![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouse For those of you who want the tl:dr synopsis/spoilers: Everything went swimmingly. The surgery was a success and Shawn's pre-surgery PT has proven to have been well worth every minute of it.
And now for the whole story, start to present....
As you may remember, we were scheduled for a 1:15 pm surgery on Monday. The surgeon's office called us around 10 am. Now, I should tell you that we were cancelled last time very last minute (due to the IV shortage) so both of our hearts were in our throats when we saw who was calling. I overheard "cancellation" and thought, "OH FFS!" but it turned out that the cancellation was the person scheduled before Shawn and so we were asked if we could come in sooner. Shawn replied with an enthusiastic, "How soon do you want us!?"
I threw some things into a bag for my own entertainment during the 2-hour wait for surgery. We flew down the highway (we live quite close, actually,) got there, and got checked-in. Shawn was in surgery prep in a hot second. And I thought: EXCELLENT. She'll be the surgeon's first surgery of the day and we will be in and out and settled in a room for the night ASAP. Fantasic!
Once I got my cell phone working (there was some weird issue where I wasn't getting hospital texts until I turned the phone off and then on again--my phone is kind of just getting old, honestly,) I settled in.... unaware that the surgical lounge would be my home FOR THE NEXT TEN HOURS.
That's right. We didn't get a room until almost 8 pm.
If you are worried about Shawn, go back and read the opening. She's fine. The surgery lasted only exactly as long as expected. I was feeling pretty chipper, in fact, when the surgeon came out with the schpiel I'm getting used to hearing after any surgery of Shawn's. It always starts with a concerned look and, "She must have been in a lot of pain." To which I have to shrug and say, "She really did not say that she was, why?" Then I hear about career defining levels of deterioration, "never in my fifteen years of practice..." (that was the gallbadder) and this time "The MRI image really did not do the damage justice, I was quite surprised by just how bad..." But, I nod and try to explain that Shawn routinely "works through" the type of migraines that are called "suicide migraines." I think they all think that I'm an insensitive spouse and probably missed huge levels of my wife's suffering, but belive me I am always the one saying, "I do not think these migraines are managed. Are you sure you want to go to work (not try something new, etc., etc.)?"
But, so I was like, okay, I will have something to tell Shawn because she's been very worried that she didn't really need this surgery and/or that it might have been wiser to wait. I'm kind of sitting on this, anxiously, too, because she was very insistant that I have ammunition for when the nerve blockers wear off and she regrets this surgery. But, I'm thinking, "An hour or more and I'll get to tell her all about it and see how she's doing."
Then I waited and waited and waited and waited.... and WAITED... for five more hours.
The problem, it turns out, is that United is apparently at what one of our nurses called "over capacity." I don't know why. But, what we waited five hours for, was a bed. I may not have noted, but Shawn was scheduled to stay overnight (rather than do day surgery) in part because she generally has a lot going on, health-wise.The full ten hours of waiting, for me, was made worse by the fact that I was not alllowed to see Shawn while she was in the recovery "room." Again, only MUCH LATER did I learn that the reason for that was because it wasn't really a room, per se. It was just a partitioned section of a nurse's ward, with a bunch of post-op people side by side in their surgical beds with little but a curtain between them. So, there wasn't any room for me... or really anyone. Again, why? I don't know.
But I was, at several points, ready to murder someone, anyone to get answers.
Keep in mind that this entire time, I had Shawn's cell phone. If she wanted to reassure me that she was alive and well, she had to borrow a nurse's personal phone. I mean, thank god the surgeon came and chatted with me early and told me how things had gone (swimmingly!) or I would have been FRANTIC.
I knew she was okay. I sumrised that there was just some hold-up to release her from recovery... and weirdly, that made things worse. Like, I just wanted to SEE her, you know? I just wanted some reassurance that she really was all alright. I eventually found a fellow extrovert whose wife had also disappeared into the long recovery hole, so we were able to compare notes and soothe each other by... (and I know introverts will cringe but) by literally talking about EVERYTHING to each other for hours. I know more about Lenard (not spelled with an 'o,' his mother swore that this was the Irish spelling of Leonard) than I do some of my closest friends. I can tell you what his grandfather did during the Great Dust Bowl (did a full-on Grapes of Wrath--had to sell the farm for pennies on the acre, moved from Arkansas to Califonia, and picked cherries all up and down the state.)
At any rate, just when I was starting to lose my absolute MIND,naomikritzer offered to fetch food for me. Why not go to the cafe, you ask? When I made my way down there it was closed. I was able to snag a granola bar from one section that remained open, but I was starting to get dangerously hangry. Apparently, the process of setting Naomi in motion--first to my house check on the kitties and to collect some things (I had not planned on 10 HOURS so all my batteries were dead or dying on various electronic devices) and then towards the hospital with emergency rations--clicked something in the universe and a bed FINALLY opened up.
