Advancements and adjustments
This is the start of Week Three, 14 days since The-Day. Overall, there have been considerable advancements and adjustments.
Little do we realize, but we've been performing daily tasks all of our life by rote, often with both eyes closed. Without any thought, we place either our left foot or our right foot first into our pant legs or socks every morning, pull up, and then repeat the process with our other leg. We shave, brush our hair, eat pizza or clean our teeth with the same hand always, and so on.
When asked by hospital staff on operation day, what hand do you write with -- in my case, the right hand -- then all vein harvesting was done from my other arm and leg. I'm ambidextrous, but mostly use my left hand.
Oops.
This has resulted in learning to brush my teeth and other daily health and life tasks with my opposite (mostly unused right) hand. Try it sometime. It's like starting life all over again, akin to possibly some of the daily challenges a stroke victim might undergo in an early rehab stage. This morning with minor adjustments and grunting, I slowly went back to using my left hand to brush my teeth. Small advancements are at play here.
It's also been two weeks since any attempt at shaving. I've long since left behind the Wolf Blitzer CNN 3 day stubble. At this pace, I'll soon be a welcome candidate as some Mall Santa starting a short term assignment late next month. My neck IV incision has healed nicely, so I'm running out of excuses in this department. Sometime later this week, I'll revisit my face with a pair of shearing scissors and a sharp blade, but not yet.
It wasn't a chore learning to climb steps at the hospital, as they have 10 on each floor for you to try out and master before discharge. I've now got into a unique swaying gait of climbing and descending our two short flights of stairs at home. I come down the stairs sideways, clasping my trusty red pillow across my chest area, the other hand lightly sliding up or down the stair rail for balance. It's not a pretty site to watch, but effective nonetheless.
From things you-likely-don't-need-to-know dept: With a catheter removed, patients are quickly encouraged to use the hospital washroom facilities. It's about 12 baby steps -- sometimes with assistance -- from my bed to the washroom. As the day goes, somedays, this is a journey. Each toilet is equipped with what looks like an inverted kid's cowboy hat, with the brim straddled across the seating area -- an apparatus that apparently allows staff to check the quality/quantity of your urine. Whatever. In the early days, this chore can take some delicate navigating, with either a unsteady frontal approach (not recommended, twice), or a more challenging turn around, and slow squat down in the general area. The latter approach has all of the delicate movements similar to perhaps watching a NASA craft mate with the Soviet space station -- less of course, using any fancy electronics for guidance and dockage purposes. That exercise seemed so Herculean the first few times, less than a fortnight ago. Fortunately, we don't require a standby cleaning staff these days.
If there's a minor upside here to report, my weight is already at minus-two. Translated, that's 2 pounds less than when I entered the hospital. My goal is to plateau out somewhere around minus-fifteen - or about where I used to weigh some 2 decades ago. Can't promise anything more than that, so we'll see.
There is some mobility. I must now be looking and sounding less like a recent stroke victim -- the sort who had long since ceased to have anything relevant to say about life -- than a cardiac out-patient. A small example: This week, the morning shower is becoming a much easier event. A major problem still is the confidence and ability to fully dry myself off and dress afterwards. This still takes two persons and some planning. Hopefully, a few days out from now, this small challenge can be conquered, now that the staples are gone.
One-half of the staples were removed, before hospital discharge. Yesterday, the remaining half were extracted from my chest area and left leg from knee to ankle -- likely a 100 in total. For the curious, they're a classic U design, more industrial size thickness than their office counterpart, about a half-inch in length in each direction. They're nasty little buggers, but quite effective when enough are used.
The lone tender spot is at the bottom section of my leg incision, when the Saturday night admitting nurse accidentally dropped a bottle of pills on my incision. This forced a couple of staples further into my lower leg and ankle area, where there is mostly bone. This was no time to quickly experience the sharp end of Newton's gravitational equation. Big owies, plus a few unprintable adjectives. Quite a muffled few, actually, between streaming tears. My arm and leg is a little tender this morning, but dressing was definitely smoother and faster.
