Chapter 2: Medical Outlook

About ten minutes after Frank left, Dale called out for Lynn.

“I have to piss. Do we have one of those, uh, urinal things I can use?”

“I do. However, you forgot to use the magic word.”

“What the FUCK! Shit! If you don’t give me that thing, I’ll wet the bed!”

“You want to lay in your own filth; that’s up to you. Dale, I am DONE being your slave. You want to live in relative dignity while your body mends; the way is open to you. But it will be on MY terms, not yours. What happens next? It’s your decision. From now on, you want something? You ASK. You’re POLITE. To me and to our children.

“Now, do you have something to say to me?”

“May I please have the urinal, Lynn?”

“Yes, here you go. I hope, as time passes, you will be able to ask me without sounding like you’re straining to push a football-sized turd out of your bowels. OK, I’ll take that from you and dump your pee. I’ll leave it with you, within arm’s reach.

“I’ll bring you some lunch in a couple of hours. I’m going to spend that time reviewing your documents from the hospital.”

// FINAL RECOMMENDATIONS FOR D. LOOMIS, by C. Gillis, RN, MS

Patient injuries are as follows: Complex fractures of the pelvis, left hip joint, left femur, and left knee. All from the crushing impact of an auto accident. Orthopedic surgeries are complete, but many months of healing will be needed. He will be bedridden for perhaps 12 to 16 months before he can try to walk with crutches. It is unlikely he will ever again be able to walk with a normal gait.

During his convalescence, he will need access to a urinal and a bedpan. As in the hospital setting, diapers are NOT recommended. Unless he has skilled nursing, his family will have to take care of him at the bedside, including feeding, washing, and dressing. At least once a week, his sheets should be changed. More frequently if they are soiled.

When his pelvis heals sufficiently, he should be put into a sitting position for at least an hour each day. As he continues to heal, the amount of sitting time should be increased, as much as he can tolerate. Before he is able to sit, he needs to be moved and shifted around. And he needs to be rolled up on his sides periodically. All of these movements are necessary to avoid bedsores.

If financially possible, some amount of skilled nursing assistance is necessary to provide respite for the family caregivers and monitoring of the patient’s status. If a nurse is not available, an experienced aide would be helpful.

In addition, there are a number of books that can provide helpful guidance for families who are trying to care for a bedridden elder. A list of these is provided in the appendix. //

At lunchtime, Lynn brought Dale a sandwich and two of the little 7 ounce boxes of apple juice that kids in grade school might have with their lunches. And then, when his sandwich and the juice were finished, he realized he needed the bedpan.

“I’m sorry, Lynn, I’m afraid I need to, well, poop. I’m sorry, but can you help me with the bedpan? Please?”

She studied her husband for a moment. She saw he was embarrassed. But he was ASKING! At the same time, though, he was still seething and infuriated. She thought she might be hearing the sound of his teeth grinding.

“All right, Dale, I’ll get it for you. Do you need help?”

“Oh, fuck me. Yes, I can’t maneuver; I can’t get the damn thing underneath my ass. Or get my pants down. This was hard enough when the nurses would do it for me. Shit. Never mind, just give me the thing, and I’ll figure it out myself.”

Skeptically, Lynn handed the pan over without comment and left him alone. She took up her position just around the corner where she could hear him, but she was out of his sight.

She heard a steady stream of curses coming from the bed as he wrestled with his clothing. Writhing left-and-right, he slowly worked at the waistband of his pants, moving them down inch-by-inch. Just as he got the pants past the protruding point of his still-painful hip, his motion dislodged the stainless steel bedpan, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Fuck me! LYNN! LYNN!”

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you hear? I dropped the fucking bedpan. Pick it up!”

“Why aren’t your pants off?”

“Fuck! Bitch, I’m about to shit myself! Don’t fuck with me, just give me the damn bedpan.”

Lynn glared at him, turned on her heel and stomped out, angrily.