(from my new blog - turtles travels)
“Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged”
Posted on March 11, 2012
I learned some new polish vocabulary(which I don’t know how to spell): boli, loot, guave, pletsa, poopa (pain, ice, head, back, butt). Yep, it’s the hospital experience. I slipped on some ice right outside the office building Monday last week (27th of February) after the first day of my second week at work. It wasn’t a slow fall where you realize your slipping and try to regain balance but just boom. One minute I’m walking toward the bus and the next I’m on the ground. My boss was right there when it happened and he went with me in the ambulance to the hospital (or szpital)
Initially the head was swelling but luckily it also began to bleed so a lot of the blood could immediately drain out. It only got to about the size of a small mango, not the large watermelon size it usually takes on after a fall on the back of my head like this. So it didn’t get to the screaming pain That was reserved for the pletsa/back. It’s always those surprise locations, which weren’t hurting initially after the fall that end up being the killers. The swelling was all under control on my head and tail bone and I didn’t realize there was a bruise on my back too, and then it was very much aggravated with all the moving from bed to X-ray table to bed to CT scan, to MRI and all and started swelling so bad.
Before that started, I was telling Emilka (the roommate/friend who had come to the hospital after my boss called her), that I was lucky and surprised the swelling didn’t get to the point of the screaming pain (or talking gibberish. the next stage) because usually after a fall like this, it does. I was also joking that it was too bad I wouldn’t be getting any morphine because the pain wasn’t bad enough for that. In Dutch there’s an expression for this ‘te vroeg gejuicht’ (cheered too soon). Long story short: in the end I did need and got the morphine.
They had to drain that hematoma on my back the very next day, even though it was still sort of swelling, because it was on my spine and getting too big. They said this would be done in a “surgery.” I asked Emilka afterwards, a bit worried, if they really meant surgery or if they meant “procedure” and used the wrong word in translation. She got some more explanations from the doctor and said not to worry: it would just be a procedure, not a full surgery.
Never the less, some time afterwards (the next day, or later that day, I don’t remember) a cheerful little anesthesiologist entered the room. When he introduced himself as the anesthesiologist, all I could think was “go away, go away, go away” and I explained I did not want a full surgery where I’d be put to sleep and on oxygen/intubation and everything. That I was quite certain this could be done with me being wide awake, perhaps with local anesthesia, like they did last time I had a hematoma drained. He explained he wasn’t sure about that “maybe so. I don’t know what they plan to do exactly”, and they had sent him in here to ask questions to prepare for the “surgery.” So he asked the questions: “are you allergic to anything. Have you had any surgeries before and were there any complications?” So then I was like, “yes, actually. quite recently….”
Suzanka, Emilka’s sister who was there at the time, was reflecting yesterday:“it was so funny!….well not funny…but when you were talking to that anesthesiologist, you so calmly and matter-of-factly explained that “last time I had a surgery, my lung collapsed and heart stopped beating I almost died, and this is why I do not want a surgery *polite smile* : )
Anyway, the “procedure” to put those drains in my back, went just fine. They did make me sleep a little bit, but not fully where I would need intubation (breathing tubes to push oxygen into lungs, not sure what its called, but that’s where it went wrong last time). They left the drains in there to collect the blood that was still coming out of the broken blood vessels (if they hadn’t done that, it would have just started swelling all over again) and everything turned out fine. I was supposed to go home Monday, a week after the accident, but then they decided to also drain the hematoma on my head. This was an easier procedure as it was no longer swelling so they would not have to attach any drains that would stay in: simply punch a small hole in the head, and let the blood drip out into a container, applying a little bit of pressure to squeeze it out, like milking a cow. Maybe that sounds gross or painful. I don’t know, it just seems normal to me. One of the young nursing or doctors students who spoke English would be like: “it doesn’t hurt?” “still doesn’t hurt? “really doesn’t hurt?” and I would be like “hm…nope.” And he kept repeating “that is so cool! You’re so cool! Very courageous.” It was so cute
he was all in awe I think, of seeing all this blood being squeezed out of my head, and me just lying there like I was getting my nails done. It felt much better afterwards. Much more comfortable to lie on my back without that big bump on my head.
But then the next day, they still would not let me go home, because now there was this wound on my head that they wanted to monitor. I was joking with a friend “I think they like me too much. Now they’re just making up excuses to keep me here longer
Wednesday (March 7th) they finally let me out though. Now I’m staying at the friends house and doing fine. Except for the dizziness and constant ringing in my ears. Tuesday, when I go back to the szpital to get the stitches removed, I might tell them and ask them to check my blood pressure. Maybe it’s a little too low still.
p.s..The title of this entry is a reference to Joshua 8:1 “Do not be afraid do not be discouraged” which appeared three journal entries ago (the first part of the last chunk of that journal entry - 18th of Feb. titled “o what a perfect day). When that verse came up during the Bible study, and as I was contemplating it afterwards, I couldn’t help but think “shit” because of what happened after the last 2 times I randomly came across that verse during my Bible reading. Its the verse that often seems to come up before the first fall in a new place (an accident like this usually happens (at least) during the first year in a new country. …in this case, the first weeks) - I might start calling these “Joshua 8:1″ moments, since this is the 3rd time reading that verse or being reminded of it has been followed soon by an accident like this. Anyway, when Joshua 8:1 came up, it felt almost like a warning signal, but at the same time I immediately felt ok and a come-what-may kind of peace. So in a way, I was prepared for this to happen.
