Published: May 14, 2008 02:16 pm            

Surgery over, recovery begins

Last week, things suddenly things went in high gear and started moving.

Since he had a cancellation in his schedule, my surgeon decided he could work me in. I was more than ready and thankful for it, especially since I had no idea how I would feel afterwards. If I had known that, I might not have been that eager.

One of my sons took me to the hospital. I had asked for the map of where we should go so we would not have any trouble finding it. This was a good plan, and I know now that it was sent, but my computer was suddenly out of commission and I only got it after I was home again after the surgery.

That did not seem a problem, since my son looked on his computer and copied the directions. However, when we arrived it certainly did not look like a hospital, yet it had the sign of St. Vincent on the wall. He went inside and got directions to get to the hospital, which, thank goodness, was not very far away. We were still in time, only to find out that they changed the time and the surgery was two hours later than planned, so we still had plenty of waiting time ahead of us.

Then it was announced that it would be later still, since the surgery before mine lasted a little longer than the doctor expected.

In fact, I did not get into my room till 6 p.m., while originally we had hoped for around noontime and my son could go back to work and would take only a half day off.

That first night I did not sleep at all. Strange bed, strange noises and I was tangled in a web of wires and cords in hand, arm, nose, bladder and legs, so that I hardly dared to move. Yet I was not in pain.

That came toward morning. And boy, did it come.

The evening before surgery I did not eat at all, so towards morning I could have used something. However the breakfast tray was put down out off reach. There was no way could I get myself in a sitting position and pull my breakfast towards me. It was recommended to sit at the side of my bed, but there was no way I could.

The tray was moved closer. But the bed was not sitting up and when I started to drink, most of it landed in bed and on me. There was not much on it anyway and I wondered if the price of groceries had really gone up so high that they limited the meals. Lunch did not look any better but, by that time, I was sitting up in a chair. Thank goodness the RN entered the room, looked at the tray and said I could and should have something more sustaining. It was a very good exchange, for steak with gravy and mushrooms, potatoes and peas, with a bowl of soup and pears for desert. Much better than only liquids.

My blood sugar had also jumped up during the night and in total I had three shots of insulin, which for years I had not taken.

I was at first told I would have to stay in the hospital for three days. I was so miserable that day that I was glad I was not at home by myself. Then the doctor came in and announced I could go home. I was not particularly thrilled with that idea, and neither were the kids, since I could not do anything by myself. I was told I would have to have somebody with me at all times. That would be an other problem, since they all work for a living.

Yet I did not want to look like a wimp, so I agreed to go home.

I was outfitted with a walker to be used all the time.

My children have been wonderful these days, helping whenever they can. Going in and out of bed is still an almost-impossible task and I need assistance at feet and head, so they are in a straight line.

When you are told not to bend over, not to reach for anything, and not to twist, you have lost your freedom. The kids are hard taskmasters and remind me to walk standing straight and are disgusted when I overstep the boundaries. But it’s thanks to their supervision that I am on the mend.

The aftermath is much worse than I thought was possible. The pain is excruciating at times. Yet I have to learn how to walk again — not an easy task. But I can walk, be it was some help. When I am on my feet again I can do it myself.

The nights are worse than the days, since getting in and out of the bed is so difficult and nature calls me often out of bed to go to the bathroom.

The wonderful thing about being so helpless is that when you are back in normal circulation and are able to help yourself again, it is a blessing which one usually takes for granted.

Sometimes we must be brought low so we will live more intensely, so we will shift our priorities, and we will appreciate that we are richly blessed and will enjoy life more.

        

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