These hell-boots are made for sweatin'

The pump for the embolism boots came in at 4:30am. Since I was up anyway, the nurse went ahead and put them on me when he did my vitals.

I felt like a very uncomfortable medical marionette. I had an IV in my left hand. I had a blood pressure cuff on my right arm. If I moved with it, or it didn't get an accurate reading, it would just keep inflating until it got an "accurate" reading. I had the gauchos from hell in white vinyl on my legs. They were hot as they could be, sweaty, and inflated independently - so one or the other of them was always inflating at different time in different places. Plus, in between all this one-man-band of medical miracles, I was having to roll to my side to pee every 45-60 minutes, trying not to pee all over myself in the process. Had a possessed a shred of modesty, or had to do this for any real length of time, I might well have lost my mind. How they could think anyone could possibly sleep during any of this defies any reason.

As it was, I only had to do it for about two hours. Thank you Lord. That was enough. And thank you for morphine too.