Friday, January 30, 2009
Surgery, More Than The Incision and The Sutures.
I've been home three days since the surgery, and I want to thank you for leaving so many get well notes for me. My first day back I didn't feel up to posting, but checked for messages, and was quite surprised at such a long list of them. Thanks for your cares and for your prayers for me.
The surgery was suppose to be at 9:30 a.m., but having done this before, I knew the timing depended on lots of things, but I was there as scheduled, just in case, Some doctors and other members of the operating team explained that schedules, including my doctor's, were all messed up, for various reasons. But I'd dealt with this before, so just laid back, and tried to relax.
Nursing staff had me ready and waiting, in a holding place. The first person I saw when they wheeled me in there was a nurse's aide, a male aide I worked with long ago, His friendly, almost oversized smile was good to see, until he explained that he now worked in pre and post Op, and was suppose to make sure all details were done, before the operating room called for me. I still had my undies on, and knew that knee surgery does not require NOT wearing them. So we got that straightened out. I kept my undies on, and settled back, thankful the surgery would soon be done.
I am lying there dreading it a little, when I hear a friendly voice calling my name.
My pastor took time to be with me until they wheeled me off to surgery. Talk about a morale booster. Someone needed more medical information about me, and asked if it was alright for my pastor to hear it. I told them I don't keep many secrets from him.
Soon a friendly nurse with operating room cap on, and some other muscles wheel me through flapping doors, and I know this knee pain will soon be gone. Somebody inserts something in my IV site, and my next recollection is waking up in a room reserved for me. A very nice room.
Years ago I had surgery here, but it wasn't like this. The room is huge! It has lots of strange looking equipment, and a computer screen. A very big window faces West. I am not thinking about mountains this moment, but the two days I stayed there, one could imagine deep luxury, just looking through those windows, at Colorado's mountain peaks.
With the nursing staff, I am almost in orbit. They love working with a patient who knows why they do what they do. We exchange nursing and medical stories. Anything I can do for myself, I do, instead of calling them. They are very surprised how many patients nurses take care of in nursing homes, and other trademarks of the work we do.
The surgery went very well, and the care could not be better. A friend I already love so much, I now appreciate more. She is my pastor's mother, a lady who always has much to do, especially for the sick and the poor. Whatever is needed, she is on it. Takes people to doctor appointments, runs errands for medicine, groceries, anything. She tools around all over this place, in her little Neon. If I were wealthy, I would buy her a brand new car. That first day afrer surgery, she came early, and stayed all day. My pastor came back too. My friend fed me ice chips. When I was nausieated she held the bedside pan for me.
I consider myself so fortunate, but I do have something heavy on my heart. The day before my surgery my grandson, who wasn't headed in a good direction with his life, before making a big improvement in it, had finished his first week of college classes, and was partying, maybe celebrating this accomplishment, by hanging out with some buddies. All of this is moving too fast to understand yet.
Several guys started beating up his friend, and he went to his defence, and ended up with his jaw severely broken, and other injuries, and had to have emergency surgery. To his credit, this grandson only missed one scheduled class, and his instructor helped him work out how to keep up with it. This week he was promoted to a higher level in another subject. He shows up for his classes, with his bruises and broken jaw, and a huge shiner. I see that as a very good sign. The day I was admitted for this surgery, my son took me to that part of the hospital, then went up a few floors to take his son home from there.
But back to my healing time. I am up and down the hospital halls, gaining strength every moment I can. Medical insurance no longer covers as much of my needed care, as they did long ago. Every day I am here costs me two hundred dollars more. I make sure my doctor knows how well I'm doing, and he lets me come home two days after surgery. Pre-op instructions said not to bring valuables with me, so I assumed that included credit card, and brought only identification.
We live not so far away, so zip back home for check or cards, and then are at WalMart, because they give a good cost break on most prescriptions I need filing.
In trying to help me with getting to their pharmacy, my son gets one of those dangerous looking carts people tool around in the store, and helps me get in it. I am afraid I'll run over somebody. With typical male thinking, my son just shows me how to warn them by tooting a horn, and assumes that takes care of it. I'm about as afraid of tapping that horn, as I am of having to spend time in a nursing home for my leg to heal.
Two customers are looking at items in a lane I need to go down. I'm about to go to another aisle, when the first person I asked to let me go by trys to get the customer ahead of her, who is in the middle of that aisle to move over, and he takes offence at being disturbed, I guess, and loudly tells me what he thinks about it.
Even sitting down, I am not real up to this. and I sure don't want conflict. I could have let my son come in for the meds, but if the doctor ordered expensive ones I might get cheaper, or maybe stuff I don't even need, I wanted to be there to take care of that. I'm about to look for a different way to get to the pharmacy window. I still have trouble trying to drive that thing, and don't speak at all, so I don't upset the man any more. He kind of flaps around me with a big flourish, saying things like, "You had enough room to get by. I am not that big" "Is this enough room for you, Honey? He really emphasizes Honey, in an ugly kind of way. and I am glad that my son, my six foot four inches tall son, is a few aisles away, not seeing this, or it might have been worse. and more trips to ER, to fix the damage. I will not mention this to him. He has more than enough to deal with. taking care of my grandson, who cannot have regular foods, only liquuids. I am so relieved when that ugly man walks away from the area.
Turns out the meds are a very good price. It is nice to learn something good. Between the pain, and being upset about the man being so rude, I don't think to ask the pharmisist to give me bottle caps that are not child proof. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to open those kid proof ones.
My second day at home the visiting nurse person is here, with reams of technical papers to deal with. The next day a woman from Physical Therapy arrives, and procedes to tell me equipment I should run right out and get. but does not help me with that.
I try to tell her that the exercises she recommends are exactly the same as the hospital PT dpt. taught, to be sure I know how to do them. After all, I am eager to get well. I show her the sheet of exercises are the very same as the hospital sent me home with. I try to tell her I've also had a total knee replacement. and understand the need for PT. I try to tell her that I've done nursing for twenty seven years, and know how to take care of a patient like me. She does not seem to hear. Is not interested in anything I say.
She may as well be working an assembly line. Everything she says has to be in a certain order. She is so stuck in monologue mode, I cannot communicate with her. If the hospital or someone at the doctor's office can't help me find better physical therapy care, I will do the exercises by myself. The man who was so ugly at Wal Mart is only a sad ship that sometimes passes in our life. These past few days have thrown me into overload. But love and loving care keep me afloat. I am hanging on to the happiness and tender care people, like so many of you, bring; and look forward to the hope in our tomorrows.
The surgery was suppose to be at 9:30 a.m., but having done this before, I knew the timing depended on lots of things, but I was there as scheduled, just in case, Some doctors and other members of the operating team explained that schedules, including my doctor's, were all messed up, for various reasons. But I'd dealt with this before, so just laid back, and tried to relax.
Nursing staff had me ready and waiting, in a holding place. The first person I saw when they wheeled me in there was a nurse's aide, a male aide I worked with long ago, His friendly, almost oversized smile was good to see, until he explained that he now worked in pre and post Op, and was suppose to make sure all details were done, before the operating room called for me. I still had my undies on, and knew that knee surgery does not require NOT wearing them. So we got that straightened out. I kept my undies on, and settled back, thankful the surgery would soon be done.
I am lying there dreading it a little, when I hear a friendly voice calling my name.
My pastor took time to be with me until they wheeled me off to surgery. Talk about a morale booster. Someone needed more medical information about me, and asked if it was alright for my pastor to hear it. I told them I don't keep many secrets from him.
Soon a friendly nurse with operating room cap on, and some other muscles wheel me through flapping doors, and I know this knee pain will soon be gone. Somebody inserts something in my IV site, and my next recollection is waking up in a room reserved for me. A very nice room.
Years ago I had surgery here, but it wasn't like this. The room is huge! It has lots of strange looking equipment, and a computer screen. A very big window faces West. I am not thinking about mountains this moment, but the two days I stayed there, one could imagine deep luxury, just looking through those windows, at Colorado's mountain peaks.
With the nursing staff, I am almost in orbit. They love working with a patient who knows why they do what they do. We exchange nursing and medical stories. Anything I can do for myself, I do, instead of calling them. They are very surprised how many patients nurses take care of in nursing homes, and other trademarks of the work we do.