At least the room we got was LUX--very fancy, very huge. I could have, had I not burned up all my ability to stay at the hospital a moment longer, slept beside her all night in a full-sized pull-out bed. It was actually comfortable-sized, not the usual cots. I would have stayed, though, had she not been feeling as good as she was. But the surgery really did go very well. Obviously, she'd had plenty of time to "recover" (and the nerve blocker still masked most of the pain) and so thus, with her blessing, I went home and crashed.
The kitties were very confused, but I gratefully sank into bed and slept until a text from Shawn around 6 am woke me up. Don't feel too badly. 6 am is about my usual waking time, so I got dressed, bought myself a fancy coffee with all the espresso, and headed over this morning.
Shawn has been doing astoundingly.
She is the sort of person who generally keeps up with physical therapy. Unlike me, she is able to keep going during the mantainence phase. Normally--like I think a lot of people tend to be--I'm great while whatever it is that's bothering me still hurts. Once it feels better, I tend to stop, even when the physical therapist is like, "You should reall keep doing this to stay limber" or whatever. Shawn, on the other hand, will just keep doing her excercises. Thus, she started strengthening her knees and arms with the things they'd suggested (and ones offered by one of our friend's personal trainer) 5 months ago and just never stopped, even when the first surgery was cancelled. The PT today? COULD NOT BELIEVE how well Shawn was doing. Shawn had well above the range of motion they were expecting and was able to lift and hold her leg at levels not expected for weeks yet.
The physical therapist did warn us that once we're home and that nerve block wears off and the swelling and bruising sets in, things might actually feel like they're going in reverse, but not to lose heart. Just keep doing what you can. Try not to ovedo it either. I suspect with Shawn that second one is actually going to be the most critical.
I was glad we got discharged as quickly as we did, however. The nerve blockers just now wore off, but they were still mostly functional as we tackeled the long set of outside stairs to get into the house. She's home and napping right now, but she stayed up long enough to get the next set of pills and to eat lunch. She's been doing really, really, really well. The next couple of days will be tricky, but I believe in her orangizational skills. This is where my little list maker shines. She will have us on a tight schedule and she will get all her exercises in... and that's going to make a big difference to recovery I think. I suspect my job is going to be to insist that she rest!
And now for the whole story, start to present....
As you may remember, we were scheduled for a 1:15 pm surgery on Monday. The surgeon's office called us around 10 am. Now, I should tell you that we were cancelled last time very last minute (due to the IV shortage) so both of our hearts were in our throats when we saw who was calling. I overheard "cancellation" and thought, "OH FFS!" but it turned out that the cancellation was the person scheduled before Shawn and so we were asked if we could come in sooner. Shawn replied with an enthusiastic, "How soon do you want us!?"
I threw some things into a bag for my own entertainment during the 2-hour wait for surgery. We flew down the highway (we live quite close, actually,) got there, and got checked-in. Shawn was in surgery prep in a hot second. And I thought: EXCELLENT. She'll be the surgeon's first surgery of the day and we will be in and out and settled in a room for the night ASAP. Fantasic!
Once I got my cell phone working (there was some weird issue where I wasn't getting hospital texts until I turned the phone off and then on again--my phone is kind of just getting old, honestly,) I settled in.... unaware that the surgical lounge would be my home FOR THE NEXT TEN HOURS.
That's right. We didn't get a room until almost 8 pm.
If you are worried about Shawn, go back and read the opening. She's fine. The surgery lasted only exactly as long as expected. I was feeling pretty chipper, in fact, when the surgeon came out with the schpiel I'm getting used to hearing after any surgery of Shawn's. It always starts with a concerned look and, "She must have been in a lot of pain." To which I have to shrug and say, "She really did not say that she was, why?" Then I hear about career defining levels of deterioration, "never in my fifteen years of practice..." (that was the gallbadder) and this time "The MRI image really did not do the damage justice, I was quite surprised by just how bad..." But, I nod and try to explain that Shawn routinely "works through" the type of migraines that are called "suicide migraines." I think they all think that I'm an insensitive spouse and probably missed huge levels of my wife's suffering, but belive me I am always the one saying, "I do not think these migraines are managed. Are you sure you want to go to work (not try something new, etc., etc.)?"
But, so I was like, okay, I will have something to tell Shawn because she's been very worried that she didn't really need this surgery and/or that it might have been wiser to wait. I'm kind of sitting on this, anxiously, too, because she was very insistant that I have ammunition for when the nerve blockers wear off and she regrets this surgery. But, I'm thinking, "An hour or more and I'll get to tell her all about it and see how she's doing."
