I know being in the hospital, one can expect little sleep...but this story just makes me laugh. After spending all night and some of the next day in an emergency department cubicle with only a curtain for a door, I was absolutely exhausted by the time I got to my critical care unit room. I was grateful for a door on my room. However, I could never imagine so many people would visit me.
As the day progresses, an endless stream of people drift through my room—nurses, nursing assistants, respiratory therapists, food service workers, a doctor, a speech therapist, etc, etc. Finally, when the clock is nearly ten at night, I think I might have a reprieve. I try to sleep. However, my mind is overtired and cannot shut down. Around midnight, exhaustion hits me like a brick wall. I know I do not bother to sleep because I have a breathing treatment and antibiotics scheduled for midnight.
At 12:10 a.m., the respitory therapist enters my room. The treatment runs for 20 minutes. The therapist returns at 12:38 a.m. to disconnect the nebulizer. He leaves. At 1:10 a.m. my nurse enters my room to hook up some IV antibiotics. After five minutes, she leaves. At 2:20 a.m., my antibiotics are finished, and my IV machine beeps. Three minutes later, my nurse is my room with another IV antibiotic. She turns off the first antibiotic and sets up the second. She leaves around 2:35 a.m.
At 3:15 a.m., the nursing assistant wakes me up. “Time to take your vitals.” She does her job and leaves after a few minutes. At 4:10 a.m., a phlebotomist walks into my room. “Time to draw your blood.” The phlebotomist tells me the only veins he can use are the ones in my hands. I sternly tell him I have a PICC line. Draw my blood from there. He tells me he cannot do that, but my nurse can. He leaves my room and summons my nurse.
At 4:30 a.m., my nurse enters my room. She draws blood from my PICC line for my blood work and transfers the blood into several viles. She labels the viles and enters some information into her computer. After ten minutes, she leaves. At 5:47 a.m., I am abruptly woken up when my ventilator tubing accumulates water and spits it down my trach tube and into my lungs. I have a violent coughing fit. During my coughing attack, my nurse enters my room. My second IV antibiotic is finished. She disconnects the tubing and resets the IV machine.
At 6:15 a.m., a respiratory therapist is back in my room. Time for another breathing treatment. Twenty minutes pass, and the therapist returns to disconnect the nebulizer. At 7 a.m., a food service worker delivers my breakfast tray. At 7:30 a.m., the nursing assistant is back in my room to take another round of vitals. At 8 a.m., my nurse walks into my room to start another round of IV antibiotics. At 8:30 a.m., a physician’s assistant visits me.
At 9:15 a.m., my mom pocket dials me. At 9:45 a.m., my day nurse enters my room to do her shift assessment. At 10:15, two physical therapists knock on my door. Time for physical therapy. They do some exercises on my legs and have me raise up and down my shoulders. I make them do most of the work as my body is starting to shake from sleep deprivation. At 10:30 a.m., they leave. At 10:45 a.m., a food service worker knocks on my door and asks what I want for lunch. At 11 a.m., housekeeping comes and cleans my room. At 11:15 a.m., a respiratory therapist gives me another breathing treatment. At 11:30 a.m., a nursing assistant comes and takes my vital signs. At 11:40 a.m., a respiratory therapist student comes and disconnects me from the nebulizer.
At noon, my nurse returns to give me some medicine. At 12:15 p.m., my lunch tray arrives. As much as I long to sleep, I decide with the arrival of my lunch, I will give up trying to drift off to slumberland. Some day I will get some sleep...but that day is not today.
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