This table has four sturdy legs
And a heart of very near wild oak
When others would have screamed out loud my friend
This one never even spoke
The wake up call was sudden and swift, a jolt of vaguely familiar wetness. It’s 2am up and shower and change. Half an hour later another jolt, another shower another change and so it continues for the rest of the night until by 8am the body is so exhausted it collapses onto a pile of towels and falls into a deep sleep.
About 9pm that night it starts again. A trip to the medical centre a 2 hour wait, a script and a letter for the emergency room in case it gets worse but it seems to be slowing.
At 2am a jolt a wake up call, a flood. There is no other word for it a flood. Change upon change, towels nothing is easing it. A change again and feet now encased in rhino slippers, the hubby is awoken to go to the emergency room.
She sits in the triage room with the nurse and apologises for the mess left behind. Her cheeks burn with embarassment. The nurse is kind, this just makes her feel worse.
They move her to a bed, she sits nervous and fidgetty more than aware of the white sheet on the bed. She makes polite conversation as a different nurse inserts a canula. She stares down at her rhino feet and wipes the tear out of her eye before it has a chance to drop.
She sits stiff unmoving wanting to minimise the flood, minimise the damage to the stark white sheet. The hubby is right there with her and holding her hand.
The wait for a doctor begins and continues and continues. The nurses check on her. The NUM checks on her and eventually so does the doctor. He fires off questions so fast she stammers.
She is grateful he doesn’t examine her. There is something judgemental and cynical about him.
He motions for her to get up to see a “lady doctor”, he gasps when he sees the pool that the flooding created. She cringes, she had tried so hard not to ruin the sheet, the heat reaches her cheeks again she mumbles apologies and stares at her rhinos as she walks.
She overhears the doctor warning the “lady doctor” about the mess and she is about to cringe when she hears the “lady doctor” say “Well what do you expect, the poor woman”.
The new doctor is gentle. She acts questions in a kind way and is understanding. She explains that an internal has to be conducted and when the apologies come for the flooding on the floor, the doctor tells her that she needs to stop saying sorry for something she cannot control.
Afterwards she explains to her that the flooding is preventing them from knowing what is causing it. That medication needs to be taken to stop the flooding so that further testing can be undertaken. She explains that there is nothing normal about what is being experienced.
When they are alone still staring at her rhinos she whispers to her husband….what if this means we can’t have children? “Well then we’ll just get more pugs”.
<Linking up with the gorgeous Jess because writing on a Tuesday can be therapeutic>