Surgery Day: Post-op

The first moments awake I had were in that recovery room. In fact, I forgot all about this until just now. I remember talking with people. We were discussing the finer points of OR Scrubs and the fact that I felt good enough to walk. I remember they kept telling me to stop trying to stand up. I also remember Dr. Slagle coming over to me and saying things went very well. That my knee was in very good shape otherwise (we were both surprised given the trauma I had punished it with for almost 12 months).

I cannot see my knee. That have it wrapped in a cool immobilizer. I say it is cool, because there are pockets on the inside for ice packs to slide in. I will learn to like this.

I remember feeling alone and asking for my wife several times. They assured me that she would be called. Then they began moving me upstairs. I drifted in and out as they moved me into my room. I had no roommate as they moved me in (which I was happy about). I asked if my wife knew where I was, and they said yes.

Things seemed very disorganized as they moved me into the room (although I am sure part of that had to do with my head being disorganized). Nurses were in and out, checking my blood pressure, sticking that thing in my ear to check my temperature (although I prefer that to other options).

Now 20 minutes had passed, and still no Andrea. So, I asked about her again, they said they would check.

10 minutes later, I had a roommate, a 100-year-old man, named Mr. Miller.

I felt bad for him. Apparently, he had been healthy and alert before this day. That morning, he had fallen at the nursing home. They had x-rayed him, and found out that he had broken the ball of his hip. Mr. Miller was mentally alert, in pain, and, oh yeah, REALLY hard of hearing.

The nurse came in and told me, as Mr. Miller arrived, that nobody had called Andrea, so she was coming up to the room now. She also taught me how to use the very cool, self-controlled Morphine button. Hit it once, every 10 minutes, and I get a dose. It will not give me more then one dose every 10 minutes. It will beep when you are getting a dose after you push the button. Still VERY cool. With this type of modern convenience, I may never leave this place.

I felt good. In fact, I felt great. No pain, no nothing. They asked if I wanted to eat. Maybe a liquid lunch. “No, I am actually really hungry, bring me real food.” As I said that, my wife, the registered nurse, entered into my room. “Are you sure?” “Absolutely, I feel great! And Hungry.”

Within minutes, I had a ‘mashed potatoes-meat loaf-green beans-meal’ sitting in front of me. What great service! That is when things started going bad. One whiff of the food, and I wanted to barf. Not that the food smelled bad, just that my stomach was getting in touch with my brain and saying, “I don’t think so.”

I pushed the food aside. Maybe it was temporary, but I could not bring my self to eat more then a few bites of melted strawberry ice cream (I figured that was low on the post-barf grossness scale).

Then it started getting really bad. First it was Mr. Miller. Now I have never been in the hospital, but with grandparents, my mother and stories from my wife, I know several things. First, hospital employees are mandated to ask the same questions of patients over and over again. Second, you cannot let a sleeping patient sleep too long, otherwise, you would not be necessary.

So, poor Mr. Miller started having questions asked of him:

Nurse 1: “Mr. Miller, do you know where you are?
Mr. Miller: “Do I have a car?”
Nurse 1: MR. MILLER, YOU ARE IN THE HOSPITAL.
Mr. Miller: What?
Nurse 1: “Mr. Miller, do you know why you are at the hospital?”
Mr. Miller: I think I should go to the hospital too! My hip really hurts!
Nurse 1: (Screaming so he can hear) Mr. Miller, you are in the hospital.
Mr. Miller: I did not know that.
Nurse 1: You broke your hip.
Mr. Miller: Really?
Nurse 1: Ok, I will be back.

30 seconds later…
Nurse 2: Mr. Miller, you have hurt your hip.
Mr. Miller: Eh? What?
Nurse 2: MR. MILLER, YOU ARE AT THE HOSPITAL, YOU BROKE YOUR HIP.
Mr. Miller: Did what?
Nurse 2: (Screaming) YOU BROKE YOUR HIP. DO YOU KNOW HOW?
Mr. Miller: Nope.

Ron hits morphine button. It beeps.

10 minutes later, just as I drift off...
(All nurse conversations from this point on are at maximum volume).
Nurse 1: MR MILLER, I need to check your blood pressure.
Mr. Miller: Eh? What?
Nurse 1: (Even louder then Max volume): I NEED TO CHECK YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE
Mr. Miller: Whatever. Nurse 1: DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY IN THE AREA.
Mr. Miller: I have a son in Palmyra.
Nurse 1: SHOULD WE CALL HIM?
Mr. Miller: Call who?

Ron hits morphine button. It beeps.

10 minutes later…
Doctor 1: Mr. Miller, I am Doctor Feelgood.
Mr. Miller: Who? Ron hits morphine button 3 times, only gets one beep, one dose.
Mr. Miller: Nurse, I gotta’ pee!
Nurse 2: Mr. Miller, you have a catheter in, you don’t have to worry about it .
Mr. Miller: But if I don’t pee soon, I am going to mess the bed.
Nurse 2: Mr. Miller, you have a catheter in your bladder, the pressure you feel is from that.
Mr. Miller: A what?

Ron hits the button, no beep. Ron wants to cry.

This goes on for 4 hours. Every 15 minutes or so, somebody is coming in and yelling questions to Mr. Miller. Fortunately, the nurses understood what I was experiencing. They arrange to move me into another room.

Needless to say, the general anesthesia has worn off. The morphine hardly helped with Mr. Miller, let alone my knee pain. I am tired, grumpy, in pain, and very clingy to my wife. She needs to leave, but I guilt her into staying…”You stayed with my grandmother and mother when THEY were in the hospital…). It usually does not work. I must have been pretty pathetic.

I am alone in my new room for almost one-hour. I finally sleep. Later, I found out Andrea pushed my morphine button every 10 minutes, hoping it would keep me under.

I get a new roommate. He has had an unattended-to abscess tooth. They remove 5 teeth, several parts of jawbone, and part of the tissue in his neck. Yuck.

I have the curtain drawn, but my panic sets in as soon as he arrives. He coughs and hacks for over 45 minutes after his arrival. I want to cry again. I tell my wife we are leaving the hospital.

CONTINUE...