One of the most annoying post-surgical necessities is the need for blood thinners to prevent blood clots. Since I came straight home rather than heading from the hospital to a rehab facility, I had to administer a daily dose of Lovenox subcutaneously into my abdomen.
Before I left the hospital, I was required to view an instructional video. Choose the site, clean with alcohol, remove the cap from the syringe, insert the needle into the site, depress the plunger, count to three, remove the needle, activate the protective sleeve over the needle, and dispose of the syringe in a sharps container.
For me, this was pretty academic. I waited for about an hour for the nurse to come back so that I could demonstrate that I was capable of administering my own shot. Jim sat patiently on the bed, anxious to load me in the car and head home.
When she finally returned, I opened the syringe and alcohol wipe packages, cleaned the site, removed the cap, gave myself the shot, and properly disposed of the equipment. She looked at me like I had two heads. “That was amazing,” she said. “I just spent the better part of the last hour explaining and re-explaining to the woman in the next room how to do that.”
It never ceases to amaze me how some people make something so simple into something so complex and onerous.
Regardless of the simplicity, I have to say that my abdomen, after 14 consecutive days of Lovenox shots, looks as though I have tattooed myself with a landscape of forsythia bushes and swirls of yellowish clouds. It should be interesting to watch as the colors of the landscape change over the next week or two.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Two Weeks Out and Counting...
As I walked around the house for the 500th time, slowly and deliberately, putting no more than 75% of my weight on the new hip joint while relegating the other 25% to the walker and my arms, it occurred to me that the surgery involved actual skeletal dismemberment. I’m happy I didn’t think of it that way beforehand! If you’ve been dismembered, are you then re-membered when they put you back together? I suppose not. Deconstructed and reconstructed would probably be better descriptors.
So how am I doing? I think I’m doing rather well. Two weeks ago at this time I was lying in a hospital bed, attempting to get some sleep, which my roommate managed to keep me from achieving. PT finally came to get me up out of bed for the first time on Thursday afternoon. I was hurting, mostly from the incision, but I had nowhere near the level of pain I had before going under the knife. When the surgeon came in Friday morning and asked if I was ready to go home, I thought he had lost his mind. I stayed the extra day, and I’m glad that I did.
The home health PT keeps asking about my pain levels, and when I tell her 1 or 2, she looks at me like I’m crazy. I have a rather high threshold for pain; maybe for someone else this would be a 5 or 6. I’m anxious to get to my follow up visit in two more weeks. Perhaps I will be allowed to move from the walker to a cane. Of course, I may miss my walker and its little basket in which I am transporting things like bottles of water, books, and other printed materials I’m working on over the course of the day.
I’m also looking forward to the time (hopefully soon) when I can sit and type for more than an hour without the operative leg swelling up. It is considerably less than it was at first, but I’m still not quite there.
We’ll have a post-surgical redux after the post-op visit!
So how am I doing? I think I’m doing rather well. Two weeks ago at this time I was lying in a hospital bed, attempting to get some sleep, which my roommate managed to keep me from achieving. PT finally came to get me up out of bed for the first time on Thursday afternoon. I was hurting, mostly from the incision, but I had nowhere near the level of pain I had before going under the knife. When the surgeon came in Friday morning and asked if I was ready to go home, I thought he had lost his mind. I stayed the extra day, and I’m glad that I did.
The home health PT keeps asking about my pain levels, and when I tell her 1 or 2, she looks at me like I’m crazy. I have a rather high threshold for pain; maybe for someone else this would be a 5 or 6. I’m anxious to get to my follow up visit in two more weeks. Perhaps I will be allowed to move from the walker to a cane. Of course, I may miss my walker and its little basket in which I am transporting things like bottles of water, books, and other printed materials I’m working on over the course of the day.
I’m also looking forward to the time (hopefully soon) when I can sit and type for more than an hour without the operative leg swelling up. It is considerably less than it was at first, but I’m still not quite there.
We’ll have a post-surgical redux after the post-op visit!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
11:39 p.m. about 6 hours pre-op…
I hope the surgeon is sleeping well. I’m not. I hit the hay at 10, knowing I had to get up at 4 a.m. to skin prep with sterile scrub pads, air dry, get dressed, and make my way down to the main campus of Cleveland Clinic. I’m now up for the third time since I crawled into bed. The wind is howling; the furnace is loud; and I’m suffering from a bad case of pre-operative nerves.
