Unstapled

People have expressed a lot of curiosity about these things, so I offer for your edification:

- the staples the surgical team used to close my wound were metal and just about the size and shape you'd expect, though the spikes that went into my skin were shorter than the ones you find on paper staples, which strikes me as an altogether good thing.
- Barb, the nurse who removed the staples for me at the clinic this morning didn't count them, but agreed that 40 was a good ballpark number. "There were a lot of staples," she said.
- It didn't hurt to take them out - though two or three pinched a bit.
- The whole process took about fifteen minutes.
- the scar is 8.5" long, which, said Barb, is normal for a hip replacement.

There you go. Information for the ages.

When I see my surgeon on September 27 for my follow-up appointment, I'll get the answer to the other question I've gotten a lot: what's my new hip made of?

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Cooped Up - Part Three

August 30, 2016. Standing outside the Allan Gardens Greenhouse.
Got there all by myself on my own two feet. That's 400 metres each way.

Today is August 31, two weeks exactly since the day I got my new hip. 

The staples I felt being put in when I woke at the end of the operation come out today. 

Per the caption to the above photo, I've been training for the walk to my doctor's office, 600 metres north of here on Sherbourne Street. I think I can make it.

As for what's happening in the land of the Yessir Yessir Highway, our friend the Ruler and her Advisors are all still waiting to see what comes out of the Thing. 

Stay tuned.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Cooped Up - Part Two

I had my first visitors in almost a week yesterday. It was nice to see people. It gave me quite a lift. There're more coming this afternoon. Can hardly wait.

******

The Ruler of a small but pleasant realm was in her chambers with the Wizard and a clutch of Wordsmiths. They were gathered around the Thing, the half crow, half groundhog ungodly combination that it was their collective task to name.

They'd just come together in the realization that their task was impossible.

The Thing, for its own part, was unconcerned. It had, in the weeks since it began its captivity, grown accustomed to its surroundings. It was dimly aware of its captors and wished only that they would get around to feeding it the proper kind of food.

What to feed the Thing had been a major preoccupation of the Wizard and Chappie. Indeed, their many failures in this endeavour had been what drove Chappie to find work elsewhere.

They'd given it vegetables, testing whether the groundhog portion was dominant in digestion, but that had made it fart copiously without seeming to nourish it. The Thing actually shrank on a vegetable diet.

They'd then tried insects and bits of flesh to feed the crow half. These meals made the Thing barf, leading to more loss of mass.

After many trials and errors, they'd found a diet of cooked pasta and sugar kept the Thing alive without massive flatulence or vomiting, but it did not grow or thrive.

Wholly stumped by both tasks of feeding and naming the Thing, the Ruler, the Wizard and the Wordsmiths stood around the Thing's pen, mutely regarding it with distaste and anxiety. 

Dorf, the Wordsmith with the lank blonde hair and crossed eyes, put his hand in his pocket, found a coin, and absently started turning it around in his fingers in front of him. The coin slipped from his hands into the Thing's pen. In a flash, the Thing was on the coin, gobbled and swallowed it. 

The Thing immediately began to sing a sweet song. It also seemed to grow.

"Money!" exclaimed the Wizard. "It eats money! Why did I not think of that before?" He drew a coin from his own pocket and threw it into the pen.

As before, the Thing pounced on the coin, consumed it, sang its pleasure and grew a bit more.

For a while the relieved group amused itself by feeding coins to the Thing and making it sing. It had grown by about another third of its original size by the time they were all out of loose change.

Only the Ruler was still anxious. 

"We may all rejoice that we have found by happy accident what makes the Thing thrive, but we still don't know what it does.

"I also wonder," continued the Ruler, "if money goes into the Thing, what, exactly, comes out?"

To be continued ....

Thanks for reading!

Karen











  

Cooped Up

Kona, my niece's golden lab, sleeping under a table on a purse.

By the way, but for this hip replacement, I have never in my life had surgery, or required an extended period of convalescence for any reason. So this is all very new to me.

Isolation is the biggest change. In a normal day, especially at work, I will see several dozen people, have lots of things to say to them and they will all have lots of things to say to me. 

