieval torture device out of my arm. After what seemed like an eternity of medications, discharge documentation, visits from doctors, surgeons and physiotherapists I was finally told I could leave. I packed up my meagre possessions and limped out of the ward to my first real challenge, walking to the hotel, a mere 50 metres from the Hospital. I knew that the walk wouldn’t be as bad as the car ride and I was right. Sitting in my usually plush seats was excruciating for me, and as much as I love the drive up the DVP on a sunny day I was driven to distraction by what felt like my non-existent stitches ripping out of my scar one by one. We had to make quick stops for medication but we got to the house as quickly as possible where I was faced with what seemed like a pleasant choice pre-surgery. Was it to be the recliner or the bed? To my surprise I felt like the only solution was to take the memory foam topper off the mattress and use the bed. Since laying on the memory foam was incredibly painful it was actually a real treat to lay on a relatively firm mattress. Sure, it wasn’t the adjustable bed I had been used to over the last 48 hours but at least it was bearable. I spent the rest of the day (which by this time was actually the evening) trying to get more sleep and gauging just how well I could do without the Percocets.
The answer, surprisingly was that I could make it through on lack of sleep and one Perc every 4 hours.