Posted on March 11, 2012
I learned some new polish vocabulary(which I don’t know how to spell): boli, loot, guave, pletsa, poopa (pain, ice, head, back, butt). Yep, it’s the hospital experience. I slipped on some ice right outside the office building Monday last week (27th of February) after the first day of my second week at work. It wasn’t a slow fall where you realize your slipping and try to regain balance but just boom. One minute I’m walking toward the bus and the next I’m on the ground. My boss was right there when it happened and he went with me in the ambulance to the hospital (or szpital)
Initially the head was swelling but luckily it also began to bleed so a lot of the blood could immediately drain out. It only got to about the size of a small mango, not the large watermelon size it usually takes on after a fall on the back of my head like this. So it didn’t get to the screaming pain That was reserved for the pletsa/back. It’s always those surprise locations, which weren’t hurting initially after the fall that end up being the killers. The swelling was all under control on my head and tail bone and I didn’t realize there was a bruise on my back too, and then it was very much aggravated with all the moving from bed to X-ray table to bed to CT scan, to MRI and all and started swelling so bad.
Before that started, I was telling Emilka (the roommate/friend who had come to the hospital after my boss called her), that I was lucky and surprised the swelling didn’t get to the point of the screaming pain (or talking gibberish. the next stage) because usually after a fall like this, it does. I was also joking that it was too bad I wouldn’t be getting any morphine because the pain wasn’t bad enough for that. In Dutch there’s an expression for this ‘te vroeg gejuicht’ (cheered too soon). Long story short: in the end I did need and got the morphine.
They had to drain that hematoma on my back the very next day, even though it was still sort of swelling, because it was on my spine and getting too big. They said this would be done in a “surgery.” I asked Emilka afterwards, a bit worried, if they really meant surgery or if they meant “procedure” and used the wrong word in translation. She got some more explanations from the doctor and said not to worry: it would just be a procedure, not a full surgery.
Never the less, some time afterwards (the next day, or later that day, I don’t remember) a cheerful little anesthesiologist entered the room. When he introduced himself as the anesthesiologist, all I could think was “go away, go away, go away” and I explained I did not want a full surgery where I’d be put to sleep and on oxygen/intubation and everything. That I was quite certain this could be done with me being wide awake, perhaps with local anesthesia, like they did last time I had a hematoma drained. He explained he wasn’t sure about that “maybe so. I don’t know what they plan to do exactly”, and they had sent him in here to ask questions to prepare for the “surgery.” So he asked the questions: “are you allergic to anything. Have you had any surgeries before and were there any complications?” So then I was like, “yes, actually. quite recently….”
Suzanka, Emilka’s sister who was there at the time, was reflecting yesterday:“it was so funny!….well not funny…but when you were talking to that anesthesiologist, you so calmly and matter-of-factly explained that “last time I had a surgery, my lung collapsed and heart stopped beating I almost died, and this is why I do not want a surgery *polite smile* : )
Anyway, the “procedure” to put those drains in my back, went just fine. They did make me sleep a little bit, but not fully where I would need intubation (breathing tubes to push oxygen into lungs, not sure what its called, but that’s where it went wrong last time). They left the drains in there to collect the blood that was still coming out of the broken blood vessels (if they hadn’t done that, it would have just started swelling all over again) and everything turned out fine. I was supposed to go home Monday, a week after the accident, but then they decided to also drain the hematoma on my head. This was an easier procedure as it was no longer swelling so they would not have to attach any drains that would stay in: simply punch a small hole in the head, and let the blood drip out into a container, applying a little bit of pressure to squeeze it out, like milking a cow. Maybe that sounds gross or painful. I don’t know, it just seems normal to me. One of the young nursing or doctors students who spoke English would be like: “it doesn’t hurt?” “still doesn’t hurt? “really doesn’t hurt?” and I would be like “hm…nope.” And he kept repeating “that is so cool! You’re so cool! Very courageous.” It was so cute
he was all in awe I think, of seeing all this blood being squeezed out of my head, and me just lying there like I was getting my nails done. It felt much better afterwards. Much more comfortable to lie on my back without that big bump on my head.
But then the next day, they still would not let me go home, because now there was this wound on my head that they wanted to monitor. I was joking with a friend “I think they like me too much. Now they’re just making up excuses to keep me here longer
Wednesday (March 7th) they finally let me out though. Now I’m staying at the friends house and doing fine. Except for the dizziness and constant ringing in my ears. Tuesday, when I go back to the szpital to get the stitches removed, I might tell them and ask them to check my blood pressure. Maybe it’s a little too low still.
p.s..The title of this entry is a reference to Joshua 8:1 “Do not be afraid do not be discouraged” which appeared three journal entries ago (the first part of the last chunk of that journal entry - 18th of Feb. titled “o what a perfect day). When that verse came up during the Bible study, and as I was contemplating it afterwards, I couldn’t help but think “shit” because of what happened after the last 2 times I randomly came across that verse during my Bible reading. Its the verse that often seems to come up before the first fall in a new place (an accident like this usually happens (at least) during the first year in a new country. …in this case, the first weeks) - I might start calling these “Joshua 8:1″ moments, since this is the 3rd time reading that verse or being reminded of it has been followed soon by an accident like this. Anyway, when Joshua 8:1 came up, it felt almost like a warning signal, but at the same time I immediately felt ok and a come-what-may kind of peace. So in a way, I was prepared for this to happen.