A nurse made me pee on my husband.
And not because he'd been stung by a jellyfish.
Today started out as your average Saturday in The Lives of Our Days.
Ty and Caleb moved into their new house today, and I was at the old place steam cleaning the kitchen floor. To say the landlord is fussy is an understatement, and I don't want my bond withheld over a speck of tomato sauce.
After chilling at their place for the afternoon (or "unpacking" as they referred to it) they arrived to watch and offer advice and moral support.
After checking out the empty rooms, the lack of cat tails to pull, and the absence of any lounge suites to climb on, Kyson waddled over to make sure I had the correct settings on the steam machine.
As fast as a middle-aged wine-drinking cheese-addict who doesn't exercise can, I raced over to steer him away from the 1,000 degree machine.
When returning to my post, I neglected to compute the physics of combining hot water, lino, jandals, and Karo.
One second I was telling Kyson that first degree burns are a little uncomfortable, and we really didn't have time for a trip to Middlemore; the next I was sprawled out on the kitchen floor. Not necessarily a new experience, but I normally don't have a hot six-inch wand in my hand expelling fluid in my face.
There was a moment of confusion, as I tried to recall drinking all the alcohol which usually accompanied such spectacular tumbles.
Then the pain hit. And not like a girl-hit. Like a Mohammed Ali hit.
Once Tyra stopped laughing at the skating show, and noticed I wasn't performing an encore, she asked if I was dead.
"Hang on.... let me..... faaaaaark..... get my breath. I...... god damn bloody hell..... don't think I can move! Shit oh christ mother fucker, I'm a little tender!"
Which was untrue, because two minutes later I was able to roll from my chalk-outline position to my side.
At that point, years of St John training and First Responder experience spurred Caleb into action.
"Are you OK? Do you want us to call an ambulance?
"Pffft. Nope, I'll be fine in a second, I'm sure."
He asked then if I could feel my toes.
If I could have bent at that stage or been able to move my arms I'd probably would have given it a go, but I didn't see how Yoga moves were at all relevant at this point.
Then I realised that my wrist kinda hurt as well. Mr St John looked it over and we determined that, despite the swelling and already visible bruising, nothing was broken.
After texting Clayton for some sympathy, I was up and walking around and laughed it off.
"Must have looked pretty funny huh Ty?"
"Yep. Hilarious."
I continued with the steam mopping, but for some reason I was getting sorer by the minute, not unsorer. When I bent down to grab something, I couldn't get back up without first transitioning through a praying to mecca pose, then pulling myself up the wall like someone who'd just ingested bad LSD. Ty told me to stop.
"Mum!! Leave it. I'll do this tomorrow. You're in too much pain."
They left a few minutes later and I carried on mopping. It was slightly difficult squeezing the trigger on the wand; and every step I took felt like someone was poking me with hot BBQ skewers.
Meanwhile, in other news, Murmie had done a runner. I didn't get the chance to catch-and-release back at our place before the lads started moving shit out that morning, and she'd obviously decided that she was being abandoned yet again. She was clearly not happy with her lodgings on previous abandonments and was taking the search for her new home into her own hands.
I called her a few times, and got a couple of replies that sounded like they were coming from the neighbour's 100ft high tree. I limped over and realised that, despite all my childhood experience - getting stuck up trees - there was no way I was going to be scaling this monstrosity in the state I was in. The latest Firefighter Calendar that I had flicked through purely for the rescued animal appreciation flashed through my mind, then I remembered that we lived in Feilding with a volunteer brigade and the average citizen age in this town is 76.
So I did the next best thing and called Clayton to come back over and help me look, although he clearly didn't get the memo about arriving topless and covered in oil.
When he arrived walking was getting a little more difficult. Still, I managed to hobble around the neighbour's front yard looking up into a tree for ten minutes or so before nearly passing out on the footpath.
When he arrived walking was getting a little more difficult. Still, I managed to hobble around the neighbour's front yard looking up into a tree for ten minutes or so before nearly passing out on the footpath.
"Do we need to go to the hospital??"
"Nope. I'll be fine."
15 minutes later, I'd been crying for ten.
"Get in the van. We're going to the hospital."
