home at last and amazing bowel sounds

I wish I could record the bowel sounds I am making so I could post them here. If you've ever been to a NASCAR event, I think it would be similar to that. Screaming race cars coming around the bend.

I came home about 1:00 today, took some pain meds, and crawled into bed. I slept for two hours and it felt so good to be in my own pajamas, my own socks, my own bed. I'm up now sipping a soy milk and protein warm drink (this is not my entire eating future...just the menu for now) and making these wonderful noises.

I have some really cool spring green socks with big white polka dots on them. I took them to the hospital but they insisted on those traction hose and ugly gray slippers. Blogger is not uploading pictures at this time or I'd post a photo of the sox.

I've been watching Mike clean out his garage today and remembering when we did it. Nothing like exposing all your bad and disorganized habits to the world. I thought our garage sale days were over but Young Regis has some stuff he wants to get rid of so we might have one this summer. I believe in low maintenance garage sales. Just put the stuff on a table and let people make an offer.

As much as this disappoint Cousin Deb, I think I will give up my description of all things bowel and intestine related. Regis said it was like walking with a lioness tonight. There, that's my last comment. Deb, I'll still email comments to you.

new event in the patient olympics

I am the winner of a new event in the Patient Olympics. When I came into the hospital, my blood sugar was 140. I've never been diagnosed with diabetes but they called it "impaired" glucose. Today, my blood sugar was 61. (Song from Rocky...) I had to drink some apple juice to bring it up a little.

I slept really well last night due to my little friend, oxycodone. What a drug. I had some shoulder pain that was way worse than any of the abdominal pain so they gave me oxycodone about 11 since I was off the fentanyl pump. I slept like a rock star...better than any other night. The shoulder pain comes from the gas they use to poof up the abdomen during surgery. It settles in the shoulders which is weird. They recommend the walking as a way to ward off that pain, and well, I was the winner in that event, so by all rights, I should not have had that pain. Harrumph.

No pain this morning and I feel good. I'll write an update after the doctor comes by because I know everyone is as interested in the details of my care and recovery as I am.

progress report

I'm off the O2, off the catheter, off the IV, and off the IV painkillers. I still have a drainage tube and a needle in my hand, just in case, but that's it. The liquids have been going down fine today. Steve and Sherry came for a visit and we walked down to the fountain and sat in the sunshine. I don't have much pain (more like discomfort) even when I move so that's a good sign. Regis is coming in the morning and will take me home after lunch if I am tolerating pureed food.

a true test of a guy's ingenuity

Writing several posts a day for my blog is tough duty when I spend most of my time lying on my back or stumbling down the hall with an IV pole. Everyone has the same zombie look here, the same blue nightie, the same tube-covered pole, the same dazed stare, the same bad hair. At least you don't worry about making a fashion statement.

The pain killing drugs have a weird effect on my mind. I just had a little nap and the experience was that the voices in the hall sounded like the voices of people I know, but they were talking about unfamiliar things like if the guy across the hall should continue to wear his support hose. I think I said this before too, but it makes me really blabby and sort of overly friendly. I was going down the hall on a cart the other day, waving and talking to everyone. Then I saw my surgeon and called out to him. It makes me repeat things, too, as you have no doubt noticed.

I've decided I don't like the taste of sugar free anything. Whatever they use for the sweetener is fairly repulsive and is probably like sorbitol and we all know the ill-effects of that. My Ukranian doctor calls it flatus. When he mentioned it to me, he added "gas" by way of explanation. Yes, I know the word. Maybe he was concerned about it coming across in translation. For some reason, it is funny to hear someone with that accent talking about gas. Cousin Deb, you would love it. Gas and poop are really popular subjects here.

I think my pillow is made from plastic and it makes the back of my head itch like I have lice. I'm painting a lovely picture here, right?

news in hospital land

Let's see. I went for a walk. I went to the bathroom twice. I sat in the chair twice. This is all documented on my white board report card. I make sure the nurses fill it in before they leave. Most of the time they give me smiley faces.

I had sugar free kool aid, sugar free jello, and chicken broth for lunch.

I hope Sherry smuggles in some cookies later. Just kidding.

Tiffany called and we visited for a while.

