Don't Call Me Sweetie, Sweetie!

After delivery when we finally got back to our room and my parents arrived. It was so good to see them and I was especially happy Dad could make it during tax season. They stayed at our house while we both slept at the hospital. Andy slept on the cot provided by the hospital. Apparently Scripps La Jolla is considered the Four Star hospital for delivery and recovery, but if you asked Andy, he would say his back is still sore a week later. We had a private room with bathroom and shower and fantastic nurses. During delivery they give you one nurse per patient and she rarely left my room. During my recovery it was hard to get used to having a new nurse evey 12 hours and inevitably we didn't like one nurse at the beginning of the shift but always managed to change our minds by the end. Well, with the exception of two nurses.


The most difficult part of my recovery stay was getting up for the first time. I h ave to say it might have been harder than labor itself. The C-Section incision was very painful and it was supposed to help my recovery to get up and try to walk. They wanted me to try and get up the first day and chose 4 am for me to give this a shot. Now, first I am NOT a morning person and did not appreciate being woken up so I could walk, especially at that hour. The two nurses that came in already had 2 strikes against them just by the hour itself, but continued on their downward spiral very quickly. One nurse would try and pull me one way and the other was going a different direction. They did not tell me what they were trying to do and were not communicating with each other which resulted in a big cluster of frustration for me and probably them as wll. One was pulling me to the left, one was pulling me up, then once up, one nurse was trying to help me stand and the other was trying to change my hospital gown. I finally told them "Enough, you two are really hurting me, please, can we do one thing at a time?!?" I remember looking over at Andy with this pleading look in my eye hoping he would help me, but there wasn't much he could do. Once I sat up, completely traumatized, I told them I'd had enough for now, they congratulated me telling me that sitting up itself was the hardest part. "Yeah, thanks, now get the hell away from me" was the movie playing in my head. Did I mention that one nurse kept calling me "Sweetie" the whole time? Just shoot me.