Freedom is not just another word

 Earlier in the day, I struggled with what to write. OK, I'd completed the first trifecta of treatments: 500 ml of curing chemicals/poison coursing through my veins, 4 chunky tablets down the hatch and a shot in the belly repeated at 4 am. 

None of it made me react in any way (other than needing to urinate a bit more urgently). And therein lies the rub.

Because I had come in to the hospital in pretty bad shape, I was assigned as needing assistance at all times, entailing:

--a bed alarm sounding like your worst gym teacher if I moved off center

--wires and tubes connecting: oxygen from nose to wall, a self-contained (thank goodness) heart monitor, an IV and a Pic line with two outlets directly from my heart to the Christmas tree-like IV pole that held an ever-changing array of antibiotics, blood products, saline solution to keep me hydrated and various other pharmaceuticals

--a Velcro sleeve connected to a pump that keeps my legs from developing clots cuz I'm stuck in bed...

--the hospital gown is also a key to the level of assistance needed and for 7 fulldays mine has been the most barf-worthy mustard color

--ever-vigilant (weeell, usually) staff.

So, if I needed to remove any of said LIQUIDs from my system, I had to call staff to unhook me and help me to the commode or toilet. I quickly learned that "I'll be right there" could mean anything from 3 to 45 minutes (I am not, after all ,the only person here). Add in that my 63-year-old bladder is not the most patient on its best days, and  we had a forecast for frequent flash flooding.

Us Boomers have driven huge advances in incontinence products, so it wasn't too much of a problem but still a bit annoying when you prefer not to have to ask for every little thing.

So it was a great thrill  when the nurses at shift change this afternoon announced they were going to give me a test, and if I passed I could be independent. I've traditionally been a good student with no real anxiety about testing, but this was truly a pop quiz.  

They disarmed the gym teacher voice and I unhooked my leg brace/clot prevention system. Properly instructed, I pulled the giant plugs from the wall (never touch the red outlets) and dragged myself, the IVpole and roughly 20 feel of oxygen tubing to the toilet and back. Success!

I'll likely mess up at least once, but hopefully will not fall on my face, arm, IV or other critical piece. 

The piece de resistance:  I graduate to a much calmer blue gown (when they get to it,). I am free!

And just in time, as I expect the next day or so to bring on any nasty side effects and I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if I got anything on the old gown.