Did you know that when nurses get the air out of a hypodermic needle, they squirt the liquid on the floor? That seems odd.

My stomach is about the size of my thumb right now. Not much fits in there, even liquids. That's why the cookies would be a really bad idea.

Who'd a thought it could take 30 minutes to eat a half cup of jello.

Nobody seems to bus the dishes around here.

There is no such thing as too much information for nurses. They want to know about everything and usually they want to see everything. Really. This is why it would be a bad job for me.

shower

I took my first shower and I'm wearing a clean hospital gown. A few weeks ago, I went shopping for pajamas, not realizing how inconvenient they would be in the hospital. The blue things with the wide open backsides are doing just fine today.
Funny the things I find to brag about. I did spare you, gentle readers, a few details that went to Regis by email.

patient olympics

Jen just came in and pronounced me the gold medal winner of the patient olympics. She said I'm way past others who had surgery the same day (I'm not competetive...just about some things) and she confirmed the going home plan. She also gave me the plan for getting off the pole (IV, pain killer, O2). The one thing I don't like is the breathing machine. Ugh. I have to perform well in that event to get off the O2 cannula.


Betty, I'm sure our daily swimming helped my in-shapedness for this. I can hear the Rocky song...ta da da...da da da. Or is that the fentanyl drip?

loss of propiety

I was walking down the hall last night dragging a bag of urine behind me, pushing a pole with about a hundred lines and monitors, with a three-day old hairdo and an ugly hospital robe. The new pajamas in my bag haven't see the light of day and I haven't had a shower since Monday. So far I have not gone out with my ass flapping in the wind but that could be coming. I've seen other people do it. I had male nurses (Todd and James) last night which made me squeamish at first but they were't bothered by my old self so I decided to not be bothered by them and they were wonderful caretakers. Meghan took the catheter out this morning (Regis says I am giving too much information which isn't like me.) so I'm independent in the john. I also get to drink clear liquids and I can tell you that sugar-free cherry kool-aid tastes grand. If things continue to go well and move through the system (so to speak), I'll be able to go home Thursday afternoon. Is that tomorrow?

i'm back

But can't write much. Tubes hanging off my hands one of which is a fentanyl drip. More later...

Comfortably Numb

Teresa finally got to the room. About 20 people all crowded around hooking things up, poking, prodding, and generally pissing the old girl off. Then they hooked her up to the morphine drip. Suddenly she is seeing the world like in an entirely different way. I think that all those people are still annoying her, but she doesn't seem to care. The remainder of the day will no doubt be devoted to sleep and weird dreams.

Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?

Come on, now.
I hear youre feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.

Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.
When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I got that feeling once again.
I cant explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

A Guest Appearance from the Sultan Of Sarcasm

Good morning to all. Teresa made the call last night and discovered that the honor of her presence was requested at 5:45. That was both good and bad. The good was that she had little time to truly morph into the Nervous Patient. The bad was that we needed to be front and center at 5:45 after what I will charitably characterize as a night of rest. It was actually worse than that. Who sleeps well away from home? Who sleeps well when their nerves are on edge? Who sleeps well when their partner spends half the night traveling back and forth to the latrine, the result of the time honored ritual of bowel prep?
So Teresa is currently in surgery. They have the family's waiting experience as finely honed as that of the patient. First came the short tour, then multiple cups of coffee provided by the
wonderful volunteers, and finally the constant updates. "They just took Teresa in, Sir." "They will be inducing sleep and inserting the catheter soon, Sir." "We will be back to take you to her room to wait, Sir." They also have a large screen devoted to keeping on updated on the progress of each patient identified only by number. I found that those around me were into watching the board as though it was a horse race. There was a motley group looking as though they had made the trip up from the State Hospital who provided commentary. "Hey, look, 850159 (Teresa) is in surgery at 8:03. They are in the lead." "Look, 850177 is in recovery way ahead of everyone else." "Dude, look, they took mom's number off the board. I wonder what they means?" The sudden appearance of the chaplain, and her surgeons (pictured above) should have been a clue, but I digress. So here it is 11:00 and I am still waiting. For the 17th time they were by to tell me that all was going well and I thought I'd pass that along to you. More updates will follow as they become available.
11:40 Addendum: I am sitting in this rather sterile room awaiting Teresa's arrival. I haven't heard anything as yet but I am sure she'll be coming in fairly soon. So far the major highlight has been watching Mr. Urstadt(sp?) parade up and down the hall taking his morning exercise. Very impressive to see a man of his years walking at that speed with such ease. Very, very, impressive watching the nurse trying to persuade him to slip on another robe to cover his ass so to speak. He's having none of it, and in fact if it weren't for the occassional wink that he tosses in the nurse's direction you'd think he was oblivious to her.
They just called to report Teresa is in recovery. So that's good news. Before I was distracted by the errant hinder I was commenting on the sterile environs which will soon be Teresa'a home for a few days. Attached to the ceiling is a contraption like the one on the left. When they finally bring her in I hope she is asleep. She isn't going to be happy when they do this to her.