There is no reason for me to believe that this surgery won’t go well. After all, people get their hips replaced all the time. They all swear it’s the best thing they ever did. And I’m younger than most replacement candidates. But, the older I get, the more hesitant I am to go under the knife. In this case, it is an absolute necessity, and I want to say to the surgeon “Call in a few of your colleagues, because as long as I’m going to be under anesthesia, you might as well fix all the other things, too. Let’s see, a face lift would do nicely, and let’s not forget the bat-wing removal, the circumferential body lift, breast reduction and lift, butt lift, and thighplasty. Oh and throw in a little lipo where ever it’s needed, okay?”
There is no reason for me to believe that this surgery won’t go well. After all, people get their hips replaced all the time. They all swear it’s the best thing they ever did. And I’m younger than most replacement candidates. But, the older I get, the more hesitant I am to go under the knife. In this case, it is an absolute necessity, and I want to say to the surgeon “Call in a few of your colleagues, because as long as I’m going to be under anesthesia, you might as well fix all the other things, too. Let’s see, a face lift would do nicely, and let’s not forget the bat-wing removal, the circumferential body lift, breast reduction and lift, butt lift, and thighplasty. Oh and throw in a little lipo where ever it’s needed, okay?”
It is now midnight. I will head back to bed and try again. And if any of you readers out there want to send some good thoughts and a few prayers my way for a successful tomorrow, they will gladly be accepted!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A sad, sad day in Chardon...
I was unaware of what had happened and of what events were unfolding in Chardon this morning until I arrived at work. I had seen helicopters as I pulled off the freeway, but I chalked it up to nice weather for flying. I had barely walked into the office when I was told, and I was immediately informed that a co-worker’s kids were okay and already with their mother. I pulled up the live news coverage, minimized the video and plugged in so I could listen as the news was updated, almost minute by minute.
An hour or so later, we learned that another co-worker had left in a hurry. His cousin was one of the victims. We were relieved when he contacted someone in my office to tell them that she was stable. By lunchtime, we learned that another victim had died at the trauma center of Metro.
I came home to more coverage of this tragic incident. We didn’t talk about it much. We just watched.
Now it is 1:15 a.m. I was in bed at 11, but today’s horror kept making the rounds through my head until I had to get up and write about it. It is too fresh, too awful, too close to home.
What a sad, sad commentary this is on our human existence. News reports say that this boy was picked on and made fun of by his peers. He was obviously troubled. He was obviously different. He obviously thought about taking these actions for some time. He obviously wanted his peers to know his intentions; otherwise he wouldn’t have posted such things on his Facebook page. No one listened; no one reported what they saw or read; no one took the threat seriously.
What a hell of a way to learn that we are put here to care for one another. When we ignore the plight of others, we upset life’s intended balance and things go awry. Maybe we need to spend more time teaching our kids how to be kind, caring individuals. Better yet, we should be teaching by example, by being kinder, more caring adults.
I’m heading back to bed now. My heart is aching for the victims and their families, and I will try to pray myself to sleep, asking the good Lord to help them through this horrible time. But I’ll also pray for that troubled, misunderstood boy who felt so unheard and alone that he resorted to this awful violence.
An hour or so later, we learned that another co-worker had left in a hurry. His cousin was one of the victims. We were relieved when he contacted someone in my office to tell them that she was stable. By lunchtime, we learned that another victim had died at the trauma center of Metro.
I came home to more coverage of this tragic incident. We didn’t talk about it much. We just watched.
Now it is 1:15 a.m. I was in bed at 11, but today’s horror kept making the rounds through my head until I had to get up and write about it. It is too fresh, too awful, too close to home.
What a sad, sad commentary this is on our human existence. News reports say that this boy was picked on and made fun of by his peers. He was obviously troubled. He was obviously different. He obviously thought about taking these actions for some time. He obviously wanted his peers to know his intentions; otherwise he wouldn’t have posted such things on his Facebook page. No one listened; no one reported what they saw or read; no one took the threat seriously.
What a hell of a way to learn that we are put here to care for one another. When we ignore the plight of others, we upset life’s intended balance and things go awry. Maybe we need to spend more time teaching our kids how to be kind, caring individuals. Better yet, we should be teaching by example, by being kinder, more caring adults.
I’m heading back to bed now. My heart is aching for the victims and their families, and I will try to pray myself to sleep, asking the good Lord to help them through this horrible time. But I’ll also pray for that troubled, misunderstood boy who felt so unheard and alone that he resorted to this awful violence.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Friday morning and all is quiet...
