positivenegative

lost and safe

No Rest for the Weary

On Tuesday morning I awoke to a left arm that was swollen, tender, and leaking strangely colored goo.  This was the site of the installation of a port catheter, and unfortunately it had become infected.  After being admitted that afternoon, I endured the usual barrage of tests and questions about my medical history.  The next day, a minor surgery removed the no-longer-needed device, and I was shunted back to my room as the surgeon quickly prepared for the next operation.  Thanks to the mind/sensory numbing effects of pain killers and cable television, I can only describe what followed as testestquestions moretestsmorequestions and more tests.  Thankfully, the test results revealed that I had contracted an easily treatable Staph infection, and I was released with a prescription for oral antibiotics.

I am always amazed at how tired, hollow, and ill-at-ease I feel after leaving a hospital.  Be it for relatively short visits (such as my chemotherapy sessions), or extended stays, I never feel rested or “healthy”.  I’ll never forget what one nurse said to me after listening my agitated ravings, colored by a sleep deprived near-psychosis.

She said: “You’re not here to rest honey.  You’re here to get well.”

Whether it’s a month and a half, four days or six hours, I never leave that place feeling rested or well.

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