For almost a full week now, except when we went to Toronto Western, the only other person I have seen is Bruce, and I spend a lot of my time alone. There's not a lot to talk about.

Maybe that's why, when we were coming back from the hospital on Tuesday after our four hours in Emergency, I couldn't take my eyes off the people on the sidewalk. I chatted up the cabbie, too, something I almost never do.

*******

The Ruler of a small but pleasant realm was in her chambers, holding an audience with a bunch of Wordsmiths, and just managing to keep her temper. Hank, the realm's lead Wordsmith had told her that the one thing she wanted him to do - which was to name the Thing - could not be done.

"Why on earth can't it be done?" she asked.

"We don't know what it does," Hank replied. "You can't name something unless you know its purpose. People need to know from the Thing's name what it will do for them."

"You mean like Wordsmith?" said the Ruler, not at all sarcastically.

"Exactly," said Hank.

"Wizard, can you please explain to the Wordsmiths what the Thing does?"

"The Thing is a digger and a flyer," explained the Wizard, "it doesn't do either yet, but will in time with the proper care and feeding. As it develops, it will dig first, fly second, and do both with great skill once fully grown."

"It digs and flies, so it's like a burrowing owl?" asked Carrie.

"More like a kiwi," said Dorf.

"But it's not a bird," said Sterling, "it's got fur and paws."

"So like a burrowing bat," said Kitty.

"Is that a thing?" asked Hank.

"It is now," said the Ruler. 

"OK," said Hank, "it's a thing that burrows and flies. Closest analogue is a burrowing bat. Let's work with this. First question, what do people like about bats?"

"I hate bats!" squeaked Carrie. The other Wordsmiths nodded, sadly.

"All right," Hank said, "bats aren't high on the list of appealing mammals. Is there anything likeable about them?"

"They eat bugs," said the Wizard.

"But don't they also drink blood?" asked Dorf.

"Yeah, and they get caught in your hair," added Kitty.

"These are just urban myths and stories," said the Ruler.

"But they show you what you're up against," said Hank.

"You've got a thing that doesn't do anything right now. It will be unappealing when it grows up. Even if it does something useful some people will believe that it's bad no matter what you say about it.

"Honestly, the least of your worries is what you're going to call it." 

To be continued .....  

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Harder Than You'd Think

Mural, Halifax, May 2016 - Sea Creatures and Sugar Candies

Now that I am well and truly settled in on the path to recovery, there's little to tell.

It's time, then, to return to our friend the Ruler and her Advisors.

*********

The ruler of a small but pleasant realm sat in her chambers, joined by the Wizard, her most skilled improvisor, but missing Chappie, her most trusted advisor, who had recently moved on to another position.

The Ruler wasn't looking forward to the process to replace Chappie, but she had an even bigger problem on her hands.

In the middle of the floor of her chambers, what she and the Wizard had come to call The Thing squatted grotesquely inside a pen set on a layer of soiled newspapers. It looked like an ungodly hybrid of a groundhog and a crow, with patches of fur and feathers randomly set on its hide, one wing, two burrowing claws and a feathered tail. Although it had some of the parts required to do both, it could neither fly nor dig.

This was the Emperor's prize, to obtain which he had burned bridges and left behind patches of scorched earth all over the kingdom. It was but one of a hundred little monsters the Emperor had fought for and brought home, but the Ruler had gotten rid of most of those.

Since she had cleared her castle of monsters the month before, the Ruler had heard reports of how the other abominations were, with proper care and feeding in other realms, turning into fairer creatures, mostly gainly, with good chances of becoming something useful.

The Ruler and her Advisors had lavished care and attention on the Thing, but to no avail. Their first task had been to name it. Nothing had come of that effort so far. The Ruler and the Wizard were down to the last batch of advisors who might be able to help.

"Fetch the Wordsmiths, Wizard," said the Ruler, "Let's see what they can do."

The Wordsmiths were the realm's official source of all Necessary and Important Terms. As she found them dreary to deal with, the Ruler preferred to leave them as her last resort.

