The Trip to the Hip

October 19th….Recovery? Is that what you call it…

«blink,blink» dim lights, ceiling…………..«blink,blink» nurse next to bed typing………………….«blink,blink»someone’s talking to me, I think……………….«blink,blink»”How are you doing?” fine…………………«blink,blink»how long was I in surgery? “Two and a half hours”

I’m so groggy and still feeling dreamlike, dizzy.  I can’t keep my eyes open. Two people in surgical attire (minus the masks) come and begin to push my bed.  I’m assuming to get me to my room.  Florescent lights buzz by overhead in a smeared stream of light. The aide at the end of the bed smiles at me (I think).  He looks like a maniacal Jim Carey and he’s pushing that damn bed at what feels like light speed. Taking turns like an idiot teenage driver trying to emulate the Fast and the Furious. Bump! Into the elevator. 4th floor. Doors open and Evil Knievel is at it again. We get into the room and at this point I’m so dizzy and nauseated that I know I’m going to vomit.  They help me into the bed and then hand me a pink plastic box over which I retch and retch, but thankfully, being that you aren’t to eat or drink before surgery, nothing came up, except the feeling of bile not quite making it to my mouth.  “Are  you all right?” Jim Carey inquired? I probably would have been I thought, handing him back the empty box, if you hadn’t taken gurney driving lessons at the Ontario Motor Speedway.  I lay back and rest. I close my eyes because the room is spinning. I think I fell alseep again.

My dad was there by my bedside putting my little bags on a table behind the bed.  He inquired with the customary question, “How are you feeling?” Sometimes I think, isn’t it obvious…. like crap. But I didn’t say that, I smiled instead, because talking was way too complicated a movement at this point.  He moved around the bed, careful to step over the foley catheter that was conveniently collecting my urine and around the IV tower that had several bags of clear liquid dripping their contents into my vein. The nurse entered with a machine which she placed at the foot of the bed.  She strapped a velcro booty around each foot and turned it on.  The booties filled with air alternatingly, right, pshhhhhh, silence, left, pshhhhhhh in a neat little rythmn, pumping against the soles of my feet.  It’s to keep the blood moving in your legs and help prevent blood clots (which can break off and get into your lungs or brain and KILL  you) she smiled.

Dad sat with me and watched some TV.  I was lousy company, for sure.  I was still sick to my stomach, and refused my dinner tray when it arrived. Just the thought….. I couldn’t move my legs because they had been velcroed to a large piece of V-shaped foam to prevent me from moving the operated-on leg past the mid-line of my body, a BIG no-no with hip replacement. My upper body was raised  to a slight upright position and at that moment, I felt, as Pink Floyd might have said “comfortably numb.”

My sister came a bit later after she was done with her patients, to relieve my dad, who was tired and I’m sure looking forward to watching the Dodger World Series game on TV in the comfort of his own home. He kissed me good-by and began his trek to the car. (I worry about him walking so much, especially alone….)

Soon text messages began arriving from friends wanting to know how things went.  I attempted to answer as many as I could, but it was hard without being able to see straight. (I hope you guys weren’t grading my spelling!) A few people called and Karen handled those like a seasoned secretary for the CEO of AIG. “I’m sorry, she’s not taking any calls right now. I’ll have her call you when she’s feeling a bit better.”«click»

I turned on the Dodger game for my sister (who is now undergoing grieving therapy for their excommunication from the World Series).  She’s easy to have around, because we don’t have to talk.  However, her bony little body ( I say that because, although we are the same height, I probably outweigh her by as much as 20 pounds!) was having trouble adapting the the sub-zero temperatures at which  the room was kept.  I kept asking if I could get her a blanket, but she refused and pulled her Dior sweater more tightly around her.

Kalani called and asked about bringing the boys out to see me.  Karen explained that I was feeling pretty crappy and that perhaps tomorrow would be better? But then I stopped her and said, to tell them to come but not stay long as I wasn’t very good company. I missed my family

They arrived with the traditional basket of flowers to “brighten the room” and Kalani, still in his uniform and looking very official, smiled at me with his typical oozing of optimism, reassuring me how great everything was and not to worry.  Of the four, Kalani, Kai, Robert and Charlie, only Charlie seemed not afraid of me.  He came over and gave me a kiss and held my hand while the others stood by looking as if they were afraid I would break if they touched me.  I know seeing people post-op, all wired and tubed, groggy and slurring must be a bit disconcerting.  I reached for Kalani’s hand.  He reciprocated and lightly held mine in a way that I would interpret as tentative. It kind of made me feel pushed away or like I was disgusting, when I’m sure it was his fear of not knowing what the correct protocol was for interaction with someone still drugged with eyes rolling back in her head. Pleasantries were exchanged between the boys and their aunt and Kalani gave her a hug, then leaned over and gave me the slightest kiss ( I was thinking, oh dear I must have “post-op” breath). Robert finally moved near me for a quick kiss good-by, he too seeming awkward in his approach and more like he did it out of obligation, then feeling.  But of all of them Kai seemed the most uncomfortable. He stayed in the background hiding in the dim shadows of the barely lit room, and never did come near me. And then they were gone.

Karen left soon after saying she’d be back tomorrow.  My sister works long hours and then has a family at home to deal with, so for her to stay with me as long as she did was an act of love. (She’s a woman of few words.) And then I was alone…….for about 5 seconds…….

In rushed what would be the beginning of the constant interruption of my days and nights. “I’m here to do your vitals,” the nurse said while putting on a blood pressure cuff around my right upper arm and sticking the thermometer thing in my ear. “How’s your pain level?” Did she mean the pain in my hip or this vice that was squeezing the blood out of my arm. I thought for a moment, and realized with relief that there really was no significant hip pain……….YET. “Is there anything else you need right now?”  I shook my spinning head ‘no’. “Call me if you need anything.”

I tried to get comfortable which is nearly impossible when your legs are bound around a big foamy thing. I couldn’t really turn to either side so as to relieve the growing ache in my lower back from sitting in the same position for hours. I rolled in and out of a doze and must have fell asleep for a few hours until Vitals Woman and the Laboratory Vampires woke me at 2 and the 5 and then………….. Morning was coming soon, right? Where’s the clock?