HOSPITAL STAY, FIVE DIFFICULT WEEKS
November 11, 2025
Starting near the end of September, the 21st to be exact, life took a crazy and terrifying turn. This will probably be a long post, so sit back and relax. It may get personal and or graphic, so I won’t feel offended if you choose not to read.
I started having pain in my bottom, starting as just when I was sitting, and eventually just hurting madly all the time. Due to spending my life since birth with the arthritis, I’ve learned to ignore pain, and so I ignored it. But eventually, on September 21, I was in total agony. I asked my sweet, beloved sister, Rosie, to come over. She said I was bleeding all over my bed—lying down was the only partly easier way to stay. She called 911 and off to the hospital I went. I was terrified to say it bluntly. I was admitted to the hospital that night.
It turned out I had an abscess on my left buttocks. There were a couple different ways to handle this. One was to do a colonoscopy to make sure nothing was going into the abscess, and the other was to operate on the abscess. On the day after I arrived, everything in my body was out of control. I’ve always, always, had normal blood pressure, but now it was bouncing around from low to high. My heart beat was erratic, and it’s always been steady. Rosie read all the medical note on my file—she is my medical proxy and has access to anything like that—and she says she thinks I was near sepsis and ICU. We tried the colonoscopy, though I dreaded it, but after two days of the treatment to clear the bowels, they still weren’t clearing. I guess I’d been constipated for a while. So, I had the surgery. The abscess was highly infected, but this was the very beginning of the road back.
The hospital people were incredible. I was impressed with how the nurses responded, how at change of shift, the exiting nurse introduced the incoming nurse to me. The food was good. the people were highly compassionate. I felt safe there, though I was still scared.
On the 29th, I was transferred to a rehab/skilled nursing facility. Life exploded. They spouted questions on me, like what kind of emergency treatment would I accept, what mortuary they should call should I die, and many others. I was so very scared. I was put in a room with two other women. One liked to run the TV loudly at all hours, and the other yelled at the staff who worked on her. Across the hall was a patient who day and night cried for help, for water, for the door to be opened or shut and so forth.
I will say the nurses and CNAs, certified nursing assistants, were mostly kind and took good care of me. But the night shift people were lax. Often, if I rang my call light, it might take them an hour or more to respond. The hospital always had someone answer right away.
Meals were horrible. Often spicy food and messy food, when you consider eating in bed. Try eating a bunch of rice while in bed. There was the standard meal and an alternate, but nobody would tell me what the options were. The rooms were supposed to have the menus, but mine didn’t. I had three decent meals: a cheeseburger patty, lasagna, and a cheese pizza. I just wanted to go home, to be able to sleep decently in my own bed, and to be able to eat food.
I was there four weeks. I did everything possible to be able to go home, worked with PT AND OT, followed the advice about healing the wound, cooperating as much as I could. But I was truly scared every day and night.
Here’s something funny in the midst of the horror. One a week the wound care doctor paid a visit. He rushed in, looked at my wound, mumbled something to the nurse helping him, said it was good, keep on doing the treatment, and then he rushed out. Doug called him Dr. doppler, and so he is to me forever and ever.
At last they started talking going home, and I was back in my sanctuary on the 31st of October. No, the wound is not totally healed yet. It needs treatment twice a day. I have home health care coming a couple times a week. My dear blessed neighbor does the treatment other days. Rosie has learned to do the treatment as well. everybody says the wound is getting smaller every day, and I’m hopeful.
I hadn’t mentioned this before, but I was supposed to start training with a new dog from Guiding Eyes for the Blind on september 30. Obviously, that did not happen. Providing I continue to heal, I will still be able to train with the dog once my doctor can say I am recovered enough to handle it. I’m not ready yet. the dog was trained especially for me, so she’s mine. I’m hopeful.
It’s been a very hard five weeks, and it’s not over yet. But I’m home, and all the people say improvement is coming along as it should. I try to move around, rest on my sides, instead of sleeping on my back or putting pressure on the wound. I still feel scared something, still worry, but mostly I’m feeling like I’m going to make it.
Doug’s dog Kenton has been sleeping on my bed almost every night, and I can’t express what a comfort he is. He drives away my fears and the nightmares. Good boy!
I’ll close by talking about the positive, the amazing support I’ve received from Doug, Rosie, and Julie. I could not have gotten through this without them. Rosie is a stalwart rock, giving me her love and support. She even bought a different car, because I couldn’t easily get in the one she had. When I said something like “but you love that car” she said, “I love you more.”
Julie is my neighbor and friend. She came to the care center to learn how to do the wound care and is the primary person for this in between home nurse visits. It’s an incredible act of caring and friendship.
Doug had just gone back home four days before I went in the hospital. He turned around and came back. He signed up for paratransit, used Lyft with mixed results as all guide dog handlers probably understand, just so he could get to the care center every day I was there. Now he’s staying a while longer, is cooking for me, helping me get dressed when my arthritis is out of control, listening to my concerns, and just being the amazing best friend he is. Oh, and he bought me a stuffed animal toy, an elephant! I love elephants.
I couldn’t ask for better signs of love and sticking by me than from these three people. May God bless them overwhelmingly.
sherrygomeswrites 