Five Wordsmiths filed into the Ruler's chambers on the Wizard's summons. The first among them, Hank, was tall, youthful, energetic and needed a shave. The second, Carrie, was petite, skittish, with a crooked smile and a distracted air. The third, Dorf, had lank shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, blotchy skin and crossed eyes. The fourth and fifth, Kitty and Sterling, hung back behind the first three and tried not to be seen.

"Welcome, Wordsmiths," began the Ruler, "we are anxious for your council on the naming of the Thing..."

The Wordsmiths as one furrowed their brows, puzzled.

"... that Thing there - the one in the pen," said the Ruler, pointing to the plainly obvious Thing in the pen.

The Wordsmiths looked in the direction the Ruler pointed. Astonished, they made various noises of shock and surprise.

"Surely word has come to you about the Thing," said the Ruler, her patience ebbing the same way it always did with the Wordsmiths.

"Oh, sure," said Hank, "we'd heard rumours but no one came and spoke to us directly about it, like it might have been nice for them to do."

Ignoring the dig, the Ruler continued, "perhaps a few people of the realm either deep in a coma or lost on a quest have not heard about the Thing, but those of your stature and role would know without being told that the Thing is the apple of the Emperor's eye and the prize of his future plans for the kingdom.

"He has asked us to name it. Countless advisors have brought forth every conceivable moniker..."

"Such as...?" interrupted Hank.

"Such as grand names like Titanic," said the Wizard. 

"I can see why that wouldn't work ..." said Hank.

"Historic names like Nixon..."

"Ouch," said Hank.

"Even unimaginably stupid names like Katniss Everdeen."

"You really need our help," said Hank.

"On that we're agreed," said the Ruler, hoping to get down to business. "So you know our dilemma. You understand our need. You are the leading craftspeople in the kingdom on matters of this sort. What is your advice on the naming of the Thing?"

"It can't be done," said Hank with finality.

To be continued ....

Thanks for reading!

Karen

  

  

A Week Ago This Very Minute

I'm starting this around 12:30 p.m. and am going to hit the "publish" button at 1:00 p.m. local time no matter what shape this is in, so forgive any awkwardness, verbosity, repetition, spelling mistakes and all the other the things I work so hard to spare you, my readers.

A week ago this very minute, I was being lifted off an operating table, a brand new gash in my right hip.

I was sedated, anaesthetized, refrigerated and, as already noted, truly surprised.

Since then I've had more adventures than one might think possible for a middle-aged woman fresh out of surgery.

But the only thing that really matters is how well am I healing; how much mobility am I regaining.

On the healing side, I think I'm doing fine. My pain is well under control. Bruce observed this morning that the (substantial, impressive) bruising around the site of the operation has really subsided. My hip and upper thigh are still swollen, but nothing like they were. I can tell from the crinkling around the edges of the dressing how much the flesh has shrunk. All good.

Then there's mobility. 

Of necessity, I did a lot of walking with a walker my last night in hospital, but it felt awkward, difficult and painful. Lifting my leg in and out of bed was the worst. 

When I got home, I moved around with the walker, but by my second full day home, Monday, I really felt like I didn't need it, though that choice didn't turn out all that well.

When we made the decision on Tuesday to go to Toronto Western Emergency, it did not even occur to me to take the walker. I managed fine with just the cane, grateful as I was for the offer of the wheelchair by the handsome young male nurse. 

For the first day and a half at home, going up and down the stairs for meals was out of the question. Last night, I ate my dinner seated at the dining room table. Lunch today, the same. I count the climb up and down the stairs as physio. 

I think I'll always like breakfast in bed, though.

Not bad for one week.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Episode Sub-plot Draft: Toronto Western Hope

The whole episode will deal with the stories of four people - George, Charisse, Karen and Susan - who come to the Emergency Ward of Toronto Western Hope hospital at more or less the same time, 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday August 23 2016. This is Karen's story.

Establishing shots of a middle-aged couple. Karen's just had hip surgery. Bruce is taking time off work to help her. A foreshadowing flash back clip shows her weeping on his shoulder the morning after a demoralizing mishap. She sobs that she feels stupid about accidentally breaking the baby toe on the foot of her good leg the day before. She says she's afraid that during one or the other of the laxative-driven trips to the washroom on her last night in the hospital, she may have partially dislocated the new hip, which makes an audible noise when she moves it and seems to be mobile in the joint. Her whole medical adventure so far has been a difficult ordeal. She's stressed out and scared.