As you can see, most of me is well under way in the healing department. I try not to look at my chest area, unless necessary. The left arm is still ugly to look at and swollen at times. When leaving the hospital it was the size of Popeye's forearm and a deep mauve in colour. This week, it has turned yellow-ochre, as has my right wrist from IV insertions. You shouldda seen how bad the other guy in the fight looked!!
Patty will be home for the balance of this week, then she has to go back to work. We've got about 5 days to get all shower and dressing issues resolved. Tomorrow, I start to do the entire event by myself.
Consciousness can often be called, that annoying time between naps. Indeed, as last week was very tiring. Last week, I definitely required to set aside an hour on the sofa before lunch and about 1-2 hours most afternoons. This has now been shortened to about a long afternoon nap, lasting no more than 2 hours.
There have been moments this week that were simply over- whelming. I'm not seeing any visitors as yet, although family and friends relate over the phone, to keep the dialogue chatty and nervously upbeat, that I sound fine. It's often a period to put on brave fronts, but I still don't feel fine inside. The chest and leg area pain are often intense, just before pain pill time. I'm trying to make a conscious effort to cut down on the narcotic dependency of these little lovelies, but quickly realise, this is a silly concept. A high-low pain pill cycle is followed by a good, light buzz. And more sleep. Keep 'em coming, for now. It was easier to just take a slow deep phone breath, pause; and reply that life has simply changed for a while, not ended.
We always love a spontaneous event, if it involves a quick car getaway. No such luck here so far in the car back seat, trundled up behind my heart pillow and safety harness. I can fly again and get access to the car later in November, barring no unforeseen set- backs. We also haven't had a backgammon game with lunch or dinner since coming home, either. This needs addressing, even if I have to throw a few games to start the process! (She will likely hold back a few pain pills for that last comment. Just kidding.)
So, I have some health back and more mobility. Given the span of only one week at home, there have been momentous small life-advancements here to report, with only a few adjustments along the way.
I knew how I felt and looked two weeks ago. Not a pretty sight. At the time, it was a given that I'd scare all the little villagers down in the valley. Much progress since then, in small increments, even though the villagers should still stay away until after Halloween.
Quiet Wahoo's And Hugs therefore all around to the support players and prayers.
Little do we realize, but we've been performing daily tasks all of our life by rote, often with both eyes closed. Without any thought, we place either our left foot or our right foot first into our pant legs or socks every morning, pull up, and then repeat the process with our other leg. We shave, brush our hair, eat pizza or clean our teeth with the same hand always, and so on.
When asked by hospital staff on operation day, what hand do you write with -- in my case, the right hand -- then all vein harvesting was done from my other arm and leg. I'm ambidextrous, but mostly use my left hand.
Oops.
This has resulted in learning to brush my teeth and other daily health and life tasks with my opposite (mostly unused right) hand. Try it sometime. It's like starting life all over again, akin to possibly some of the daily challenges a stroke victim might undergo in an early rehab stage. This morning with minor adjustments and grunting, I slowly went back to using my left hand to brush my teeth. Small advancements are at play here.
It's also been two weeks since any attempt at shaving. I've long since left behind the Wolf Blitzer CNN 3 day stubble. At this pace, I'll soon be a welcome candidate as some Mall Santa starting a short term assignment late next month. My neck IV incision has healed nicely, so I'm running out of excuses in this department. Sometime later this week, I'll revisit my face with a pair of shearing scissors and a sharp blade, but not yet.
It wasn't a chore learning to climb steps at the hospital, as they have 10 on each floor for you to try out and master before discharge. I've now got into a unique swaying gait of climbing and descending our two short flights of stairs at home. I come down the stairs sideways, clasping my trusty red pillow across my chest area, the other hand lightly sliding up or down the stair rail for balance. It's not a pretty site to watch, but effective nonetheless.
