Shut the Door and Get Me Out of Here!

The morning began at 5 am when my monitor ran out of paper. It has to be replaced every 8 hours, which means that more often than not, I get an unfortunate wake-up call at ass o'clock in the form of the most annoying "Doo doo dooo" alarm. Upon hearing this noise, I press the nurse call button (unless the nurse is really on top of it and manages to come in and change the paper right before or as the alarm is going off). These days, she just comes in and changes the paper without bothering me, which is nice - it used to be that I could also expect to have my vitals taken at this time.

For reasons completely unknown to me, the nurse left the door ajar when she left the room. What the hell? Seeing as it takes me a couple of minutes to actually get out of bed by the time I unhook my compression boots and disconnect myself from the monitor, I was none too excited to have the light from the hallway shining into my room. So I lay in bed for a few minutes, considering whether or not I could sleep with the door of my hospital room open. Futile.

Around 7:30, the door opened again. Now what?? It was too early for a visit from the doctor or breakfast. I swear to God, if someone had walked in to tell me I was "irritable," I would have punched them in the face.

So I didn't open my eyes and pretended to keep sleeping - this is a powerful hospital trick.

"Sleeping," someone whispers.
"Trying," I think to myself.

They exit, seemingly having done nothing, and leave the door ajar again. DAMNIT!!

This time I refuse to get up and close it.

9 am, someone is back. OMG, will this ever end? I pull my fake sleeping act again. I hear them put down my breakfast tray, and then they leave. Now the door is almost ALL THE WAY OPEN.

Okay, is this the world's most passive-aggressive attempt to force me to wake up? For what? So that I can make it to church on time?? GO AWAY!

This time, I get up and shut the door. As I do, I look around my room and start to feel my head pounding. And then it hits me - I've got to get the hell out of here. I need to leave the confines of this room and get some fresh air, even if I have to throw a brick through a window and stick my head out of it like a dog.

When Brad woke up (mysteriously, he slept through all of this), I told him I was losing it. I was certain that this bed rest prescription without outdoor privileges (minus the weekly Perinatology trip) was no longer good for my health. And so he did what the best husband in the world would do, of course. He marched to the nurse's station while I was in the bathroom, and politely demanded that he be given a wheelchair to take me outside. Apparently, the nurses were confused and asked Brad if the doctor had approved this. He answered in a roundabout manner that almost satisfied them.

10 minutes later, after he'd returned to the room, the doctor showed up.

Doc: "I understand you're getting a bit crazy in here."
Me: "Yes..."
Doc: "So we're going to let you go outside today. It's a beautiful day, you've been very good, and you should enjoy it."
Me: "Oh thank God!!"
Brad: "So I can take her out myself for 15 minutes, maybe 30?"
Doc: "Yes, 15-30."

After waiting an inordinate amount of time for a wheelchair to show up in a place where people, you know, need them, Brad lost his patience and found one on his own. Decked out in my "going out" robe and sandals, we hit the pavement. Hurricane Ida's wind blew through my hair (and thank God I'm still rocking this blow-out, else my hair would not have moved) - and it was awesome.

When we returned to the room after 40 minutes (shhhh), I felt so vindicated. And so I settled into the rest of my day - no pounding headache, no dog-like symptoms - and the hope that tomorrow's doctor has as much mercy on me.