Little Steps
Step one of “The Next Step” seems to be over. Hopefully it’s the worst of it.
And what a “next step” it was. Jesus.
I worked last night - figured I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, so what the hell.... went in for a few hours, came home, woke Dave up and proceeded to have one of the longest (best hottest and best) baths EVAR (kind of like EVER but with more spunk). Figured that since last time I was planning on bathing after running the dog and was therefore unclean, unshaven, sweaty, covered in dirt after my fall and then more after sweating in the uncomfortable hospital bed all night and day, I’d give him the opposite of our prior meetings.
That, and it helped relax ME. Who doesn’t love a bit of primping and pampering?
And then of course I step out of the bathroom and am greeted by the super wakening, desirable aroma of none other but ... coffee...
Boy, did he get sworn at. Out of anything horrid he could have done to me, making coffee was the worst. And to top it off, after I mentioned that the oysters he opened smelled good, he offered me some. It was only after I called him a bitch that I realized he had forgotten that I was NPO and he wasn’t just being a jerk for the sake of it. HA! Oops. He deserved it.
Even so, however, I could feel the effects of lack of food, considering that I wasn’t NPO overnight and only skipping my breakfast, but that I was skipping my lunch and supper instead. Crankiness started to seep in, so on the trek through the snowy wilderness to Red Deer we enjoyed each other’s company by chatting about truckers and listening to good tunes, and the occasional interruption of my stomach protesting against its very own abuse.
I was worried about the treatment I was about to receive, since the last time wasn’t so great. Ok, I take that back. It was terrible. There was a male night nurse that was phenomenal, but the rest of the stay left me a bitter, bitter patient. I know I have limited patience to begin with, but even now I think back on it with distaste.
Different unit, different attitude.
Everyone was relaxed, and asked multiple questions and ensure my questions were answered. There was never any rush or feeling of annoyance from any of the staff, they were friendly and chatty and overall comforting.
The first time waking up from a general anaesthetic was terrifying - the tube was still in my throat and I couldn’t breathe. Thinking on it, I’m not sure I have ever been so scared in my life. I guess that means death by drowning or asphyxia is definitely not my preferred way to die.... what a happy thought, hey?? But the sheer panic involved was something I’ve never experienced in that manner before.
Anyways, I woke up this time with the same kind of feeling, except someone was stroking my head and I could hear a few people talking to me. Telling me it was alright and that I needed to cough. They kept me calm enough to listen to them and they helped me recover from apparently what happens when your throat is too dry when the tube comes out. Phlegm builds up and goes into the lungs. It took awhile, but I was able to breathe better every time I coughed, and every time I could breathe better I became more alert. The nurses were amazing - they talked to me, explained why that had happened, what I need to do to make it feel better, and WHY I had to do it (if I don’t keep on top of it and continue coughing out the phlegm, I could end up contracting pneumonia). She wiped my tears when they came (of course I was crying - I couldn’t breath! LOL) and told me it would feel so much better in a few minutes. And she was right. Out of all of the time I’ve spent at hospitals and clinics over the last few years, this was the best experience I’ve had yet, despite the discomfort. I cannot explain how grateful I felt to these people who actually seemed to care for a person as opposed to just another patient. There was someone around me at all times to make sure everything was going well, and very carefully explained the importance of chocolate ice cream to help my throat feel better later on.
That sealed the deal. You can’t possibly resent someone that prescribes ice cream the way this wonderful woman did.
After I was back in day surgery for a little while, I realized how badly I needed to pee - IV fluids will do that to a person. The nurse wanted to bring me a bed pan, but I explained the problems I had previously when I was admitted when I broke my knee and she understood completely - apparently she had similar problems when she had surgery, and had the same kind of care I did. Or lack thereof. So she found a way to accommodate me and send me on my way to the porcelain throne. It was a slow trickle, thanks to the anaesthetic, and I swear it took 10 minutes to finally rid myself of what seemed like the entire Saskatchewan River.... I know I always wanted to be a pirate, but that’s not exactly the kind of booty I wanted.
After snoozing off and on, Dr. Pearce came by earlier than expected and sent me home. Apparently they fixed some fraying in the cartilage, but there wasn’t much wrong that could be fixed (such as the holes in the meniscus). No crutches! Yahoooo! I can full weight bear, as long as I take it easy and watch the swelling. He answered our questions, gave us our after care and sent me on my way. Despite my previous discontent with the hospital, doctor and nurses, this experience has left me feeling very positive overall.
Sore and painful, sure. But we’ve noticed several things. Part of the pain is the front of my shin - this is probably because the muscles are used to having that metal in there and suddenly it’s gone, with the support it likely offered. BUT.... the range of motion in my left foot now equals that in my right. It used to be less. Little things such as this, but at this point the actual differences will have to be noted once the tensor and the bandages come off.
Did it work? Will the pain be less?