Yep, van. Which we'd borrowed for moving. So, 'getting in' was much easier said than done when I couldn't lift my own legs. Somehow I managed to drag myself up and across the open door and onto the seat while Clayton locked the 48 doors and windows that were open, and we were on our way.
Yep, van. Which we'd borrowed for moving. So, 'getting in' was much easier said than done when I couldn't lift my own legs. Somehow I managed to drag myself up and across the open door and onto the seat while Clayton locked the 48 doors and windows that were open, and we were on our way.
20 minutes later I'd been crying for 30 minutes and was ready for an epidural.
My arms were numb from holding my weight up off the seat while simultaneously planking so as to not put any direct weight on my tailbone. I'm going to regret skipping leg day this week.
My arms were numb from holding my weight up off the seat while simultaneously planking so as to not put any direct weight on my tailbone. I'm going to regret skipping leg day this week.
Fortunately, the drunken Saturday night patients hadn't yet infiltrated the waiting room, and we only had to wait a couple of minutes to be seen. That is, once Clayton got my birth date correct and they found me in the system.
The triage nurse asked what pain relief I'd had. Eyeing the box of paracetamol on her desk, I briefly contemplated lying so I didn't have to start at the bottom.
The triage nurse asked what pain relief I'd had. Eyeing the box of paracetamol on her desk, I briefly contemplated lying so I didn't have to start at the bottom.
"Nothing" I said in between sobs. "I was alone in an empty house."
Seeing her approach a few minutes later with a little medicine cup, I said to Clayton in between sobs "that better not be bloody panadol." It was... but fortunately there were three other little pills in there as well, which I downed like a dieter on cheat day.
"I really can't sit for much longer, this pain is excruciating" I managed between sobs. "I really need to lie down."
"I'm sorry, but we have no bed for you", said Mother Theresa, as I looked at an empty bed right behind her.
"I really can't sit for much longer, this pain is excruciating" I managed between sobs. "I really need to lie down."
"I'm sorry, but we have no bed for you", said Mother Theresa, as I looked at an empty bed right behind her.
Ten minutes later, after being sent for an x-ray of my hip, which had not been mentioned at all during triage; and no x-ray of my tailbone or wrist, which were mentioned several times during triage, we were back in the waiting room. Clayton's use of the words "fucking incompetent!" and "I've never seen her in this much pain before!" seemed to have some weight when he asked to see a different nurse. One who didn't pluck random body parts to put on the ACC forms.
He did apologise to the X-Ray technician and acknowledge that it wasn't her fault, then asked if I could get more pain relief. It seems the apology didn't hold much weight when she appeared two minutes later saying "I'm sorry, you've already had as much as we can give you at the moment."
He did apologise to the X-Ray technician and acknowledge that it wasn't her fault, then asked if I could get more pain relief. It seems the apology didn't hold much weight when she appeared two minutes later saying "I'm sorry, you've already had as much as we can give you at the moment."
"Babe, you want me to drive home and get some of your tramadol??"
Had I been capable of wheeling myself around the waiting room, I would have taken him up on his offer. That, and I needed someone's shirt to wipe my tears and snot on. I wasn't doing that on my new demin jacket.
Had I been capable of wheeling myself around the waiting room, I would have taken him up on his offer. That, and I needed someone's shirt to wipe my tears and snot on. I wasn't doing that on my new demin jacket.
Five minutes later, I'd been crying for an hour. Just as I was about to slide right off the wheelchair and lie myself down on the waiting room floor, we were taken through to emergency ward and given a bed. Pretty soon we were met by The Lovely Doctor, who I think said quite a few words but all I cared about were the ones that formed the sentence "stronger pain relief".
After the magic pill had been ingested, but before she returned, I was faced with an alarming situation. A full bladder, and legs that didn't work.
Winnie The Nurse overheard my conundrum.
"Lets try and get you into the wheelchair, otherwise you're going to need to use the bedpan."
"Pass me my shoes."
Unfortunately, stubbornness was unable to override a shattered pelvis, and about 1/8 of the way through the bed-to-wheelchair manoeuvre, the operation was canned.
Figuratively.
"It's OK, um, I think I cried all my fluids out. I don't need to go any more."
