They say it’s the second day out that’s the hardest after surgery. I guess I’d agree to that. But honestly, the incisions don’t hurt that badly. Did you know that they inject the incisions with a pain killer? I mean, wow, no wonder they didn’t really hurt even in recovery. It’s the rest of me that hurts. What on earth do they do to you while you’re asleep that causes all these other muscles to hurt?
Things went well over all. My neighbor and her SO ended up driving me and then she insisted on staying with me while I waited and waiting while I was in surgery and then hanging around while I was in recovery. I think that’s boring work and I did my best to convince her she didn’t need to do that. Her father died recently and I really think that was a lot of her need to stay there with me. After I realized that I shut up and just said thank you a lot.
I was pleasantly surprised that they actually got me in for prep ahead of time. I figured with what was supposed to be an easy surgery I’d be pushed to the end of the day again. But no, zipped right into line. And the surgery, I hear, went pretty well. There was one adhesion but I guess that wasn’t too bad. I’m very sore today and I guess that’s partly from them having to shove my liver and other organs out of the way.
All the staff I met were great, friendly and helpful. It was the hospital itself that was a total screw up. I got to post op/recovery around 2PM and I was coherent enough to see and read the clock across from me by 2:30. And I was sitting up and comfortable by 3:00. And yet, I got stuck there until after 8:00 PM. On an uncomfortable gurney. They didn’t have a room, they said. They had a room, but no bed. They found a bed but no longer had a room. They had a room but it needed to be cleaned. And this has become normal for this hospital, apparently. They so overbook and then claim that they can’t control who comes in through the ER. I realize they need to make money but this was crazy. And, of course, wasn’t only me that was stuck in post op for hours.
Then there was the diabetes thing. At least post op was aware I have diabetes. But they were trying to give me insulin like I was type 1 – 6 freaking units for a blood sugar of 250. Type 2 is different, most of us are hideously insulin resistant. I can throw 50 units at a blood sugar of 250 and still not have it drop below 150. So, okay, I understand they might not want to do that but they need to understand how to do corrections for type 2. And then when I got to the floor, I finally tested my own sugar at 300 and they didn’t even know I was diabetic. They eventually gave me some corrections for high blood sugar before eating – but nothing to cover the food. And no lantus, no metformin.
Same thing, really, with other meds. My blood pressure was high, how shocking. Would it be possible to actually take my blood pressure medication? No breathing treatments but they let me take my own albuterol that I had with me. The only thing they wanted to give me was pain meds and nausea meds, just in case. I did finally get blood pressure and neurontin but it was just so disorganized. The poor nurses and other staff were very nice people but far too busy with the crowd they had to deal with and somehow the computer was not sharing information from unit to unit. I’m very glad that I didn’t hurt that badly, my blood sugar was not high enough to be in the dka range, and I was comfortable enough just sitting in my recliner listening to Wait… Wait… don’t tell me on my mp3 player while fighting with Skype which never did let me log in. I could afford to be patient.
One funny thing with all this lack of communication – when I got to the floor they started doing 15 minute post surgical checks again. But I’ve been out of surgery for 6 hours, I said. Hell, I’d even been up and walking around a little by then. I got the equivalent to a pat on the head and was told they’d be back to check on me in 15 minutes. About 4 or 5 checks later she popped in and said “You were right!” and cut back the checks so I could at least get some rest. I had a really nice talk with one of the older nurses the next day about her feelings on how the hospital and nursing has changed. She worries about the younger nurses who haven’t known any way different from the in and out rush that is forced on them now.
But, I’m feeling less militant about the screw ups now that I’m home. I still intend to fill out the survey because some of that could have been dangerous and sitting around in recovery for 6 hours was just annoying. But I’m home, not feeling all that bad and expecting to feel a lot better tomorrow.
Oh, the kitty kitties! They were not happy at all about being home alone for a day and a night. Zoe threw up some crunchies – I know it was Zoe because she doesn’t chew. Then she was too freaked out to eat dinner. Charlie settled down faster and ate his dinner and her’s. She finally decided she wanted something to eat and then relaxed and both of them stayed close to me the rest of the evening. Zoe slept beside me during my morning nap and Charlie kept walking on me till I at least convinced to lay down. They are back to their normal selves now. Zoe is asleep on the end of the bed and Charlie is hiding somewhere.
She looks tired. Poor thing.