Time will tell.... here’s hoping.
And what a “next step” it was. Jesus.
I worked last night - figured I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, so what the hell.... went in for a few hours, came home, woke Dave up and proceeded to have one of the longest (best hottest and best) baths EVAR (kind of like EVER but with more spunk). Figured that since last time I was planning on bathing after running the dog and was therefore unclean, unshaven, sweaty, covered in dirt after my fall and then more after sweating in the uncomfortable hospital bed all night and day, I’d give him the opposite of our prior meetings.
That, and it helped relax ME. Who doesn’t love a bit of primping and pampering?
And then of course I step out of the bathroom and am greeted by the super wakening, desirable aroma of none other but ... coffee...
Boy, did he get sworn at. Out of anything horrid he could have done to me, making coffee was the worst. And to top it off, after I mentioned that the oysters he opened smelled good, he offered me some. It was only after I called him a bitch that I realized he had forgotten that I was NPO and he wasn’t just being a jerk for the sake of it. HA! Oops. He deserved it.
Even so, however, I could feel the effects of lack of food, considering that I wasn’t NPO overnight and only skipping my breakfast, but that I was skipping my lunch and supper instead. Crankiness started to seep in, so on the trek through the snowy wilderness to Red Deer we enjoyed each other’s company by chatting about truckers and listening to good tunes, and the occasional interruption of my stomach protesting against its very own abuse.
I was worried about the treatment I was about to receive, since the last time wasn’t so great. Ok, I take that back. It was terrible. There was a male night nurse that was phenomenal, but the rest of the stay left me a bitter, bitter patient. I know I have limited patience to begin with, but even now I think back on it with distaste.
Different unit, different attitude.
Everyone was relaxed, and asked multiple questions and ensure my questions were answered. There was never any rush or feeling of annoyance from any of the staff, they were friendly and chatty and overall comforting.
The first time waking up from a general anaesthetic was terrifying - the tube was still in my throat and I couldn’t breathe. Thinking on it, I’m not sure I have ever been so scared in my life. I guess that means death by drowning or asphyxia is definitely not my preferred way to die.... what a happy thought, hey?? But the sheer panic involved was something I’ve never experienced in that manner before.
Anyways, I woke up this time with the same kind of feeling, except someone was stroking my head and I could hear a few people talking to me. Telling me it was alright and that I needed to cough. They kept me calm enough to listen to them and they helped me recover from apparently what happens when your throat is too dry when the tube comes out. Phlegm builds up and goes into the lungs. It took awhile, but I was able to breathe better every time I coughed, and every time I could breathe better I became more alert. The nurses were amazing - they talked to me, explained why that had happened, what I need to do to make it feel better, and WHY I had to do it (if I don’t keep on top of it and continue coughing out the phlegm, I could end up contracting pneumonia). She wiped my tears when they came (of course I was crying - I couldn’t breath! LOL) and told me it would feel so much better in a few minutes. And she was right. Out of all of the time I’ve spent at hospitals and clinics over the last few years, this was the best experience I’ve had yet, despite the discomfort. I cannot explain how grateful I felt to these people who actually seemed to care for a person as opposed to just another patient. There was someone around me at all times to make sure everything was going well, and very carefully explained the importance of chocolate ice cream to help my throat feel better later on.
That sealed the deal. You can’t possibly resent someone that prescribes ice cream the way this wonderful woman did.
After I was back in day surgery for a little while, I realized how badly I needed to pee - IV fluids will do that to a person. The nurse wanted to bring me a bed pan, but I explained the problems I had previously when I was admitted when I broke my knee and she understood completely - apparently she had similar problems when she had surgery, and had the same kind of care I did. Or lack thereof. So she found a way to accommodate me and send me on my way to the porcelain throne. It was a slow trickle, thanks to the anaesthetic, and I swear it took 10 minutes to finally rid myself of what seemed like the entire Saskatchewan River.... I know I always wanted to be a pirate, but that’s not exactly the kind of booty I wanted.
After snoozing off and on, Dr. Pearce came by earlier than expected and sent me home. Apparently they fixed some fraying in the cartilage, but there wasn’t much wrong that could be fixed (such as the holes in the meniscus). No crutches! Yahoooo! I can full weight bear, as long as I take it easy and watch the swelling. He answered our questions, gave us our after care and sent me on my way. Despite my previous discontent with the hospital, doctor and nurses, this experience has left me feeling very positive overall.
Sore and painful, sure. But we’ve noticed several things. Part of the pain is the front of my shin - this is probably because the muscles are used to having that metal in there and suddenly it’s gone, with the support it likely offered. BUT.... the range of motion in my left foot now equals that in my right. It used to be less. Little things such as this, but at this point the actual differences will have to be noted once the tensor and the bandages come off.
Did it work? Will the pain be less?
Time will tell.... here’s hoping.