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.

The Countdown Continues

Readers may recall that I drew your collective attention to the "Bricking it for Canada" site that the British comedy show "The Last Leg" started in April 2016. Click here for the most recent total, which is getting very close to the 1.5 billion brick mark.

As for what I'm counting these days, I have officially started my leave. Five days from now, I'll be under the knife. Shortly after that, I'll be recovering at home. I can hardly wait.

And while I look forward to a month and a half of comparative inactivity, our friend the Ruler and her Advisors are busier than ever.

**********

The Ruler of a small but pleasant realm was seated in her chambers watching her team tidy up after a hectic day.

The week before she, the Wizard - her most skilled improvisor - and Chappie - her most trusted advisor - had brought up from the deepest, darkest dungeon in the castle, boxes full of small monsters, the accumulated mass of which it was the Emperor's ambition to set upon the land.

The Ruler's orders were to think of a name for the half-groundhog, half-crow that was the prize catch of the bunch. But she needed to do something with all the other monsters.

As they carted the little blobs and abominations up the stairs, the Ruler's advisors threw out ideas.

"Drown them," said the Wizard, always the pragmatist.

"Set them free again," said Chappie, always kind-hearted.

"Drown half, and let the other half go," said the Wizard, willing to compromise.

"These aren't good ideas," complained the Ruler. "The Emperor laid waste half the kingdom gathering these things. We can't just throw them away."

"We could give them back," said the Wizard.

"You mean back to the places they came from?" asked the Ruler.

"Send them back, but make those who take them want them back."

"Is this the Lesser of Two Evils gambit?" asked the Ruler.

"The same," affirmed the Wizard.

And so it was that the Ruler sent a message to all her fellow rulers throughout the kingdom, requesting they all come to her and pick a monster by order of the Emperor.

The choice for each when they arrived at the Ruler's castle, with the Wizard and Chappie working hard behind the scenes, was between the half-groundhog, half-crow and some other blobby gooey mess.

Without fail, the choice of the other rulers was not the half-groundhog, half-crow.

After a long day of the Ruler forcing small talk and the other rulers faking indecision, the Ruler was left with just the Emperor's prize. 

This was her monster and all she needed to do was give it a name.

"How hard can this be?" wondered the Ruler aloud.

To be continued .....

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

  

Little Monsters

As of today, August 6, 2016, I have eleven days between me and the surgery that will take my life to a new normal, one without constant pain, or anti-inflammatory-caused stomach irritation or (details that I'll spare you) that come from regular doses of iron pills.

But who's counting.

Let's check in on our friend the Ruler and her Advisors and see what's going on in the land of the Yessir Yessir Highway.

***********

The Ruler of a small but pleasant realm, accompanied by Chappie and the Wizard, was descending the stairs leading to one of the deepest dungeons in her castle.

Her mission was grim. The danger, immense. The three descended cautiously, checking for signs of trouble at every step.

At the very bottom of the stairs lay a great monster, recently imprisoned in the Ruler's castle by the Emperor, her boss to the fourth power. 

The Emperor had fought battles all over the land to bring the monster under his control, leaving in his wake many burned bridges and patches of scorched earth. 

The cost to the kingdom in capturing the monster had been great. Now, groping in the darkness down to where the monster lay, the Ruler's job was to bring forward from its vast bulk the reward for which the Emperor had fought.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. The blackness was complete.

"Wizard," whispered the Ruler, "can you cast some light?"

The Wizard lit a match.

"Is that the best you can do?" asked the Ruler, as the tiny light guttered, barely illuminating the Wizard's fingers.

"Sorry," said the Wizard, "wrong pocket." The Wizard tossed the match to the floor and produced from inside his robe three military grade hand lanterns. The combined candle power illuminated the whole room.

Grateful for the brilliance, the Ruler decided not to ask why the Wizard had not given them the lanterns at the top of the stairs.

They were standing in a smallish room, with stone for the floor and walls, and one barred door. 

The monster lay behind the door.

"Do you know the spell to open the door?" the Ruler asked the Wizard.

"Think so," said the Wizard, lifting the bar and turning the knob.

The door opened.

A terrible odour emanated from the room. Directing their lanterns into the space beyond the door, the three gasped as one at what they saw waiting for them.

The monster was in fact not one, but a hundred misshapen, ungodly, misbegotten abominations all swarming together in a mass. None of them appeared complete. Many were missing limbs or sensory organs or mouths. Some were just gooey blobs. 

Nestled in the middle of the seething pile of half-made beings was one especially ill-formed monstrosity. It looked to be half ground hog, half crow, with one appendage for digging into the dirt and another for flying.

The Ruler recognized that this grotesque entity must be the Emperor's prize.

"I think we've found it," said the Ruler. "What say the Official Orders?

Chappie pulled a scroll out from under his tunic. Taking the scroll, the Ruler broke the seal, unrolled the vellum and read her new orders by the light of Chappie's lantern.

"Our orders are to name it."

"Name it?" asked the Wizard, initiating the Did You Read That Right protocol.

"Name it," said the Ruler, completing the protocol.

To be continued ...

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen