Bloody Mess – Part 2
Click here to read Bloody Mess – Part 1
I entered into a pristine white room, very cold, very harsh, lying on my back on a gurney. I moved my eyes about, trying to see as much as I could with limited head movement. I wanted to take in as much of this space as possible. I have never been in a space so cold and empty even though several people occupied it.
When I was parked near the procedure table for a quick transfer, I noticed a balcony-level window facing me. I’ve only seen this on TV, this is where students can observe operational procedures…Oh shit…I’m in an operating room!
This is when it all became too real.
I felt the long needle pierce the crease at the top of my leg. I became overwhelmed by the euphoria of the sedatives in my IV. I could feel the pressure of them pushing the catheter into my body.
The satellite radio was quieting playing 90’s hits, Babyface’s “When Can I See You Again?” and the Janet Jackson song, she was swimming around nude in the video, I couldn’t think of the name it. I began nervously rattling off trivial facts about the music, just to keep my mind away from this.
But it was impossible; they were already in my head.
“Ok, we need you to hold your breath, close your eyes, don’t move an inch, be really still.” I heard this kind voice coaching me.
Shortly after each time I heard these words, I felt a warm, steady, burning rush hit the back of my head and spreading to the front. As sharp as brain freeze, but it was hot and all over my head, not just isolated to the front. It moved stubbornly through my veins, like poorly chewed food lodged in the chest, resisting the fluids needed to wash it down. It last for a few seconds but the burning lingered then faded, just in time for the next injection of contrast.
Tortuous as this was, what makes it worse is that you cannot scream or squirm your pain. My only movement was the tears slowly trickling down the sides of my grimacing face.
I was sent to recovery after the procedure to rest for an hour, before heading back to my room. Vulnerable, compromised, invaded, helpless, I was lost in my emotion. I was lost in this whole situation.
Lying on my back, ordered not to sit up for six hours, I couldn’t lift any body parts except my arms and my neck. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t help it. The only thing I was able to do was to bathe restlessly in my tears for the next three hours.
I couldn’t speak, choking on tears, my breathing was rapid and panting, all I could do was look at the nurses milling about my room, responding with faint head nods to answer their questions. I think the only reason I eventually calmed down is because I couldn’t cry any longer, I felt that I had expended all of my energy. There was nothing left for me to do but rest.
Noticing I’d calmed down, my nurse suggested that she change my bed linen because it was stained with blood, very typical after this procedure. She thought fresh linen would make me feel better; also this would help her gauge how much my incision was still bleeding.
She rolled me on my right side to loosen the corners of the linens, when the fragile seal of my wound broke, spewing a geyser of blood from my upper thigh. Rolled immediately on my back, the nurse leaned forward, with her two hands and body weight, applied pressure to the incision to stop the bleeding.
It felt as though she was sticking her finger in a gunshot wound. A yell rattled with terrifying pain shot out my mouth before I even realized I was screaming. My head flung back, tears effortlessly leaving my eyes, hands death gripping the bed’s side rails, still painfully pleading incoherently. I began squirming violently, jerking as she applied more pressure, but it didn’t seem to matter, a river of warm blood poured down my leg.
She summoned another nurse, by pressing the very button I’d use to call her. Another nurse hurried into the room, saw all of the blood on the white cotton sheets and my hospital robe. Her response was, “Oh, shit,” before leaving the room and returning with a doctor.
After four nurses, two doctors and over 20 minutes of applied pressure, the bleeding finally stopped. And my bed rest started all over again. I rested in these blood-soaked linens for seven hours until the nurse was assured that this outburst would not happen again.
