Bloody Sunday

There really wasn't much blood on Sunday. Sunday was just my discharge day. I was only to spend 3 nights at the hospital, and I had made arrangements with my husband to pick me up at lunch time - we had asked the day before when I could leave.

A doctor came in that morning to check me, and told me to come back to see Dr. P. Monday afternoon. He said to leave my bandages on and wait for Dr. P. I could ice it, and I should still do my exercises since my arm was still a balloon the size of Texas.

So, later that morning, I ate breakfast alone as usual, got dressed for the first time all by myself ... which took about an hour. I brought simple tank tops with those built in bras so I didn't have to worry about getting a bra over my head or hooked, and the tank top was wide enough to easily stretch over my head. That and pajama bottoms were all I had brought except the jeans I wore the day of the surgery. I also figured that I shouldn't walk around in Germany in pajamas. No one does. Seriously, the only time I have ever seen a German in their pajamas was when I stayed with my exchange partner, and in store advertisements. I went into the bathroom around 9 o'clock to start dressing. My husband said he'd be there around 10. It took me the entire hour to finally get my jeans zipped and buttoned with just my left hand. Then, I went back out to my bed, sat on the edge and tried desperately to pull my socks on one handed. Yeah, that was no fun.

I was completely ready to go at 10 and there was no sign of my husband. Remember how I said that he went AWOL? Okay, so he's not there. So I start to slowly and awkwardly get my things out of the locker, put away my books and things into my back pack and moved all the stuff by the open door of my room. Germans don't bother things that people leave lying around so I wasn't worried my DVD player would be stolen or anything.

It was about 10:30 when I had everything all packed up and moved to the door. My roommate's husband showed up, they packed her up, and then they were leaving. She actually said goodbye and hoped I'd feel better. I told her I wouldn't (of course, she didn't know this because the entire time we roomed together, she only said she'd clal the nurse that one time!!!) They said "Oh," and then they gave me their best wishes and left. I kind of felt weird about that. I still do. I mean, if you room with someone for 3 whole days laying 5 feet from them, and you don't bother to try and talk when you know the person is helpless in a foreign hospital ... what do you expect? I know they didn't understand me but I didn't really care. I just wish that she would have been kinder as a host. I mean, she had been in the room a whole day before I had been. Anyway, they toted out her millions of flowers and gifts and left me sitting by the door waiting.

I got tired of waiting at about 11 and called my husband from the room phone after the nurses came and took my bed out of the room to strip it down and clean. He didn't answer. I don't know how long I waited, but I called him again on his cell phone and he said he was on his way. I told him he was late. He said he overslept - he did have to work the night before. And that night too.

I was irritated. I love my husband dearly and we rarely have any problems but this just aggravated me. I had been waiting at the hospital for 2 hours for him to show up. I had to dress myself, pack myself, and sit there. I'm sure he apologized profusely, but it wasn't really his fault. I was just in a lot of pain and exhausted. I hadn't taken a nap yet.

We leave the hospital and ride down to the garage. When we get to the car, I see he was thoughtful enough to remember to get the pillow I specifically asked for the day before, for the car ride home. We have this gorgeous bedding that is Moraccan themed. It has all these matching pillows with various designs that we don't sleep with, but use to decorate our bed all nice and pretty. I asked him to bring this roll pillow that's about a foot and a half long, and maybe 10 inches around. He helped me get in the car and put on the seatbelt without strangling or injuring myself. Then he hands me the pillow. I gently lift my arm and tell him to stuff it between my chest and arm so it lays on it. I had figured that driving home would involve quite a lot of jostling. If I wasn't careful, I could be in more pain or end up making the wound worse, etc. This was a pure genius idea. I left that pillow in the car for months to use as a rest/barrier.

When we got home, Ihad my husband settle me on the couch in the living room with blankets, pillows, a movie, and water. He went back upstairs to bed. It was a rare day in our house that I allowed this, but I let my dog up on my legs. He lay across them and cuddled me. I remember I watched that Lucille Ball movie with the trailer, Arsenic and Old Lace, and the Marx brothers movie where they're on a boat in a tiny room.

My husband got up not long before he had to leave for work to shower and get ready. He got me some crackers and a soda because I was feeling nauseous, kissed me, and left. He looked like he got run over by a semi.

After he left it was around 9pm. I finished what I was watching, then dragged my pillows up the stairs with me. I made a cozy bed with pillows piled high on my right side so I could elevate my arm. Then, I went back downstairs for the ice pack. We have this huge ice pack that is a square. It's like a foot by a foot, so it would wrap nicely around my arm. I dragged it and a handful of towels upstairs. I had an easier time taking my pants off than I thought I would, got into bed, wrapped the towels around the ice pack, and then around my arm, propped it up on the pillows and tried to sleep.