He pushed the morphine into my IV slowly. After a second or two I got a strange taste in my mouth and nearly simultaneously a mild, but perceptable pressure behind my eyes. As soon as that passed I felt vaguely nauseated for a moment then felt the edge being knocked off the pain.
He stood over me glancing at his watch. He could tell I was better and asked,"A little better? Yeah, thanks I replied weakly. I hope the best for you, here is your call light. Just call if you need anything. I'm going off duty."
He stepped out leaving me alone.
Suddenly I started spraying bloody vomit out of my mouth- projectile sheets of bright red blood, first in the sink and then in the trash.
"Help me. Help me." I called out weakly. Then black vomit started coming out. After this then just unbelievable dry heaves- crippling. The force of the heaves made blood come out of my rectum. I could not even open the door to get anybodies attention I was so weak.
"Help me." I croaked. I couldn't lift my hands. I banged my head on the door to get attention.
To be continued.
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1 comment:
i can only imagine that i would believe i was dying...and then to not be able to call for help...at least in a way that is heard...
i'm still amazed that you were treated the way you were... on the surface it appears so incompetent...but then as a former nurse i also realize that what was going on outside your room may well have been the business of the hospital and not just lack of quality care...
i hate to think that you were that sick and that the quality of care would be so low and nonchalant...
and i know this experience made you a more compassionate and aware nurse
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