Walkies!

At 9:00 (i.e., three hours after I left the recovery room) the Patient Care Technician appears and tells me it's time to get up. 

First step, "dangling." She helps me lean forward and twist so I'm sitting up and my legs are hanging off the edge of the bed. Based on earlier conversation I figure we're done, but she pushes me on to step two. Standing. She wraps a strap around my torso under my arms so she can "stop me from falling"* and has me stand up. We move slowly, but I'm soon on my feet. Then she asks if I want to try to walk to the door. What the heck? We've made it this far. As we walk she explains that for my type of surgery walking is essential to healing. I need to keep moving so I can trick my colon into recovering from its "insult" and getting back to work. 

I fear she may come to regret telling me this. 

Given the motivational speech, when we get to the door I suggest trying for the end of the hall. She shrugs and we make the turn. It must take ten minutes but we make to the end of the hall and back, at which point I'm exhausted and climb back in bed to sleep. 

But I'm awake again at 3:00 and ready for round two. This time I outlast the tech. After three circuits to the end of the hall and back when I tell her I want to continue she confers with the nurse and then lets me continue alone. I'm now officially "independent" and so free to proceed on my own. I check the clock every time I pass the nurse's station and commit to making it forty-five minutes. 

I'm not the only patient walking the hallway in the middle of the night. Some of the passing conversations serve as useful reminders that things can always be worse.

* I must have eighteen inches and fifty pounds on her so all I can say is, good luck with that. If I start to go down, I'm going down. But it's a nice gesture.