Next scene:  The couple have agreed that Karen should call her doctor. She's on the phone trying to find someone at the orthopaedic clinic at the hospital to talk to. She's not having much luck. Everyone's on holiday. She finally connects with a person who, after she describes what she's worried about, says, "No one here can answer your question. Go to your family doctor or go to emergency."

"I think I've really only got one choice here," says Karen. "we've got to go to Emerg."

Next scene, at Toronto Western Hope Emergency Ward: Karen's talking to the triage nurses, four of them, all lounging in their office - it's a slow day. She asks if her case might be escalated. She's just had hip surgery, has already sat for more than an hour and a half, and it is painful for her to sit for so long. The young woman most in charge looks at the roster and says "you're fourth in line to go to the area you've been assigned to."

"I don't know what that means," says Karen. "The guy who registered me said you could escalate my case if it was causing me pain to sit for so long. So that's what I'm asking you to do."

"The three people ahead of you have been waiting a long time, too."

"And they've all recently had hip surgery?" Karen asks.  The young most in charge woman gives her a look. "Thanks for your help," Karen says, turning and hobbling painfully away on her cane.

Next scene: the big automatic doors to the interior of the emergency ward open for the zillionth time since the middle-aged couples' arrival. A handsome young male nurse [casting note: Liam Hemsworth] calls Karen's name. Her husband helps her lift out of her chair. As she hobbles to the entry way the handsome young nurse asks her if she would like a wheelchair. Deciding right away that she likes this young man, Karen says yes.

Next scene: The couple sit in a private alcove in the emergency ward. The Emergency Ward doctor [casting note: Alan Alda circa 1980] enters, pretending to be confused by the notes taken by the handsome young nurse. Karen repeats her concerns, but omits the detail of the broken toe. Character note on the doctor: he should come across as instantly likeable - a bit no nonsense; a bit compassionate as the Buddha. The doctor does some quick tests (including one where he grabs the broken toe; hilarity ensues) that immediately reassure Karen and her husband that whatever is going on in her hip, it ain't dislocated. The doctor explains that he forgot to become an orthopaedic surgeon and will call around to see if he can find one to consult with about her concerns.

Next scene: The likeable doctor has returned; he says the movement Karen's feeling in her hip could be any number of things - some gunk in the joint left behind after surgery, some suction - both of which will most likely resolve - but the orthopaedic doctor he spoke to recommends an x-ray as a "least we should do" measure. Now that she knows that there's nothing seriously wrong, Karen regrets taking the doctor's time and reassures him that she only came to emergency because she couldn't get anyone to give her this information over the phone. The doctor says, "You don't need to reassure me of anything. You're here so I'm going to help you."

Next scene: Karen's waiting, in a hospital gown, for her x-ray in a large space with many doors, one of which leads to a washroom. SFX: toilet flushes. Karen does not look up as a middle-aged black woman in stylish summer clothes emerges from the washroom. The woman says "hi." Karen looks up, smiles and says "hi, how are you." "I'm good," says the woman, "how are you."  Karen says "I'm swell." They both find this funny and laugh a little. 

The woman gathers her friend who has just emerged from one of the x-ray rooms. On the way out the nicely-dressed black woman wishes a good day to a guy on a gurney and waves goodbye at Karen, who waves back.

Next scene: Back in the private alcove in the emergency ward. The doctor returns and asks about the video game Karen is playing on her iPad to help pass the time. Then they talk about solutions to game puzzles you can find on the internet and about Donald Trump. The likeable doctor finally gets around to saying that the x-rays don't show any problems, but if what is happening gets worse, she should see her surgeon. Karen says she has an appointment on September 27th. The doctor says "sooner than that." She says, "I think he's on vacation until the 6th of September." "Then come back here if it gets worse" says the doctor and he gives her a work order.

Tracking shot: camera follows the couple as they leave Emergency, both feeling relieved that nothing is wrong. On the way, they see the handsome young nurse. Karen smiles at him and says that everything is OK. He smiles and says he's glad.