Then I waited and waited and waited and waited.... and WAITED... for five more hours.
The problem, it turns out, is that United is apparently at what one of our nurses called "over capacity." I don't know why. But, what we waited five hours for, was a bed. I may not have noted, but Shawn was scheduled to stay overnight (rather than do day surgery) in part because she generally has a lot going on, health-wise.The full ten hours of waiting, for me, was made worse by the fact that I was not alllowed to see Shawn while she was in the recovery "room." Again, only MUCH LATER did I learn that the reason for that was because it wasn't really a room, per se. It was just a partitioned section of a nurse's ward, with a bunch of post-op people side by side in their surgical beds with little but a curtain between them. So, there wasn't any room for me... or really anyone. Again, why? I don't know.
But I was, at several points, ready to murder someone, anyone to get answers.
Keep in mind that this entire time, I had Shawn's cell phone. If she wanted to reassure me that she was alive and well, she had to borrow a nurse's personal phone. I mean, thank god the surgeon came and chatted with me early and told me how things had gone (swimmingly!) or I would have been FRANTIC.
I knew she was okay. I sumrised that there was just some hold-up to release her from recovery... and weirdly, that made things worse. Like, I just wanted to SEE her, you know? I just wanted some reassurance that she really was all alright. I eventually found a fellow extrovert whose wife had also disappeared into the long recovery hole, so we were able to compare notes and soothe each other by... (and I know introverts will cringe but) by literally talking about EVERYTHING to each other for hours. I know more about Lenard (not spelled with an 'o,' his mother swore that this was the Irish spelling of Leonard) than I do some of my closest friends. I can tell you what his grandfather did during the Great Dust Bowl (did a full-on Grapes of Wrath--had to sell the farm for pennies on the acre, moved from Arkansas to Califonia, and picked cherries all up and down the state.)
At any rate, just when I was starting to lose my absolute MIND,
naomikritzer offered to fetch food for me. Why not go to the cafe, you ask? When I made my way down there it was closed. I was able to snag a granola bar from one section that remained open, but I was starting to get dangerously hangry. Apparently, the process of setting Naomi in motion--first to my house check on the kitties and to collect some things (I had not planned on 10 HOURS so all my batteries were dead or dying on various electronic devices) and then towards the hospital with emergency rations--clicked something in the universe and a bed FINALLY opened up.At least the room we got was LUX--very fancy, very huge. I could have, had I not burned up all my ability to stay at the hospital a moment longer, slept beside her all night in a full-sized pull-out bed. It was actually comfortable-sized, not the usual cots. I would have stayed, though, had she not been feeling as good as she was. But the surgery really did go very well. Obviously, she'd had plenty of time to "recover" (and the nerve blocker still masked most of the pain) and so thus, with her blessing, I went home and crashed.
The kitties were very confused, but I gratefully sank into bed and slept until a text from Shawn around 6 am woke me up. Don't feel too badly. 6 am is about my usual waking time, so I got dressed, bought myself a fancy coffee with all the espresso, and headed over this morning.
Shawn has been doing astoundingly.
She is the sort of person who generally keeps up with physical therapy. Unlike me, she is able to keep going during the mantainence phase. Normally--like I think a lot of people tend to be--I'm great while whatever it is that's bothering me still hurts. Once it feels better, I tend to stop, even when the physical therapist is like, "You should reall keep doing this to stay limber" or whatever. Shawn, on the other hand, will just keep doing her excercises. Thus, she started strengthening her knees and arms with the things they'd suggested (and ones offered by one of our friend's personal trainer) 5 months ago and just never stopped, even when the first surgery was cancelled. The PT today? COULD NOT BELIEVE how well Shawn was doing. Shawn had well above the range of motion they were expecting and was able to lift and hold her leg at levels not expected for weeks yet.
The physical therapist did warn us that once we're home and that nerve block wears off and the swelling and bruising sets in, things might actually feel like they're going in reverse, but not to lose heart. Just keep doing what you can. Try not to ovedo it either. I suspect with Shawn that second one is actually going to be the most critical.
I was glad we got discharged as quickly as we did, however. The nerve blockers just now wore off, but they were still mostly functional as we tackeled the long set of outside stairs to get into the house. She's home and napping right now, but she stayed up long enough to get the next set of pills and to eat lunch. She's been doing really, really, really well. The next couple of days will be tricky, but I believe in her orangizational skills. This is where my little list maker shines. She will have us on a tight schedule and she will get all her exercises in... and that's going to make a big difference to recovery I think. I suspect my job is going to be to insist that she rest!
no subject
Date: 2024-11-27 04:24 am (UTC)