restless night

Restless night's sleep. Strange bed, strange noises, weird visions in my head. Heading to the hospital at 5:15 to check in at 5:45. Come back for an update later.

here's the plan

Here's the group shot we took yesterday. I love these pictures Regis takes with the tripod because they look like everybody squeezed into a small space and the last person jumped in at the last second. That's how it is. Regis and I with our white hair should not have been in the front because we took a lot of the flash, but that's ok.

Amber's brother Mikey, on the right next to Reg, just got his commercial pilot's license. He said this means he can fly for hire. That sounds so exotic and cool. Lot of northern folks in the picture: Mike and Peggy are from Grand Rapids, Mikey from Grand Forks, Glen from Brainerd, and the rest of us are from around here...or from Pennsylvania. Who'd a thought.

My surgery, which seemed like it took forever to arrive, is finally tomorrow. Regis and I are leaving for Rochester about 2:00 so we can check into our motel, meet Pepsi, have dinner with Steve and Sherry and Catie, and get to bed early. I have to call the hospital between 8 and 10 tonight to see what time to report in the morning. The last time I checked, I was first on the list so if I haven't been bumped, that will be 7:00. I'm guessing I'll be done about noon, but since I haven't had surgery since I was about 4 (back in the days of ether), I don't know.

Regis will call if you want him to...or send a text...and tell you I'm fine and awake. I'll try to post something later with more details so if you're the curious type, let me know you want a call or check back here.

Regis bought himself a Kindle yesterday. Actually it was a present, but that doesn't matter. He saw Betty's on Friday night and his eyes lit up. I knew he'd love it, gadget man and reader that he is. Both Jill and Tom said they noticed that after some time using it, they went to turn the page. Meaning I guess that you make the adjustment from reading a book to reading on the screen very easily. Amazing. You can subscribe to newspapers and they down load automatically and wirelessly. How do it know?

Because I'm an over-packer, I'm going to make a pile of stuff to take, then I'm going to take half of it out. I know I'll have too much and Regis will get a backache toting my bag down the long hallways. I can't wear any make-up or jewelry tomorrow. Eeeeuw. That will be creepy. Here's a website where you can watch a video of a real surgery.

I may end up writing some more today because I can see I'm not much in a mood to be productive.

saturday night in pictures

bird

This is the redwing blackbird who has been frequenting our feeder this week. He may have up to 15 females making nests in his territory. No wonder he has to come to a birdfeeder. He's too tired to perch on a cattail and look for bugs.

saturday

We went to Tom and Betty's last night for pizza rustica. Tom says it's a traditional Italian Easter pie made with four cheeses and hard salami. This is not Tom's in the picture but it looks kind of like the one Tom made. It was gorgeous and delicious with a bottle of Puck's Pride red wine from Morgan Creek. As happens when old friends get together, lots of stories were told and a few laughs were had.

While we were there, Betty's sister called to say her mom had taken a turn for the worse and Betty should come. It was a airline ticket snafu with Regis, customer service agent extraordinaire, coming to the rescue. He got on the internet and the phone and in about twenty minutes, had her a good ticket at at a reasonable price. I told him it was like the customer service olympics...performing for an audience of five.


