After surgery and the Recovery Room, I got to my room and met with relatives, ate a TV dinner and drank stale coffee. I had a catheter for urine attached to a big bag hung on the side of my bed (Gross, huh? To me, too), a drain tube from my incision to a little clear plastic “grenade” pinned to the side of my gown and finally, an IV in my arm attached to one of those multi-box “doing its thing” IV machines. It was plugged into the wall outlet for power, had lights blinking, gauges and all. It force-fed my vein meds and fluids. At this time, the IV was force-feeding me the second of four bags of antibiotics, a big, clear bag of Lactated Ringer’s Solution and was attached to an “on demand” Morphine drip thing with "The Button". I’d heard wondrous things about this machine with it's "Magic Button" yet I rarely used it. I hated all these tubes and restrictions they imposed on my movement. Tried to sleep, to no avail. Unfortunately (or fortunately), after surgery, they come in and check your vitals every fifteen minutes for the first few hours. If you could sleep, it wouldn’t be for very long. No matter what I did, how I rested, one side or the other, I couldn't’t sleep. Things like, “Don’t roll that way dummy – you’ll squash your drain grenade”, "Ouch, don't turn that way, dummy, it hurts more" and "Don't turn that way, dummy, you're tangling all the tubes". Every little change in position forced me to watch out for all the tubes and grenade. As a matter of fact, I didn’t sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Just wasn't sleepy. Tired, defineatly, sleepy, no. Throughout the night, when a CNA came to check my vitals, I could hear them walk in, quiet as they tried. I would just raise an arm and say, “Vitals”. They’d do their job and be gone in a minute or two. Throughout the night, I was the best patient on the floor. No whining, no “nurse call-light” button pushing. In the almost two days after surgery, before I was released, I never pushed the button once. Charlene taught me well.
About 8 A.M. Saturday, I called home and talked to Charlene. I let her know I was fine and being a model prisoner. A generic breakfast came and I devoured it all, including the hot tea (no coffee with a generic meal). I filled out my meal request for the next two days and watched TV or read magazines or just laid on my side. Charlene, Nic, Trav and Cuz’n Kent came in about 10:30 that morning with a Venti Starbucks Black Coffee. Oooh! It was like heaven. Cuz'n Kent brought a beautiful fancy potted plant and Charlene brought one of our Cleome blossoms. We had a good time for an hour or so and they returned home. I couldn’t sleep. Back to TV, magazines and vitals. Lunch came (just tea again) but I devoured it. I was gaining strength and energy. Three and a half days of clear liquid diet had defineatly ended. Then, they came in to give me instructions on how to sit up safely (barrel roll, they called it). It was time to see if I could walk. Nurse on one side, pushing my IV stand with one hand, other hand holding the giant belt around my chest should something go wrong. The CNA was on my other side, carrying my catheter drain bag with one hand, holding my arm with the other. It was wonderful to be mobile again. Really, really sore lower back but wonderful. All the tubes made it a hassle but I didn’t care – I was vertical and mobile. They had a step platform in the hallway for me to practice going up a step and coming back down on the other side. I almost dragged both of them. I wanted to walk and they purposely slowed me down. They didn’t understand that in the first time in almost a year, I could stand up straight and walk, both without pain and having both my legs going numb quickly. A really, really sore back, but no killer pain, no numbness. Once around the “block” and back to bed. I requested and insisted they remove the catheter. Approval came a hour later and it was removed. One tube down, two to go. It was the worst tube of all, though. My surgeon came in and checked everything and was surprised how well I was recovering. He said that after my 4th and last bag of antibiotics was finished, they could remove the IV. That would come a few hours later.
Charlene worked the surgery floor that evening but they purposely assigned someone else to take care of me. Something about hospital policy. She came in and saw me when she could but was very busy with her patients. Around 6 P.M., I got approval to walk by myself whenever I wanted. Cool. I would just unplug the IV “maze on wheels” power cord, wrap my tube and power cord around one of the magic injection boxes and it would be "Me and IV" taking a stroll. I was a busy walker, seeing Charlene now and then . I’d go “around the block” several times until my back told me, “Enough for now, Idiot”. I would return to bed and lay horizontal for a while. As the evening wore on, I walked more often, probably a quarter mile that night. I even ‘buddy-walked” with someone who was recovering from surgery the previous day. That was nice for both of us, pushing our IV’s, talking. Dinner was served and I gobbled it down with cafeteria coffee which was barely “OK” (said in a whiny voice). Finally, after my fourth bag of antibiotics dried up, they removed the IV. Two tubes down, one to go. Then shear exhaustion hit and I could sleep sporadically. About 11:30 P.M., Charlene stopped in to say Good-bye and left for the night. I slept off and on throughout the night. When I sensed a CNA was coming in to check vitals I would sleepily raise an arm, get checked and go back to my off-and-on pattern of sleep.
About 7 Sunday morning I heard someone come in and raised my arm for vitals but it was my surgeon. He checked me over, pronounced me better than expected and removed my drain tube. Any of you that have had drain tubes removed know the procedure. They pull it real hard, real fast. Hurts like hell for a few minutes but I just replaced the pain with the thought that I was free of all tubes. We talked and he answered my questions. I also ask the Doc if I could go home now and he replied that since I was doing much better than expected he saw no reason for me to stay. He wrote a prescription for strong painkillers (which I have yet to open) and gave the nurses instructions for my release. Extremely cool! I called Charlene and told her the great news but that I had to wait until after breakfast was served for it to happen (it’s a busy time with meals). My army of relatives showed up around 10-ish and I was out the door and home again.
In the week since, I’ve gotten less sore, enjoyed walking a lot, heard Charlene tell me, “You can’t do that, you just had surgery” about a million times. I sat her down and explained that I have to be back to work in 4 weeks in a healthy, hardy body. I cannot jeopardize that and knew my limitations imposed by my surgeon and the pain. But she still watches me like a hawk. Her college classes started Monday. I’m usually the ‘alarm clock’ guy in the mornings so Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I got her up at 5 A.M. for her to get ready for her “Nursing 20” classes. She has to be at the hospital in "dress whites" by 6:30 A.M. three days a week until mid-afternoon. I made her breakfast the first two days which drove her crazy. It made no sense to her that I was up cooking instead on flat on my back. My body enjoyed the activity. In the evenings, I’d take Nic or Trav with me for a walk down the street and back after dark. It was good to be able to walk again. Now, Saturday a week later, I can stay up for hours before I need to lay down and rest a less-sore back. I’ve driven my standard shift truck since Thursday with no ill effects. Last night, we all went for a walk around the block, something I haven’t been able to do for almost a year. This morning, Charlene and I went to the downtown Farmers’ Market for a half hour of sampling and buying things.
I must be doing something right or I have help from ‘above’ as I still exceed all recovery expectations, even mine.