The surgery went very well, and the care could not be better. A friend I already love so much, I now appreciate more. She is my pastor's mother, a lady who always has much to do, especially for the sick and the poor. Whatever is needed, she is on it. Takes people to doctor appointments, runs errands for medicine, groceries, anything. She tools around all over this place, in her little Neon. If I were wealthy, I would buy her a brand new car. That first day afrer surgery, she came early, and stayed all day. My pastor came back too. My friend fed me ice chips. When I was nausieated she held the bedside pan for me.
I consider myself so fortunate, but I do have something heavy on my heart. The day before my surgery my grandson, who wasn't headed in a good direction with his life, before making a big improvement in it, had finished his first week of college classes, and was partying, maybe celebrating this accomplishment, by hanging out with some buddies. All of this is moving too fast to understand yet.
Several guys started beating up his friend, and he went to his defence, and ended up with his jaw severely broken, and other injuries, and had to have emergency surgery. To his credit, this grandson only missed one scheduled class, and his instructor helped him work out how to keep up with it. This week he was promoted to a higher level in another subject. He shows up for his classes, with his bruises and broken jaw, and a huge shiner. I see that as a very good sign. The day I was admitted for this surgery, my son took me to that part of the hospital, then went up a few floors to take his son home from there.
But back to my healing time. I am up and down the hospital halls, gaining strength every moment I can. Medical insurance no longer covers as much of my needed care, as they did long ago. Every day I am here costs me two hundred dollars more. I make sure my doctor knows how well I'm doing, and he lets me come home two days after surgery. Pre-op instructions said not to bring valuables with me, so I assumed that included credit card, and brought only identification.
We live not so far away, so zip back home for check or cards, and then are at WalMart, because they give a good cost break on most prescriptions I need filing.
In trying to help me with getting to their pharmacy, my son gets one of those dangerous looking carts people tool around in the store, and helps me get in it. I am afraid I'll run over somebody. With typical male thinking, my son just shows me how to warn them by tooting a horn, and assumes that takes care of it. I'm about as afraid of tapping that horn, as I am of having to spend time in a nursing home for my leg to heal.
Two customers are looking at items in a lane I need to go down. I'm about to go to another aisle, when the first person I asked to let me go by trys to get the customer ahead of her, who is in the middle of that aisle to move over, and he takes offence at being disturbed, I guess, and loudly tells me what he thinks about it.
Even sitting down, I am not real up to this. and I sure don't want conflict. I could have let my son come in for the meds, but if the doctor ordered expensive ones I might get cheaper, or maybe stuff I don't even need, I wanted to be there to take care of that. I'm about to look for a different way to get to the pharmacy window. I still have trouble trying to drive that thing, and don't speak at all, so I don't upset the man any more. He kind of flaps around me with a big flourish, saying things like, "You had enough room to get by. I am not that big" "Is this enough room for you, Honey? He really emphasizes Honey, in an ugly kind of way. and I am glad that my son, my six foot four inches tall son, is a few aisles away, not seeing this, or it might have been worse. and more trips to ER, to fix the damage. I will not mention this to him. He has more than enough to deal with. taking care of my grandson, who cannot have regular foods, only liquuids. I am so relieved when that ugly man walks away from the area.
Turns out the meds are a very good price. It is nice to learn something good. Between the pain, and being upset about the man being so rude, I don't think to ask the pharmisist to give me bottle caps that are not child proof. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to open those kid proof ones.
My second day at home the visiting nurse person is here, with reams of technical papers to deal with. The next day a woman from Physical Therapy arrives, and procedes to tell me equipment I should run right out and get. but does not help me with that.
I try to tell her that the exercises she recommends are exactly the same as the hospital PT dpt. taught, to be sure I know how to do them. After all, I am eager to get well. I show her the sheet of exercises are the very same as the hospital sent me home with. I try to tell her I've also had a total knee replacement. and understand the need for PT. I try to tell her that I've done nursing for twenty seven years, and know how to take care of a patient like me. She does not seem to hear. Is not interested in anything I say.
She may as well be working an assembly line. Everything she says has to be in a certain order. She is so stuck in monologue mode, I cannot communicate with her. If the hospital or someone at the doctor's office can't help me find better physical therapy care, I will do the exercises by myself. The man who was so ugly at Wal Mart is only a sad ship that sometimes passes in our life. These past few days have thrown me into overload. But love and loving care keep me afloat. I am hanging on to the happiness and tender care people, like so many of you, bring; and look forward to the hope in our tomorrows.
