Since having back surgery a week ago things around my house have changed slightly. And I am not really sure if it is for the better or not. I have a new weight restriction of 10 pounds for the next week and a half and then in almost 3 weeks I have to start Physical Therapy which is just another way of saying someone gets paid to torture you for shits and giggles. Le Sigh....
I went to the Neurosurgeon's office on Wednesday and apparently me limping around for the last 5 weeks has caused some concern for Mr. Brilliant Surgeon Man. So they whisked me away to pre-op and with 5 people practically poking me all at the same time to try their darnedest to find a stinkin' vein that worked in my body, I panic attack-edly went off to have my back ripped open Alien Vs. Predator style. I can only imagine what went on in that operating room because I came out with a failed IV attempt at my jugular and an IV in my foot and ten failed attempts in my arms and hands, so Jesus only knows how I survived! I came out sore, bruised and battered with a horrible neck ache but my butt didn't sting, burn or feel lightning-y so I was very happy.
I however, was not happy that I had to pee first thing and I was too weak to make it to the bathroom on my own and had to balance on a bed pan. Word to the wise... you might as well just pee the bed because they are going to have to change the chuck afterwards anyway. Just go ahead and pee away and then say that you couldn't get them fast enough and it was dire straights. They understand and it's completely normal to any Nurse or CNA.
Everything seemed to be going well until my roommate started complaining that the nurse was choking her and trying to get her to sniff poisonous gas. This is where she also told the doctor that the nurse was doing this because of me, "that blond girl in the other bed! She told the nurse to kill me!" " .... Crazy lady, you do know that I can hear you, right? This curtain protects against nothing," I thought to my self. Whenever the nurses would come in to check out my vitals, inevitably they would check hers and every time her Oxygen saturation was low they would put her O2 nasal cannula back on her and all would be well. Until the crazy lady thought it would be a great idea to know what my O2 stats were and started questioning why I wasn't getting poison gas too. Thank God I was discharged by two o'clock!
I got home with the help of the most fantastic husband on the planet. I am currently thinking of things to make a sash and a scepter out of around the house. We may have to have a little parade, even if only in our backyard. Complete with candy and everything, I'll let you know the dates so you can come over and watch his parade wave. Baby Monster came home shortly afterwards and I got to kiss her and that was about it. She gave me this horrified look of, "You see me, why aren't you picking me up and kissing my little feets?! I don't understand why you aren't trying to snorgle my face off?" That little look hurt me to the core! I desperately wanted to pick her up and hug her as hard as I could until she wiggled out of my arms in defence. But I must be good and recover the way I should because 2 years down the road I don't want to ever have to go through that again! So I was obedient to Brilliant Surgeon Man's warning's about lifting heavy objects and ignored the dirty looks from my mobile monster.
The next few hours were kind of a blur including crying, trying to figure out how to pee on my own, and just trying to be comfortable. Take a pill, zonk out for hours at a time, wake up sore, swollen and not being strong enough to push myself up to go pee induced The Cane. The Cane is the gift my wonderful Mother in Law lent to me for my recovery. I look terrible and ridiculous but it works when your feeble arms are desperately trying to lift your puffy body off the bed and are failing miserably. The Cane also works well to put on your underwear and to help pull up your pants, just a little Gimpy FYI. Soon my husband would go to work and leave me by myself while Monster Pants went to Grandma's house. You don't realize how much you value human interactions until your Mobile Monster is gone and the house is so quiet you think that you are loosing your mind.
Here's how it went:
- Wake up, time 8am. Wiggle, grunt, roll, push, grab cane, push up some more while not twisting, cry, tell yourself, "Get up FATTY!", go pee.
- Look at the clock, 8:30am. Sit in the chair. Look at the remote that is too far away to reach without hurting yourself. Stand up, locate cane, shimmy remote to edge of coffee table to grab remote.
- Turn on TV sit down on the couch with 87 pillows for support. What's on, nothing but Wimbledon. "ehhh, I like tennis. I'll give it a shot."
- Time: 8:45am. "man, I am really, really sore from peeing. I have to get up and take a pill, CRAP!"
- Shimmy, wiggle, grunt, groan and I'm up! Grab Mega Ridiculous Narcotic Pill, guzzle 8 ounces of water and hunt for food. Find a banana, choke it down. Go lay down on the couch.
