I've been rather quiet, living in a world that doesn't have any sort of regular rhythm to it. The pain and the painkillers have dramatically decreased my attention span, my ability to think clearly, and my ability to sleep normally - I fall asleep randomly, but never sleep for more than an hour or two, even at night. When I do have a rare night of sleeping mostly through the entire night, I wake up feeling like a new person. It's amazing how much sleep can affect a body (and mind).
I got a bit nervous about being under general anesthesia during my surgery. I don't fear anesthesia. I was really worried that I would be deeply under and that I would see my dead stepson while I was under. I didn't tell anyone but El Esposo about this, because it just seemed crazy. I told El Esposo in the car on the way to the hospital and he told me not to go with his son if I did see him while I was under, because he needed me to live and he didn't want to be a widower. That injected a whole new level of worry - what would happen to El Esposo and the kids? All this worrying was for naught, as it turns out, I had no dreams (that I can recall) while I was under. And I did wake up after surgery. And they had done the surgery on the correct leg. All good!
My surgery was supposed to be outpatient surgery, but I was having a great deal of pain, so I ended up staying overnight. I remember the nurse in the recovery room giving me multiple shots of morphine, which didn't help. She also took the pulse-ox off my finger and put in on one of my toes because I kept clenching my fists from the pain. That was really weird - I would try to keep my hands flat on the bed, but they would curl up tightly. My other vivid memory from the recovery room was that the nurse put my sock back on after she put the pulse-ox on my foot, and I remember thinking that it was brilliant how she did that.
I've not stayed overnight in a hospital for over twelve years. In fact, I've only stayed overnight in a hospital the two times that I gave birth. (And I suppose I stayed overnight when my mom gave birth to me, but I don't remember that.) Things have changed during those twelve years. Meals are served like room service - you call and tell them want you want off the menu, and someone brings a tray up with exactly what you have ordered. The food was decent, too. And the lovely gentleman who brought me breakfast and lunch acted as though he were serving me haute cuisine at a fancy restaurant.
One thing that has not changed in hospitals is the need to wake the patients every hour or two, to make sure we haven't died in our sleep. They say they need to take our vitals, but I don't believe that for a second. On the plus side, the constant influx of nursing staff in my room provided me with ample opportunity to get more pain meds. I cannot believe how much pain medication they were giving me, and how much pain I was still feeling even with all the painkillers onboard.
I've been home from the hospital for a week now, and I brought home with me three things that are still near and dear to my heart. First, my opioids. I honestly don't know how I would get through this without them. I weaned myself down to three a day, but yesterday I left the house for a doctor's visit and a new cast, and though that was all wonderful, all the activity had me in a lot of pain for the rest of the day. The doctor thinks I'm on track with my painkiller usage, though, so that's good. Second, my beanie. If we are friends on Facebook, you've seen the lovely beanie. Instead of putting one of those paper shower cap things on your head during surgery, the hospital give you a beanie with the hospital logo embroidered on it. It's acrylic and it's certainly not hand knit, but I love it. I'm still wearing it almost daily. Even better, it's provided through a local business that started off doing promotional items for local minor league sports teams about 20 years ago, and which has grown. In fact, we drive by this place on the way to the hospital. It makes me happy that this beanie is something useful, reusable, and provided through a locally owned business. Finally, I'm in love with my hospital socks. You know, the unattractive tan acrylic things with no heels and lots of nonskid markings on them? I got two pairs at the hospital and I brought them both home, and I usually have one on my good foot. I can't keep a sock on the leg with the cast. They come off, or the dog pulls them off so he can lick my foot.
My lovely sock, in all its glory! Have you ever inexplicably found joy somewhere you never expected?