Every Monday I go to see Dr. W…his name is so filled with vowels that it’s rumored that no one can pronounce it. So…he is lovingly called Dr. W. He is retired military and an expert in wound care. My tiny little wound does not even phase him after what he has seen in his career. However…my tiny little wound brings me to the depths of despair on a daily basis.
So…yesterday…we are at the wound center…room 1…it’s a chair…not a bed…and it’s my “good luck” room. Our sweetest ever Nurse Practioner comes in and measures and checks out my wound and says she just knows this is my last day for the vac…she would never override Dr. W…but she has a good feeling about how good everything looks…and that’s all I need to hear. I have been eating as much protein and drinking as much Vitamin C as I can and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t connected to this 8 pound vac or when a nurse wasn’t coming to our house to change the bandage every third day. My routine with this vac is that it goes where I go…bathroom, shower, walks around the house…I can’t really walk outside until it’s removed…I mean I know it sounds like nothing but I have to detach and reattach all day long…the tube literally comes out of my stomach! And at times there’s cramping…and I give in and just cry. I am trying not to be a crying kind of person but it’s not working for me…
I AM A CRYING KIND OF PERSON!
So…the vac is back on until next Monday…it gurgles, it hurts, it’s annoying and I still can’t believe it’s a part of my life for the rest of this week. Night time is the worst part of it because it keeps me in one uncomfortable spot but Den says that I can do this.
I CAN DO THIS!
I am on my own today…Den has my lunch packed, meds out, house rules in place. Neighbors know I am alone for a few hours, I can go downstairs once…not back up again. No work…although I did sort of wipe down our bathroom. No pushing or straining or lifting. No shower until Den comes home. Alarm on. Don’t open the door for anyone. I think I am good!
Time for a nap!