It isn’t like a magic wand swept over my life and proclaimed, “Congratulations! You are on the outside!”
On the last day in the hospital, there are some crystal clear memories:
My nurse offered me an “as needed” medicine for my mood (very helpful).
My nurse did not communicate to me clearly about getting my horrible PICC line taken out of my arm.
My PICC line was one of my least favorite parts of my hospital experiences. The installation was rather dehumanizing. In retrospect, being in the ICU included a lot of dehumanizing experiences.
If you are wondering “What is a PICC line, anyway” I will explain it briefly, but even in explaining it I get squirmy and uncomfortable. PICC is the abbreviated name for peripherally inserted central catheter. It is a long, thin tube that is inserted through a vein in your arm and passed through to the larger veins near your heart.
I remember one medical pro seeming to be annoyed that I had a PICC line installed. After I sort of understood more what it is, I can see how they might not like it. On the other hand, my veins roll a lot and after a couple days in the hospital, they were getting pretty scarred up.
My PICC line was uncomfortable, probably because they put small, weighted balls on the end, I suppose to keep it safer.
I wanted it out but because the initial installation was so unpleasant I was not looking forward to it coming out AND I knew it was a necessity to go home.
I remember wondering when they were going to take it out, I even wondered aloud.
“She offered to take it out and you said no,” I was told.
“I did?” I was confused. “I want it out, let’s get her back in here.”
The PICC line came was removed without any pain and with that, the full speed ahead train to release me happened and I was rolled out the door and all I wanted to do was go to the bluffs. I wanted to go sit by a tree. I wanted to be outside and smell the dry, burnt air of Bakersfield.
The familiar, post summer scent of burnt grasses smelled like home. The bluffs were a sign of normalcy.
Emma, Ken and I walked – I hobbled – to a bench where I wanted to be quiet and just look out at the familiar scene. I needed to feel as normal as possible.
When I was in one spot, I felt pretty normal. When I got up to move about, I felt ancient and exhausted. I didn’t realize this would become my new normal for a while.
I didn’t know the roughest times post-almost-dying were on the horizon.
I simply wanted to feel better. Normal-adjacent would be better than spending another day trapped in a hospital bed. At least that was my hope and prayer.
# # #
🌟 Creative Life Coach & Muse Cultivator
🎨 | Award-Winning Writer/Actor/Storyteller
🌱 | Empowering Your Second Act
🎉| New Courses/Programs Coming soon!
🎁 Your presence here makes me feel grateful.
✍🏻I am a writer first, writing & creativity coach, multi passionate creative next. Writing has always been my anchor art and to her I always return. Thankfully, with great love.
🎯 My aim is to create content here that inspires and instructs – if there is ever a topic you would like for me to explore, please reach out and tell me. My ultimate goal is to create posts, videos and more that speak to your desires as well as mine because where these two intersect, our collaborative, joyful energy ignites into a fire of love, light and passionate creativity.
4:40 pm update- creatinine levels are finally declining which means things are on the mend. Please continue to pray for the rest of the way – and hopefully on Sunday I’ll be home again.
Arian Garcia for patiently live-streaming KSFs Henry V! So wonderful to sit in my room and watch. It was the best…. and my child, Emma, truly brought it. The theatre-Mom in me was impressed AND so was the director-me who often watches plays taking notes in my head. (Trying to get over that!)
People who are talented comforters (and might not even know it).
The powerful medicines of story listening AND story questioning and storytelling.
YouTube meditation videos and music.
Water
