Further adventures in medical land Part 2: ICU

As fantasies go, getting stripped by a group of nurses is not original.  And yet, there I was, living my fantasy.  I wish I could report smouldering looks.  Lingering touches. Stirring etc. But no.  Very functional.  They have done and seen everything before.  And skilled in talking to distract you from what is going on.  Also, I didn’t care who did or saw what.  Pain meds not quite kicked in yet. 

Here I have to insert a disclaimer that my recollection of events from here on might be heavily influenced by pain medication. 

 After making the obligatory “extra money for you if you wake me up” joke to the anesthetist, I was out.  Slightly worried, because the hospital scale couldn’t weigh me (zoo still 80km away).

 It is important not to slap the staff of ICU on their backs.  You might damage their wings.  Not sure where they hide them.  And this is not only my opinion.  The Pastor, who has spent a lot of time in such units for his cancer, back and heart problems, and let’s face it, is trained in divinity, concurs with my assessment.  It is not that the general ward is not like that. But I guess the higher-grade angels gets promoted to ICU.

The morning after the operation a physio arrives.  A slender woman insisting I get up.  I just had an organ removed, lady! I wanted to scream.  But apparently, I could get up.  With the physio clutching my arm, giving her early warning of a fall and thus able to get out of the way in time, we set off for the end of the unit.  In front of me is Nurse A (For Angel) as a target.

“Look up. Relax your shoulders.” She reminded me throughout.  This would play in my head whenever I walked after that.  She was my nurse for the day and at that stage I saw her with a light behind her framing her face.  Later she explained that I got it wrong.  The light behind angel motif is used by a different branch of the angels.  From then on, and when replaying the scene in my mind, she walks in slow motion, hair blowing, soft lighting.  I think it was during that first walk that I used the corny phrase “You know you are pretty.  Of course you do.  You have a mirror.”

Through the days we had interesting conversations, starting with one about separating the person and their good and bad actions.  Oscar Pretorius. Bill Cosby and the one that started the whole thing, Florence Nightingale. I really enjoyed the chats.

People came to visit.  Sent messages. But no postcards. Offers of help from all over. Astonishing support.  Lesson was not be astonished by this.

And then on Saturday a patient needing resuscitation came in.  It was like the movies.  Whole team jumping in.  Each doing their part.  And more nurses and doctors came.  I couldn’t see because they drew the curtains, but I could hear.  This was a team giving it’s all to save a man they didn’t even know.  I don’t know how long it took.  And I missed The Call by being in the bathroom.  Nurse A thought I had run away to avoid it.  That, in retrospect, would have been the smarter choice.  As they emerged from behind the curtains the team had the same look as a losing professional sports team.  Stoical and deeply disappointed. And then the family came.  Wife. Teenage daughters. Parents. Their grief tearing through the curtains to serve me another lesson.  

I was lucky.