I’m sitting at home alone waiting for the cable company to come make the switch from landline to cable phone. It’s time to cut expenses and make more moves designed to spend less, pay down debt and save more. I can’t be the only one thinking this way, but certain things could not be changed until now.
Of course, if someone in Rhode Island hadn’t walked off with my Powerball win, I would just pay it all off, invest the rest and live out my life worry free. Alas, it was not to be. I bought that ticket, recited my mantra “give me the Powerball, I am the Powerball” and it worked exceptionally well. I got exactly what I asked for…the Powerball number…and not a single other number in the winning play! Next time, I’m editing my mantra!
Of course, I shouldn’t complain. I got a 33% return on my investment. I spent $12 and won $4. That is better than my normal return, which is 0%. I will be making strides, however. I will quickly find out what my latte factor is while I’m laid up for 3 months after surgery and unable to drive. I’m sure it will be an eye-opening experience.
Of course, if someone in Rhode Island hadn’t walked off with my Powerball win, I would just pay it all off, invest the rest and live out my life worry free. Alas, it was not to be. I bought that ticket, recited my mantra “give me the Powerball, I am the Powerball” and it worked exceptionally well. I got exactly what I asked for…the Powerball number…and not a single other number in the winning play! Next time, I’m editing my mantra!
Of course, I shouldn’t complain. I got a 33% return on my investment. I spent $12 and won $4. That is better than my normal return, which is 0%. I will be making strides, however. I will quickly find out what my latte factor is while I’m laid up for 3 months after surgery and unable to drive. I’m sure it will be an eye-opening experience.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Okay, the New Year’s resolution to blog weekly…
Has pretty much hit the skids. I rather thought once the holidays were behind me that life would quiet down and I would have time to accomplish something other than work, dinner, grocery shopping, and laundry. Who was I kidding? Like the rest of life, you have time for those things that you MAKE time for; it never just falls into line without a specific plan. I am getting more accomplished on a daily basis using my Action Machine. But I still need to define my plans better. Even then, things happen that just can’t be helped. But with a more detailed plan, maybe one can keep things from getting too far out of hand.
Today I began moving my stuff downstairs. My whole life has to be relocated to accommodate upcoming surgery. No stair climbing for two months minimum post-op. Clothes, office supplies, computer, printer, printing supplies, all my bills, extra checks, meds, toiletries, etc., all have to be moved. The list seems endless. Just one more thing to keep me from my writing tasks, but never fear…once I get home from the hospital I will become a writing machine! I have lots of projects to complete during my medical leave.
Every week is a new adventure!
Today I began moving my stuff downstairs. My whole life has to be relocated to accommodate upcoming surgery. No stair climbing for two months minimum post-op. Clothes, office supplies, computer, printer, printing supplies, all my bills, extra checks, meds, toiletries, etc., all have to be moved. The list seems endless. Just one more thing to keep me from my writing tasks, but never fear…once I get home from the hospital I will become a writing machine! I have lots of projects to complete during my medical leave.
Every week is a new adventure!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Gabrielle Giffords
Representative Gabrielle Giffords is resigning from Congress. To me, this is a huge, but hopefully temporary, loss. We need people in congress who are bright, capable, determined, and never give up. We need people in congress who are willing to cross party lines and work together.
I was mortified when the shooting happened last year. It was a deranged and unthinkable act. I was angry that Gabby had been reduced to a state of having to relearn how to walk, talk, and otherwise function. I was very happy to see how far she had come in that Diane Sawyer interview last fall…and thrilled with the Gabby who made such a succinct announcement of her intention to resign until she feels recovered enough to continue her work for the people of this country. She has made an astounding recovery to date, and I am certain that with her determination and positive attitude, she will once again run for a congressional or senate seat a few short years down the road.
Here's to Gabrielle Giffords. The rest of congress needs to wake up and take a lesson in life, courage, and conviction from this remarkable woman.
I was mortified when the shooting happened last year. It was a deranged and unthinkable act. I was angry that Gabby had been reduced to a state of having to relearn how to walk, talk, and otherwise function. I was very happy to see how far she had come in that Diane Sawyer interview last fall…and thrilled with the Gabby who made such a succinct announcement of her intention to resign until she feels recovered enough to continue her work for the people of this country. She has made an astounding recovery to date, and I am certain that with her determination and positive attitude, she will once again run for a congressional or senate seat a few short years down the road.
Here's to Gabrielle Giffords. The rest of congress needs to wake up and take a lesson in life, courage, and conviction from this remarkable woman.
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