Groundhog Day

As no news continues to be good news :->, I feel like I'm living in a perpetual state of Groundhog Day. (For those of you who haven't seen the movie--it's the ultimate deja vu story with Bill Murray reliving the same day over and over again.)

And for those of you who've asked what I do all day, here's the basic rundown:

Wake up

Bedpan and Vitals (Blood pressure and temp)

Blood draw (nothing says good morning like, "This will just hurt a bit." Also, I will never look at Easter candy, specifically malted milk balls, the same way again since that's what the rubber tourniquet they use smells like...I used to think it was the lab tech's perfume until I realized they all smelled the same.)

Order Breakfast, wait for breakfast, eat breakfast, swallow med and vitamin cocktail

Bedpan

Prep for trip to antenatal unit downstairs for ultrasound, doc consult and LOTS of waiting in between. In the hallway. On a gurney. This reminds me, someday in the future when I graduate to hospital visitor, I will not stare at people on gurneys, or peek into open rooms. Patients do not like to be viewed as circus animals (although some of the smells may be deceptively similar).

Return to room for bedpan, vitals and the highly-anticipated teeth-brushing and sponge bath...although there's actually no sponge involved...more like heavy-duty paper towels that they creatively refer to as "washcloths." On very special occasions (OK, it's only happened twice so far, both in the past few days), the nurse will edge me to the end of the bed, tuck a trash bag under my shoulders and neck, and give me a hair wash with REAL shampoo. Now that's living! Several times before, I've been given a new-fangled shower cap with built-in soap and water. Simply microwave cap for 15 seconds, put on, massage with fingers for 2 minutes and, voila--damp hair that is oddly neither clean or dirty.

Order lunch, wait for lunch, eat lunch

Bedpan and vitals

Read, blog, surf the net, talk on the phone (which contrary to what teenage Laurie would have believed, can get tiring), do crosswords, watch TV, nap, spend time with visitors, count ceiling tiles, stare out the window--with my bird's-eye view of the medic helicopter taking off and landing, daydream about anything my wild imagination can conjure up, etc.

Bedpan

Order dinner, wait for dinner, eat dinner

Sometimes more visitors, including my sweet Grace and Eric--although E has spent many days and nights here on a too-small cot so he too has shared in the monotony. Not exactly hot dates, but we've had fun. And the nurses enjoy his creative decorations, including my beach display, 4th of July tribute, customized check-off calendar, etc. Clever boy!

Bedpan and vitals

More reading, TV, etc. (see above)

Sleep, with several interruptions for bedpan, vitals, etc.

Repeat previous day's activities, with very minor changes, like what I order to eat.

Also, you may have noticed a pattern with the bedpan. It's a catch 22...they tell me to drink, drink, drink, but with my ever-shrinking bladder, it's gotta go somewhere. And, yes, I've made some humorous observations regarding the whole bedpan experience, but best not shared in mixed company.

That said, it's not exactly riveting around here, but boring is good when it means more time for Jake to cook. So here's to Groundhog Day--and hopefully many more to come!