OK, that was a little different. On Tuesday, where I last left off, Kirsten and I motored downtown on what was promising to be a triple digit temperature day. I soaked in the contrast between the midsummer outdoor scene and the institutional florescent environment we were about to enter. K drove carefully around the hospital block plotting out her parking and return strategy. The parking terrace was a half block or so away from the North Entrance we were directed to and I took my last stroll with her on the arthritic hip.
We checked in at a kiosk and picked up a pager, no TSA or full body scans. The waiting room had about 30 people in it including babies, a family of 8 or 10, lots of older couples. After a few pager beeps and a few forms we were taken to a small exam room where I donned a complex yet classically undignified hospital gown and a orthopedic white full length surgical stocking for my right (good) leg. Bobbi the nurse did the bracelet and drew some blood, put in the IV port and after about 45 minutes an orderly came and wheeled me toward the operating area. In quick succession we met the chief operating nurse, the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. They all looked great, cheerful, energetic, lights all the way on. The anesthesiologist came in asking me how I "wanted to do this." Curious question I thought, but I had just been thinking about that and asked if a general was necessary. He said absolutely not and described an epidural that was about a tenth the strength required for childbirth with a little sedative chaser. He said I would be numb and dysfunctional from about the belly button down (!) and that the sedative would probably cause a little amnesia. I'll say. They wheeled me into the open, laminar air flow operating room where about a half dozen folks in scrubs were scrambling around looking competent. The anesthesiologist handed me a hairnet head booty to put on . . . and then I opened my eyes in the recovery room. The only thing I could tell or feel that was different was that I now I had white full length surgical socks on both legs.
I felt great, not tired, not "hung over" and even, I thought, a little refreshed. However, it might be a little telling that 3 days later I can't quite remember how long I sat in recovery, but it seemed like just long enough for the radiologist to get an x-ray then I was wheeled into my private room for the rest of the hospital stay and reunited with my sweetie.
We stayed pretty busy with a little room service (I think hospital food is just great and the coffee at LDS was delicious) the various nurses coming in and out with their big healing smiles and a few texts and phone calls. Kirsten was fighting hard to hide the fact that she has a raging summer cold and wasn't feeling all that energized herself while I basked in constant affirming attention. The surgeon came by and said he was proud of himself, the that procedure "went pretty much perfect." He said he even made a smaller incision, 3 inches instead of 4. He described my left hip as "horrible" and, from the x-rays, my right hip as great. I have to say I am impressed by the guy. Later the next day one of my patient cohorts said Hickman had performed 11 surgeries that day!
At this point I was describing the surgery as less demanding than an eye exam. And at that point the epidural had not worn off. That night, when it had, I suffered a little episode while trying to go to the bathroom where my bp dropped to about 90/50, lots of sweating and nausea and having to holler out the door a couple times for help while I white knuckled the bathroom grab bar to keep from fainting. Back in bed one of the now swarming team of people clipped something into my IV and I slept for an hour or two. I haven't felt any where near that bad since.
Time to pee. I mean now, as I blog this. Later on I'll describe the hospital PT, the on time trip home and what recovery has been like here with beautiful and attentive Kirsten at my side. Except for the as predicted no BM as of yet, everything great so far!
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