Pre-op was a week ago today. I saw my doctor and a nurse I’d never met. The nurse drew my blood so the hospital lab could, in the doctor’s words, “get to know me.” When she drew the blood, she also gave me a plastic wristband. It’s red with a clear rectangular window for a custom label.
Said label is customized with my name and birthday, my doctor’s name, a bar code, and the date and time of my surgery. She told me once she fastened it, I was not to take it off until I arrived at the hospital.
She looked at me and paused to let it sink in. So you’ll have to keep this on over a week.
I blinked, taking this into consideration. You’re welcome to come back and draw blood in a few days if that’s too long. I wasn’t excited about it, but I thought it a waste of time to return. I can take showers with it? I confirmed. For a week?
It’ll be fine. Just leave it on.
So she drew the blood and fastened the bracelet around my wrist. She even gave me flesh-colored gauze to hide it if I wanted (a pretty close match to my actual flesh!). And for the most part I forgot about it. It didn’t irritate me as I thought it might. I am not self-conscious about it. I more or less forgot about it.
And just like that, a week came and went.
Tomorrow, when I check in for surgery, we’ll swap it with a new one.
Sorry to hear about your mothers coitidnon.We are all praying for your mother and may God give you the strength during these times heartache and despair.God bless you and your family, Debra.