- Time: unknown, possibly 1pm. Listen to newly moved in White Trash neighbor berate his wife for something trivial. Go to window in bedroom to eavesdrop on his Eff Fest. It has to do with someone screwing them over about money, it sounds stupid and menial so I decide to move on. Listen to White Trash neighbor yell at my dog from his kitchen window while I am standing at the door desperately wishing the stupid dog would listen to my weak attempt to get him in the house.
- Time: 2:30pm, TV: Cooking Channel, MRN Pill:1, Me: stoned to my toes
"ahhh crap... I gotta pee again and I should probably eat something, too." Wiggle, shimmy, cry a little bit, "hey this is getting easier I think." Go pee, travel to the kitchen to peruse my choices. Settle on a granola bar. Nag myself for not walking around the house more. Decide to do 4 laps around the house.
- Slowly make my way around the house looking at the cobwebs and dust. Wishing I could move my arms above my head without horrible back pain from my back being ripped apart. Take off sweatshirt because of hot flashes. (I am attributing this to hormones and not to the fact that 4 laps around the house worked up a sweat for me.)
- Time: 3pm, Couch status: occupied, Me: zonked out.
- Time:6pm ?, Me: sweating, drooling and starving. Make my way into the kitchen to score some food. Can't bend down to actually get food, decide on an apple. Go sit down on the couch, accidentally drop apple, dogs snatch it up immediately. Sigh, lay down and wait for help to arrive.
- Time: 7pm, Monster status: home with Sister in Law, LP status: home, Food status: making its way to my belly. Hoarking down food with ferociousness that only Hobos and stray dogs possess.
- Time: Nakey Time, watching Mobile Monster crawl around on the floor, making me even more depressed I can't be down there playing with her. Go sit in chair while bath time progresses into getting ready for bed. Look at the wall. Get up, walk around the house, look at the dirty dishes. Go lay down. Get up, walk around, decide to pee. Walk around, look outside, go outside with cane. Sit down on sturdy looking lawn chair. Sit for 20 minutes, get up walk around, look at the flowers. Look at all the weeds that are currently taking over my garden. Go inside, sit on couch with 87 support pillows.
- Time:10pm, Shower status: currently taking one. Sanity Level: 2. "is that wall about 2 inches closer than it was before? nah.... that's just my imagination" Get spiffy cleaned up and put on clothing, take major narcotics and pass out.
- Time: 10am?, Pain Level:84, Monster Status: Unknown at this point. Cane status: unknown. Wiggle, squirm, cry, get out of bed. "I SWEAR that wall is closer than yesterday.... did the mirror just wink at me? I think I need to pee and eat something." Oh, Sister in Law took baby-ness down to Grandma's house, "hmmm, what to do? Live with Geriatrics and Kelly's on. I should take some medicine and grab something to eat. Hmmm, there's nothing I can reach on the top shelf of the fridge that looks edible or has a negative Hepatitis status. I'll grab a banana." Pass out on the couch for a ridiculous amount of time.
- Time: possibly 2pm, Mental Status: Dire Straights. Go outside with Crackhead Hair, sit in the sun with a book and my cane. Random annoying neighbor comes over to ask what I did to myself. Explain situation and continue to neighbor that I normally would have blown off but for some reason I can't stop talking... "I must be losing it.. this dude is annoying as hell but it seems I have verbal diarrhea!" Feign sunburn and go in to drink a gallon of water. Lay on bed and read an entire 300 page book in an afternoon. Make myself get up, go to the bathroom and actually take a day time shower. Feel better about myself afterwards and decide to brave the out of doors. "Ahhh screw it!! I'm walking down to go see my babykins! This is getting ridiculous lady!" Grab shoes and start walking, finally after about 15 minutes I make it a block down the road and am exhausted. I feel like Rocky when he makes it up onto the steps of the Capital building and want to dance around but decide it's probably not on that sheet of paper they gave to me at the hospital. Walk in the door and see my Cuteness playing on the floor unfazed by the fact that we have barely seen each other all week long and seems to no longer need me. She just crawls and scoots around terrorizing the cat and the dogs and of course her cousins from Texas. Apparently Mickey Mouse Club House is much more interesting than your mother walking through the door to kiss your face off....
I believe TV may have won this round but give me a couple weeks and that kid will be begging to be put down! Just you wait. Imma be buff and stuff and lift her for weights.... Watch out physical therapy the crazy lady's coming to town!
