Sunday, March 18, 2018

Signs of old age, I guess


Happy birthday to me! I’m now officially on the road to 50 and just hope I make it.

For my No. 49, and this was premeditated, I celebrated – or whatever the right word would be – in Acibadem hospital, getting my shoulder fixed. Not the same shoulder I got fixed two years ago; the one I hurt picking up a jacket.  No kidding. My suede Timberland jacket fell off my chair at work last year and, when I went to pick it up, an evil gremlin ripped it out of its socket, twisted it and then crammed it back in.

It’s been over a year, several topicals, a shot, steroids, a couple MRIs, X-rays, PT, two cortisone shots and more PT, and finally it came down to surgery. And at that point, after all that, to think I could really be on the road to recovery in a day, well, that was a birthday present. I found out I’d need the surgery last week but they couldn’t get me in until Saturday. I was fine with that.

So for my birthday, I headed up to the hospital, decked in green. I got a lot of weird stares. Oh well.

The hospital, someone at work told me, was like a six-star hotel. I gotta say, it was really swanky. There was a room service menu, but I couldn’t eat anything prior to surgery. Gosh, that’s the worst. I couldn’t eat or drink from midnight to surgery time, which meant 12 and a half hours. No tea for 12 ½ hours – that’s criminal. And I was just so hungry!

There was a giant clock above he TV and I was just counting down until I went under so I didn’t have to think of how hungry and thirsty I was. Finally they took me to the room, which didn’t seem like an OR to me. It had a bunch of equipment in it and I felt like it could have been a warehouse except everything was clean. I almost expected more people to be in surgery at the same time; there was that much equipment.

Anyway, they put me under intravenously. Took no time at all. When I woke up, some two hours later, I was just shaking uncontrollably, but I guess that was normal. No one looked panicked, and there were a bunch of people there.

Back in my room, I was still thirsty more than hungry but when the guy brought food I got hungry again. He brought two meals; I guess because I missed lunch. I had both soups but only the roasted chicken meal. Felt so much better after that.

Everyone in the hospital was nice, but you can’t get a lot of rest with people checking up on you constantly. One person kept coming to ice my shoulder and another would do the IV thing.

I hate the IV thing. It’s preferable to needles going in and out; I get that.  But the idea of a needle living under my skin just gives me the heebie jeebies, It limited me more, too, because I had on arm immobilized and a needle in my other. I couldn't hold the phone to my ear at all.

I was mobile, but when they had the IV hooked up, it was a pain. You think grocery carts have bad wheels? They had nothing on this. I had to drag it from here to there and it would just get stuck on one of the bad wheels. I even resorted to just picking it up but since I had a needle in that arm it creeped me out. I really didn’t want to drop I and rip the needle out of my arm, so I mostly drug it, feeling like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

The rounds continued through the night so I didn’t get a lot of sleep but I haven’t been in real pain yet. One of the IVs was a painkiller but they didn’t send me home with any drugs. The doctor said to just take Advil.

After a tiny breakfast of a piece of pineapple – no tea, no milk, no toast – and the an amazing lunch of salmon, potatoes au gratin and chocolate cake, I got the OK to leave. I was still trying to find out some details and I was walking to the nurses’ station to ask when I saw a lady with tea. She must have caught a glimpse of the look on my face because she offered me some. Did I want tea? Of course!

Now I’m home and doing fine. I have a sling more complicated than one of Wendy’s saddles and a massive ice pack. Playing work by ear but plan on going just out of sheer boredom.

Right now, though, I am curled up with Butch and Sundance.

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