TLD returned to give me the once-over. She manipulated my feet, legs and arms; poked and prodded my back; and pushed and squeezed my hips in ways that made me wish for labour pains again, just to lessen the torture. Then sent me for a hip x-ray. With a perfectly valid explanation. With Diana, The Yelled At Radiographer.
The Sevredol had started to work her magic slightly, so there was enough freed-up consciousness to try and make amends.
"Oh, I REALLY like your haircut!"
After confirming that there was no chance he could be pregnant, Clayton got to come in and watch the x-ray screens with the lovely ladies, and I felt him undressing me with his eyes.
Well, I felt the x-rays undressing me, but he was the one perving at the screen.
"Babe, why don't you have any undies on?"
"Don't you do the steam mopping Commando?"
"I know I do" say The Unyelled At Radiographer.
Back on the ER ward, WTN asked if I still needed to empty my bladder. Because, apparently, I wasn't allowed to be moved until they had the results of my X-Rays - just in case something was fractured and it aggravated it.
Being all too aware of the drug-fuelled spiral descent into damaging already broken bones, I decided it best to take her advice.
"It's OK, I still don't need to go."
Ten minutes later I still needed to go.
"Do you know when we'll get the results? I kinda need to pee still."
"No idea sorry love, how about we go and get you a bed pan?"
Looking from my husband, to WTN, to my at-that-point-still-dry shorts, then back to my husband, I realised I didn't really have much choice.
Pee in a bed pan, or pee in a bed.
At that point, peeing on my husband hadn't even entered my mind.
"OK, so I really have to do it on the pan? I can't try and get up and go?"
"Nope. Not until we see your results."
It's worthwhile to point out that the opiate effects of the Sevredol had well and truly kicked in by now.
When WTN returned with the pan, I had to lie there and let her and my husband pull my pants down. Not quite how I think he'd pictured a threesome going down.
Once I was exposed to the world, I needed to halt the proceedings to ascertain how the mechanics were going to work.
"If I'm, just like, lying on top of this, won't my pee go up and not down?"
WTN looked a little confused. "Do you mean, up in the air? Um, no.... I'm pretty sure your pee will go into the bedpan."
"But, like, it's going to go up before it goes down, isn't it?"
Clayton and WTN exchange glances that they think go unseen.
I sighed, rolled my eyes, then looked down. To be reminded that I'm pantless, with an adult standing on either side of me staring in the general direction of my urethra.
"Yeah, so, I don't think I"m going to able to do this with the both of you standing there waiting for the big finale."
"I'll leave and give you some privacy" says WTN. "Just call me when you're done and I"ll come and get it."
Clayton waves her off.
"Ah, yeah.... you too babe."
"What, really? You want me to go?"
"Babe. I'm lying here for all intents and purposes about to pee in bed. It's not my most dignified moment."
"Oh. OK. Sure. I'll just be out here. Call me if you need me."
"I won't need you. It's just pee."
30 seconds later I was watching in horror as, not only did my pee go up instead of down into the bowl, it also flowed in a nice little channel all the way down to my knees.
"Babe, I need you! OMG my pee is going up!"
"What the fuck? What do you me...." as he rushes in.
"Get it! It's going everywhere! Get the tissues and paper towels, help me!"
As he scrambles for paper towels, dams the flow, and I do my best to hold my thighs together, I felt it was the appropriate time for backlash.
"I TOLD you this would happen! I knew there was nowhere for it to go, and now I'm covered in pee and the bed is covered in pee and I still have heaps more to go" and I think the sobbing may have started again.
"Babe. Open your thighs. You've got your legs squeezed together."
"That's not going to HELP, that's just going to make it worse and then..."
He forces my thighs open in a move that he could have busted out on our wedding night.
Suddenly the bedpan is fulfilling it's purpose.
"It's not my fault" I mutter. "I didn't even want to use this in the first place, I totally could have waited...."
Right then WTN walks in to announce the news. "We've got your x-ray results and there's no fractures!"
"I got pee on the bed".
After the magic pill had been ingested, but before she returned, I was faced with an alarming situation. A full bladder, and legs that didn't work.
Winnie The Nurse overheard my conundrum.
"Lets try and get you into the wheelchair, otherwise you're going to need to use the bedpan."
"Pass me my shoes."