Wish me luck,
-Suzs
I went to the Neurosurgeon's office on Wednesday and apparently me limping around for the last 5 weeks has caused some concern for Mr. Brilliant Surgeon Man. So they whisked me away to pre-op and with 5 people practically poking me all at the same time to try their darnedest to find a stinkin' vein that worked in my body, I panic attack-edly went off to have my back ripped open Alien Vs. Predator style. I can only imagine what went on in that operating room because I came out with a failed IV attempt at my jugular and an IV in my foot and ten failed attempts in my arms and hands, so Jesus only knows how I survived! I came out sore, bruised and battered with a horrible neck ache but my butt didn't sting, burn or feel lightning-y so I was very happy.
I however, was not happy that I had to pee first thing and I was too weak to make it to the bathroom on my own and had to balance on a bed pan. Word to the wise... you might as well just pee the bed because they are going to have to change the chuck afterwards anyway. Just go ahead and pee away and then say that you couldn't get them fast enough and it was dire straights. They understand and it's completely normal to any Nurse or CNA.
Everything seemed to be going well until my roommate started complaining that the nurse was choking her and trying to get her to sniff poisonous gas. This is where she also told the doctor that the nurse was doing this because of me, "that blond girl in the other bed! She told the nurse to kill me!" " .... Crazy lady, you do know that I can hear you, right? This curtain protects against nothing," I thought to my self. Whenever the nurses would come in to check out my vitals, inevitably they would check hers and every time her Oxygen saturation was low they would put her O2 nasal cannula back on her and all would be well. Until the crazy lady thought it would be a great idea to know what my O2 stats were and started questioning why I wasn't getting poison gas too. Thank God I was discharged by two o'clock!
I got home with the help of the most fantastic husband on the planet. I am currently thinking of things to make a sash and a scepter out of around the house. We may have to have a little parade, even if only in our backyard. Complete with candy and everything, I'll let you know the dates so you can come over and watch his parade wave. Baby Monster came home shortly afterwards and I got to kiss her and that was about it. She gave me this horrified look of, "You see me, why aren't you picking me up and kissing my little feets?! I don't understand why you aren't trying to snorgle my face off?" That little look hurt me to the core! I desperately wanted to pick her up and hug her as hard as I could until she wiggled out of my arms in defence. But I must be good and recover the way I should because 2 years down the road I don't want to ever have to go through that again! So I was obedient to Brilliant Surgeon Man's warning's about lifting heavy objects and ignored the dirty looks from my mobile monster.
The next few hours were kind of a blur including crying, trying to figure out how to pee on my own, and just trying to be comfortable. Take a pill, zonk out for hours at a time, wake up sore, swollen and not being strong enough to push myself up to go pee induced The Cane. The Cane is the gift my wonderful Mother in Law lent to me for my recovery. I look terrible and ridiculous but it works when your feeble arms are desperately trying to lift your puffy body off the bed and are failing miserably. The Cane also works well to put on your underwear and to help pull up your pants, just a little Gimpy FYI. Soon my husband would go to work and leave me by myself while Monster Pants went to Grandma's house. You don't realize how much you value human interactions until your Mobile Monster is gone and the house is so quiet you think that you are loosing your mind.
Here's how it went:
- Wake up, time 8am. Wiggle, grunt, roll, push, grab cane, push up some more while not twisting, cry, tell yourself, "Get up FATTY!", go pee.
- Look at the clock, 8:30am. Sit in the chair. Look at the remote that is too far away to reach without hurting yourself. Stand up, locate cane, shimmy remote to edge of coffee table to grab remote.
- Turn on TV sit down on the couch with 87 pillows for support. What's on, nothing but Wimbledon. "ehhh, I like tennis. I'll give it a shot."
- Time: 8:45am. "man, I am really, really sore from peeing. I have to get up and take a pill, CRAP!"
- Shimmy, wiggle, grunt, groan and I'm up! Grab Mega Ridiculous Narcotic Pill, guzzle 8 ounces of water and hunt for food. Find a banana, choke it down. Go lay down on the couch.
