Last night was the “moment of truth.” I woke up in the middle of the night, without any more pain medication in my system to trick my body into thinking everything was fine. I had to pee for the first time since before i went under, but I couldn’t reach my remote control to call for the nurse. As i lay there, the ache in my chest and the pressure in my bladder built up and became overwhelming. Tears trickled silently at first, then led to all-out, gut-wrenching sobs. Crying hurt my chest even more, but a part of me knew i had to vocalize the agony … so i continued.
Eventually, my bawling was loud enough to alert the nurses. I didn’t have the strength to make it to the bathroom, so they sat me in a chair with a built-in plastic toilet. Afterwards, i begged them to keep administering me pain meds even when i was asleep. They wouldn’t do it … said they needed my explicit permission each time … so i asked them to wake me up every four hours to give me the opportunity. They feigned agreement, drugged me up, and left me to process my pain.
Dilaudid, you’re my only friend here in this hospital. Please don’t leave me.