From things you-likely-don't-need-to-know dept: With a catheter removed, patients are quickly encouraged to use the hospital washroom facilities. It's about 12 baby steps -- sometimes with assistance -- from my bed to the washroom. As the day goes, somedays, this is a journey. Each toilet is equipped with what looks like an inverted kid's cowboy hat, with the brim straddled across the seating area -- an apparatus that apparently allows staff to check the quality/quantity of your urine. Whatever. In the early days, this chore can take some delicate navigating, with either a unsteady frontal approach (not recommended, twice), or a more challenging turn around, and slow squat down in the general area. The latter approach has all of the delicate movements similar to perhaps watching a NASA craft mate with the Soviet space station -- less of course, using any fancy electronics for guidance and dockage purposes. That exercise seemed so Herculean the first few times, less than a fortnight ago. Fortunately, we don't require a standby cleaning staff these days.
If there's a minor upside here to report, my weight is already at minus-two. Translated, that's 2 pounds less than when I entered the hospital. My goal is to plateau out somewhere around minus-fifteen - or about where I used to weigh some 2 decades ago. Can't promise anything more than that, so we'll see.
There is some mobility. I must now be looking and sounding less like a recent stroke victim -- the sort who had long since ceased to have anything relevant to say about life -- than a cardiac out-patient. A small example: This week, the morning shower is becoming a much easier event. A major problem still is the confidence and ability to fully dry myself off and dress afterwards. This still takes two persons and some planning. Hopefully, a few days out from now, this small challenge can be conquered, now that the staples are gone.
One-half of the staples were removed, before hospital discharge. Yesterday, the remaining half were extracted from my chest area and left leg from knee to ankle -- likely a 100 in total. For the curious, they're a classic U design, more industrial size thickness than their office counterpart, about a half-inch in length in each direction. They're nasty little buggers, but quite effective when enough are used.
The lone tender spot is at the bottom section of my leg incision, when the Saturday night admitting nurse accidentally dropped a bottle of pills on my incision. This forced a couple of staples further into my lower leg and ankle area, where there is mostly bone. This was no time to quickly experience the sharp end of Newton's gravitational equation. Big owies, plus a few unprintable adjectives. Quite a muffled few, actually, between streaming tears. My arm and leg is a little tender this morning, but dressing was definitely smoother and faster.
As you can see, most of me is well under way in the healing department. I try not to look at my chest area, unless necessary. The left arm is still ugly to look at and swollen at times. When leaving the hospital it was the size of Popeye's forearm and a deep mauve in colour. This week, it has turned yellow-ochre, as has my right wrist from IV insertions. You shouldda seen how bad the other guy in the fight looked!!
Patty will be home for the balance of this week, then she has to go back to work. We've got about 5 days to get all shower and dressing issues resolved. Tomorrow, I start to do the entire event by myself.
Consciousness can often be called, that annoying time between naps. Indeed, as last week was very tiring. Last week, I definitely required to set aside an hour on the sofa before lunch and about 1-2 hours most afternoons. This has now been shortened to about a long afternoon nap, lasting no more than 2 hours.
There have been moments this week that were simply over- whelming. I'm not seeing any visitors as yet, although family and friends relate over the phone, to keep the dialogue chatty and nervously upbeat, that I sound fine. It's often a period to put on brave fronts, but I still don't feel fine inside. The chest and leg area pain are often intense, just before pain pill time. I'm trying to make a conscious effort to cut down on the narcotic dependency of these little lovelies, but quickly realise, this is a silly concept. A high-low pain pill cycle is followed by a good, light buzz. And more sleep. Keep 'em coming, for now. It was easier to just take a slow deep phone breath, pause; and reply that life has simply changed for a while, not ended.
We always love a spontaneous event, if it involves a quick car getaway. No such luck here so far in the car back seat, trundled up behind my heart pillow and safety harness. I can fly again and get access to the car later in November, barring no unforeseen set- backs. We also haven't had a backgammon game with lunch or dinner since coming home, either. This needs addressing, even if I have to throw a few games to start the process! (She will likely hold back a few pain pills for that last comment. Just kidding.)
So, I have some health back and more mobility. Given the span of only one week at home, there have been momentous small life-advancements here to report, with only a few adjustments along the way.
I knew how I felt and looked two weeks ago. Not a pretty sight. At the time, it was a given that I'd scare all the little villagers down in the valley. Much progress since then, in small increments, even though the villagers should still stay away until after Halloween.
Quiet Wahoo's And Hugs therefore all around to the support players and prayers.
posted by leisurelan at 10:20 PM
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