A couple years ago, we had these weird holes in our yard that we thought were moles. Might have been moles that time, I guess. I noticed holes again a few weeks ago but this time we think they're from chipmunks. We've seen one running around the yard and in the bird feeder. I suppose the yard nazi next door will be setting traps once he sees them. Not me. They don't eat much and they don't bother me.

Wait a minute. When I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, I glanced out the window and saw three rabbits in the garden. It's like a wildlife farm out there today. I used to curse the neighbor's cat but I think it helped to keep the rodentia population down although Regis tells me that rabbits are not rodents because their scrotums are in front of their penises instead of behind as in rodents. There's a fact for you.

This falls into the category of things that are funny one night and not so much the next day. Regis came home with a note in his pocket on which he had written these two phrases. When I said them, we laughed and laughed. Now, I can't figure out why. Here they are:

• of which I were not any
• of whom I was not one

Must have been the wine that made it funny.

I better get out of my chair and get something done around here.

what month is this?

Next Plains snowstorm getting ready

A band of moderate to heavy snowfall sets up across eastern Nebraska, southern Minnesota, Iowa and central Wisconsin. Significant accumulations of snow are expected.

They can't be serious.

I am not wearing boots again. I'm not putting on those ice cleats to walk around in April. I won't get the mittens out again and I refuse to wear a winter coat. I have sandals out. The sweaters are gone. Do I sound desperate?

Where are the daffodils???

observations

Regis and I went to Patrick's for dinner. I was eavesdropping on a booth down the way that contained two gentlemen who, by looking, were not much older than we are. The one guy said to the waitress, "So, what's the deal with these wings? What are they?" She tries to explain chicken wings. Then he says, "What's honey mustard sauce?" And she tried to explain honey mustard: "Um, it's honey and mustard in a sauce." I could tell she wanted to say, "Jeeez, dude, don't you ever get out?"

I've had a head cold for two days. I've tried everything for a cure: dayquil, cetirizine, tylenol, hot brandy, buffalo wings. Not all at the same time, of course, but nothing works. Actually the buffalo wings worked as well as anything. I will never brag again about not having a cold for a long time. Hubris.

I've been thinking about children I knew who are now adults. When they're kids, you think they are always going to be reprobates but somehow they grow up to be productive citizens. Here are some examples:

Nick came to visit when he was about four. My husband (at the time) had never experienced children that age so when Nick had a tantrum about something and grabbed our ficus tree and shook it like a hurricane force wind, we looked askance and tried to imagine that he would not wind up in prison. He's a social studies teacher now, studying to be a school administrator.

Nathan was the child of some friends who often stayed later than might have been good for a child. When they woke Nathan to go home, he would do that stiffening up thing and slide through their arms into a pile on the floor. Sometimes it took a long time to persuade him to move toward the car. He teaches flight lessons to pilots at a major university now. (I just read that sentence over...flight lessons to pilots as opposed to flight lessons to passengers. Now that's funny.)

Sarah's parents built a house and lived in a camper one summer when she was a child. When we went to visit, she would come around the corner of the house, blonde curly hair full of leaves, mud up to her knees, like a feral child. She just completed a master's degree in math and is doing research to prepare for a Ph. D.

True stories. There are some lessons here for parents. And maybe teachers. And for humans. Kids don't come out fully formed so don't expect much until they grow up.

My ribs hurt from sneezing. Not coughing, sneezing. These are sneezes that will knock you on your ass. Not sneezing for sissies. I saw the president on tv last night. He sounded like he had a cold but he wasn't sneeziing or wiping his nose. I want his doctors and his drugs.

Hey, there's a new waitress at Patrick's who is from London. I asked her if she knew the Beatles. I didn't really, but I asked the next waitress (not from London) and she said she knew OF the Beatles. Ahhhh. It served me right.

Well, that's enough silliness for one night.

narcissism

So, after I post my whine about cold, I remember these wonderful pictures Tom sent of the flooding on the Red River. Interesting that I'm reading The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse and the first part is about a big flood on the Red River.

Wednesday

Ugh. Blergh. I was bragging a few weeks ago that I hadn't had a cold for years. Well, I'm getting paid back for my pitiful lack of humility. It's mostly in the upper right quadrant of my head: I feel pretty good from the neck down but shitty from the neck up. My right nostril and right eye are like unfettered faucets. It's ugly.