CHAPTER 210 IMPRESSIONS OF MY LIFE: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RECHERCHE POET. THE PRISONER OF C. DIFF. 2016

 CHAPTER 210 THE PRISONER OF C. DIFF.  2016 

I was placed in a bed in a fairly large room. I was alone, nobody occupied the one other bed. I wanted to call my wife, but I could not. The telephone for the room was at least one bed length away where I could not reach it.  There were a number of things hanging on all the walls. Far down the landscape a wall of windows. They started about waist high off the floor and ran almost  to the ceiling. I could not see much out of them from my bed except some distant trees and a patch of sky.

To my right were some more window through which I could see some Wilmington Buildings. There was a TV I could watch on the opposite wall. The remote was tied to these rails along the top of my bed. There was also a long cord with a button at the end. This was the call button.  Press it and a nurse appeared.

In the first two days I wore that button and some nurses out.

When even a bowel movement hit me and they hit me a lot at the beginning I would have to press the button and summon someone with a bedpan.  Natured called often and insistently.

The first time I tried to get out of the bed thinking I could use the restroom down at the lower side of the room.  WRONG!  As soon as I put a leg outside the mattress an alarm sounded above the bed. It repeated itself over and over and it was loud. When it sounded it seemed nurses and aids came from  everywhere. They surrounded me. One turned off the horn and others pushed me back into the borders of my bed.

I was not aloud to get up, and certainly not allowed to reach the freedom of the hall.  I was toxic. Bedpan or mess was what I lived with for two days. I was a prisoner.  Every time I had to go, with seemed to occur every quarter of an hour or less, I had to ring the bell and a couple nurses would come, one carrying the bedpan, the  other with armloads of bed clothes.  They would wait for an all clear from me and then go into action. 

The one would roll me on my side and take the now full pan away. She would inspect the contents as she carried it to the bathroom, flushed everything away and washed the pan.

Meanwhile the other nurse would keep me up on my side while she wiped me. You quickly give up your dignity when someone must wipe your rear every time you go to the toilet. It is very undignified.  She wouldn’t also wash me off and spear on some cream., before putting on a new  diaper and fresh gown.

The two of them would then strip the bed and change the
sheets, blankets and the pad I lay upon. They would do this by rolling me to one side until done that half a bed, then toll me the other way. 

After two days of this I looked over and they rolled a commode chair Ito my room new the door.

  What a welcome sight. I was off the bedpan parade. I was now permitted to use a commode chair, but not without guards. My movements were lessening, but when they came I still had to call for the nurses. They would come, turn off the alarm and helped off the bed. They would escort me to the waiting throne and help me sit, then everybody waiting.

When I indicated the inevable was  happened, they helping back to my
feet. Now I was turned around and held upright while me hither regions were wiped, washed and powdered.  One of the nurses would rearrange the bed and both would help me back onto the new sheets and pad.

Now you may ask, what about my dress. Well that consisted of a new diaper and gown once I was back in bed. My dirty diaper had been stripped off before I was placed on the chair and a clean replacement not put on me before I was walk back and helped into the bed. In that short transfer I was exosed to the world. The gown was of no consequence anyway. It was never cashed behind and would constantly riding up until only about me shoulders.  So, hello world! 

Most of my stay I was married to a plastic urinal bottle. Even after they brought in the commode chair it was limited for heavy duty only. Urinating was a much more frequent necessity.  The use of such a device was a new skill to learn when you are lying flat in a bed.

The nurses would empty it often, much to my gratitude.
Each time  they would hold it to the light and see how large my deposit was. One day the nurse did so and after a couple times told me I wasn’t producing enough. If I could produce more volume they were going to have to catheterize me.  I had never experience this but had heard horror stories.

I would rather not learn about it first hand. I realize people do this up to a point as a sexual practice called sounding, still I would rather skip all  that. I thus began concentration on my urination, hoping to be a better producer and apparently I succeeded. The nurse smiled and said “good boy” and the word catheterize never came up again.

By day 7 it was decided I could be released.   I was upend anxious for Los to pick me up. We had to wait a long time to leave because they insisted I ride to the front door in a wheelchair.

They were very insistent on this, but there was a shortage of wheelchairs and wheelchair pushers, so we had to wait and wait. Finally s fellow showed up and I was wheeled outside of the hospital. There I was kicked out of the chair and left on my own while the pusher returned the chair inside.

I was home about a week when I was attacked by C. Diff again and went right back not the hospital for a week. Except this time I was in  Cristiana Hospital.

Once more free of hospital bed with alarms I had to visit the Department of infectious Diseases.