Unfortunately, stubbornness was unable to override a shattered pelvis, and about 1/8 of the way through the bed-to-wheelchair manoeuvre, the operation was canned.
Figuratively.
"It's OK, um, I think I cried all my fluids out. I don't need to go any more."
TLD returned to give me the once-over. She manipulated my feet, legs and arms; poked and prodded my back; and pushed and squeezed my hips in ways that made me wish for labour pains again, just to lessen the torture. Then sent me for a hip x-ray. With a perfectly valid explanation. With Diana, The Yelled At Radiographer.
The Sevredol had started to work her magic slightly, so there was enough freed-up consciousness to try and make amends.
"Oh, I REALLY like your haircut!"
After confirming that there was no chance he could be pregnant, Clayton got to come in and watch the x-ray screens with the lovely ladies, and I felt him undressing me with his eyes.
Well, I felt the x-rays undressing me, but he was the one perving at the screen.
"Babe, why don't you have any undies on?"
"Don't you do the steam mopping Commando?"
"I know I do" say The Unyelled At Radiographer.
Back on the ER ward, WTN asked if I still needed to empty my bladder. Because, apparently, I wasn't allowed to be moved until they had the results of my X-Rays - just in case something was fractured and it aggravated it.
Being all too aware of the drug-fuelled spiral descent into damaging already broken bones, I decided it best to take her advice.
"It's OK, I still don't need to go."
Ten minutes later I still needed to go.
"Do you know when we'll get the results? I kinda need to pee still."
"No idea sorry love, how about we go and get you a bed pan?"
Looking from my husband, to WTN, to my at-that-point-still-dry shorts, then back to my husband, I realised I didn't really have much choice.
Pee in a bed pan, or pee in a bed.
At that point, peeing on my husband hadn't even entered my mind.
"OK, so I really have to do it on the pan? I can't try and get up and go?"
"Nope. Not until we see your results."
It's worthwhile to point out that the opiate effects of the Sevredol had well and truly kicked in by now.
When WTN returned with the pan, I had to lie there and let her and my husband pull my pants down. Not quite how I think he'd pictured a threesome going down.
Once I was exposed to the world, I needed to halt the proceedings to ascertain how the mechanics were going to work.
"If I'm, just like, lying on top of this, won't my pee go up and not down?"
WTN looked a little confused. "Do you mean, up in the air? Um, no.... I'm pretty sure your pee will go into the bedpan."
"But, like, it's going to go up before it goes down, isn't it?"
Clayton and WTN exchange glances that they think go unseen.
I sighed, rolled my eyes, then looked down. To be reminded that I'm pantless, with an adult standing on either side of me staring in the general direction of my urethra.
"Yeah, so, I don't think I"m going to able to do this with the both of you standing there waiting for the big finale."
"I'll leave and give you some privacy" says WTN. "Just call me when you're done and I"ll come and get it."
Clayton waves her off.
"Ah, yeah.... you too babe."
"What, really? You want me to go?"
"Babe. I'm lying here for all intents and purposes about to pee in bed. It's not my most dignified moment."
"Oh. OK. Sure. I'll just be out here. Call me if you need me."
"I won't need you. It's just pee."
30 seconds later I was watching in horror as, not only did my pee go up instead of down into the bowl, it also flowed in a nice little channel all the way down to my knees.
"Babe, I need you! OMG my pee is going up!"
"What the fuck? What do you me...." as he rushes in.
"Get it! It's going everywhere! Get the tissues and paper towels, help me!"
As he scrambles for paper towels, dams the flow, and I do my best to hold my thighs together, I felt it was the appropriate time for backlash.
"I TOLD you this would happen! I knew there was nowhere for it to go, and now I'm covered in pee and the bed is covered in pee and I still have heaps more to go" and I think the sobbing may have started again.
"Babe. Open your thighs. You've got your legs squeezed together."
"That's not going to HELP, that's just going to make it worse and then..."
He forces my thighs open in a move that he could have busted out on our wedding night.
Suddenly the bedpan is fulfilling it's purpose.
"It's not my fault" I mutter. "I didn't even want to use this in the first place, I totally could have waited...."
Right then WTN walks in to announce the news. "We've got your x-ray results and there's no fractures!"
"I got pee on the bed".