Final scene, exterior shot of the hospital: as the couple climb into a cab, Karen says "I guess that was a good use of four hours. And my toe didn't bother me all that much."

-SCENE-

Thanks for reading!

Karen

And Then I Broke My Baby Toe

Healing at home: my little anti-pronation, broken toe splinting get up. 

I was wondering, as my days became dull almost immediately upon my return home, what else I was going to write about.

I will tell you about my time on the orthopaedic surgery ward. 

My roommate, Catherine, and Jonathan, a "long-term" (meaning, I think, more than two nights) patient on the floor, were both waiting to transfer to other care facilities. Both were suffering from more than just recent joint surgery. And they dominated my experience on the ward.

Catherine had been brought to my room from elsewhere in the ward and was having trouble adjusting to the change.  

Even with a caregiver and a nurse in the room with her at the time, she fell - rendering nugatory the ward's recent accomplishment of 60 days without a fall. After that, they gave her something to calm her down but she stayed agitated the entire night.

This was due in part to Jonathan who sat right outside the door to my room. Jonathan talked. Loud, unending, often very angry-sounding monologues, in Polish or Ukrainian or something. The only word he said that I recognized was "Pakistan." Once he got started, he would go for hours. 

He was our Muzak. He ran day and night.

During that first night on the ward, Catherine would drop off to sleep and Jonathan would start hollering again, starting her awake. She would call for help and struggle to get out of bed. She demanded to know what was happening in her house.

Poor thing.

So, between these two, I didn't get much of a first night's sleep. The second night was calmer, with only one incident. The ward team gave Catherine a suppository and then gave her something to help her sleep. They forgot to put a diaper on her, so I was awakened by the sounds - and smells - of a hospital team cleaning up a befouled bed.

On the third night, they moved me to that private room I'd been longing for. Weapons grade laxative was what kept me up that night.

The sad saga of Catherine and Jonathan was all I had to tell you, and then I broke my toe.

That went like this.  

I'm doing all the things I'm supposed to, plus a few other things, like rigging the foot of my operated leg to counteract its inclination to flop out to the right, which is a Schedule A DON'T DO after hip surgery. This is more comfortable than it looks. And it helps keep my foot pointed in the right direction.

The work I've been doing has paid off. I already have more mobility, less swelling and pain, more strength in my operated leg.

So I got a little cocky. This morning I was using my cane (not my walker) to walk ellipses around the master bedroom - and was doing very nicely thank you - when I lost track of where everything was and stubbed my left baby toe on the cane.

I looked down. My baby toe pointed north while all the others pointed east. My first thought was, "how am I going to put on a shoe?" My next was "emergency wards don't do anything for broken toes." And then "so I guess I'll have to fix this myself." And "how much is this going to hurt?"

So I gently took my toe and moved it so that it pointed in the right direction. There was no pain at all. I then splinted the toe with some medical tape and the adjoining toe, finished my physio and sheepishly descended the stairs. Once down the stairs, I added the support of a good pair of slippers to my poor little toe.

It is just so stupid that the foot on my good leg is now going to take longer to heal, and cause more pain, than my operated leg.

Today's moral: don't get cocky.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Bed-Side Blog

Coloured in the hospital while I waited for my Gummy Drop lives to regenerate.

I'm home now - Sunday, August 20. Have been since about noon yesterday. 

They sent me home with, among other things, 100 opiate-derived pain pills, but, thanks, I'm done with those. There are worse things than pain. Like the weapons grade laxatives you need to take if you're on opiate-derived pain pills. 

Tylenol is doing a good job of keeping the soreness down to a dull roar. 

Now I just have to focus on physio, not falling, staying positive and healing. 

On the physio front, you get points just for sitting in a chair, which is what I am doing now. Other highlights of the day: I climbed up a flight of stairs. I took a shower (Bruce helped). I stood for five minutes. I walked (with my rented walker) back and forth along the length of the master bedroom ten times. I climbed down a flight of stairs.

Nowadays, these are major accomplishments.

Here's something I wrote when I was in the hospital:

I've written before about the miracle of pain relief. Now I'd like to say a few words about the raw surprise of anaesthesia. 