- Time: unknown, possibly 1pm. Listen to newly moved in White Trash neighbor berate his wife for something trivial. Go to window in bedroom to eavesdrop on his Eff Fest. It has to do with someone screwing them over about money, it sounds stupid and menial so I decide to move on. Listen to White Trash neighbor yell at my dog from his kitchen window while I am standing at the door desperately wishing the stupid dog would listen to my weak attempt to get him in the house.
- Time: 2:30pm, TV: Cooking Channel, MRN Pill:1, Me: stoned to my toes
"ahhh crap... I gotta pee again and I should probably eat something, too." Wiggle, shimmy, cry a little bit, "hey this is getting easier I think." Go pee, travel to the kitchen to peruse my choices. Settle on a granola bar. Nag myself for not walking around the house more. Decide to do 4 laps around the house.
- Slowly make my way around the house looking at the cobwebs and dust. Wishing I could move my arms above my head without horrible back pain from my back being ripped apart. Take off sweatshirt because of hot flashes. (I am attributing this to hormones and not to the fact that 4 laps around the house worked up a sweat for me.)
- Time: 3pm, Couch status: occupied, Me: zonked out.
- Time:6pm ?, Me: sweating, drooling and starving. Make my way into the kitchen to score some food. Can't bend down to actually get food, decide on an apple. Go sit down on the couch, accidentally drop apple, dogs snatch it up immediately. Sigh, lay down and wait for help to arrive.
- Time: 7pm, Monster status: home with Sister in Law, LP status: home, Food status: making its way to my belly. Hoarking down food with ferociousness that only Hobos and stray dogs possess.
- Time: Nakey Time, watching Mobile Monster crawl around on the floor, making me even more depressed I can't be down there playing with her. Go sit in chair while bath time progresses into getting ready for bed. Look at the wall. Get up, walk around the house, look at the dirty dishes. Go lay down. Get up, walk around, decide to pee. Walk around, look outside, go outside with cane. Sit down on sturdy looking lawn chair. Sit for 20 minutes, get up walk around, look at the flowers. Look at all the weeds that are currently taking over my garden. Go inside, sit on couch with 87 support pillows.
- Time:10pm, Shower status: currently taking one. Sanity Level: 2. "is that wall about 2 inches closer than it was before? nah.... that's just my imagination" Get spiffy cleaned up and put on clothing, take major narcotics and pass out.
- Time: 10am?, Pain Level:84, Monster Status: Unknown at this point. Cane status: unknown. Wiggle, squirm, cry, get out of bed. "I SWEAR that wall is closer than yesterday.... did the mirror just wink at me? I think I need to pee and eat something." Oh, Sister in Law took baby-ness down to Grandma's house, "hmmm, what to do? Live with Geriatrics and Kelly's on. I should take some medicine and grab something to eat. Hmmm, there's nothing I can reach on the top shelf of the fridge that looks edible or has a negative Hepatitis status. I'll grab a banana." Pass out on the couch for a ridiculous amount of time.
- Time: possibly 2pm, Mental Status: Dire Straights. Go outside with Crackhead Hair, sit in the sun with a book and my cane. Random annoying neighbor comes over to ask what I did to myself. Explain situation and continue to neighbor that I normally would have blown off but for some reason I can't stop talking... "I must be losing it.. this dude is annoying as hell but it seems I have verbal diarrhea!" Feign sunburn and go in to drink a gallon of water. Lay on bed and read an entire 300 page book in an afternoon. Make myself get up, go to the bathroom and actually take a day time shower. Feel better about myself afterwards and decide to brave the out of doors. "Ahhh screw it!! I'm walking down to go see my babykins! This is getting ridiculous lady!" Grab shoes and start walking, finally after about 15 minutes I make it a block down the road and am exhausted. I feel like Rocky when he makes it up onto the steps of the Capital building and want to dance around but decide it's probably not on that sheet of paper they gave to me at the hospital. Walk in the door and see my Cuteness playing on the floor unfazed by the fact that we have barely seen each other all week long and seems to no longer need me. She just crawls and scoots around terrorizing the cat and the dogs and of course her cousins from Texas. Apparently Mickey Mouse Club House is much more interesting than your mother walking through the door to kiss your face off....
I believe TV may have won this round but give me a couple weeks and that kid will be begging to be put down! Just you wait. Imma be buff and stuff and lift her for weights.... Watch out physical therapy the crazy lady's coming to town!
Wish me luck,
-Suzs
No comments:
Post a Comment