I sat in an almost comfortable chair for a couple of hours after checking into Toronto Western hospital the morning of Wednesday, August 17, 2016. Then I was accosted by a friendly stranger - who introduced himself as an anesthesiologist. He had a name, too, but what I remember is his job. We had a pleasant chat about all the stuff I already knew about my surgery but I had one question for him, "when will I go in for the spinal?"

"Right now," he said.

I left my bag of stuff and my cane behind and walked with him through some anonymous hospital corridors, into an incredibly bright room jam cram full of people.

A team of seven women hooked me up to monitors, installed  an intravenous shunt into a large vein on the back of my left hand (a moment in my life I will be happy to forget; I almost started to cry) and gave me the shot to my spine that would make me numb from the waist down. 

The oddest moment in that unfamiliar arrangement was when  they asked me to tuck my chin and slump forward (I was seated on the bed with my legs over the side). I did as I was told and was not expecting oohs and aahs, but that's what I got. One of them said I should come back and give demonstrations. On the planet almost sixty years and I did not know my special talent was to tuck and slump. 

I was numb almost instantly. Then I was wheeled into the operating room. Then there was a flurry of activity the likes of which I'd never in my life been the centre of. They had me on my side and were rearranging my gown and taping it in place and moving me down the table and then immobilizing my arms and I was chilly - especially the hand receiving the intravenous feed - I heard one of them say look she's shivering. 

Then I wandered off somewhere and woke up, still on the operating table. Someone said "hello" and explained they were just putting in the last of the staples.

I felt them putting the staples in. Just the pressure. No pain.

And that was it. I was wheeled into recovery to stay until I could show them I could move my legs even a tiny little bit. That took about twenty minutes. Then they wheeled me, on my bed, to my room. I'd asked for a private but none were available. [More about my roommates later.]

The surgeon dropped by later that day with a couple of residents in tow. He had nothing to tell me except that it went fine. His job was finished, he said. My job was just beginning. Tasks one and two were to breathe deeply and wiggle my toes.

Yes sir.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Nothing To Do But Wait

Well, not nothing.

I can colour (see above).

Watch Netflix (where all the shows I want to watch sooner or later talk about Hitler).

Cook (there's two other people in the house with me right now and they need to eat).

Dispatch aforesaid two people on errands (last night it turned out that the burgers we bought from Cumbrae's weren't fresh, so, they went back and got some fresh ones - plus bacon).

Plus wait. One more day. This time tomorrow I'll be at Toronto Western.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Product Placement

The "life without NSAIDs" results are in: I'll be saving myself for the 50-metre walk to surgery admitting on Wednesday. 

This means the world needs to come to me.

So far I am in receipt of daring innovations like California Pinot Grigio in a can, brought home from the liquor store courtesy of my sister and husband :

And

Slippers with neoprene heel cups and removable (turquoise; other colours available) plastic soles for quick transitions between indoor and outdoor use.  Shipped in less than 7 days from the UK. 

Plus, other essentials - Purdy's chocolates and some works by the great Joe Rosenblatt - hand-delivered from British Columbia:

As well, not pictured here, delivered from somewhere up in Vaughan for a $20 fee, a rented walker and a raised toilet seat for those tender days after I'm back home.

I'm all set.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

After the Anti-Inflammatories Wear Off

Pipe Cleaner Graffiti By Fenced-in Old Growth Forest Fragment - Sherbourne Street

I have lots of instructions to follow in order to prep for my surgery less than four days from now. The most challenging is that I have had to discontinue taking anti-inflammatory medication - something I've been doing practically non-stop for more than a year.

The NSAIDs (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) irritated my stomach, but, on the rare occasions when I forgot to take them, I came to appreciate the good they did me.

It's Sunday afternoon and I haven't had a pill since Friday morning.  It's easy to over do things. I went shopping yesterday and was on my feet in the kitchen for a couple of hours cooking in preparation of my sister Carol's arrival. 

The outcome of that is I'm pretty much off my feet now, and will have to stay that way until tomorrow. Bruce will go out to the airport to pick up my sister, but I can't go with him. Too much walking.