There’s No Turning Back Now

Last time I checked in was before this happened…

Takeaways from this should be: pain, Pain, PAIN, acute muscle spasms, and deep vein thrombosis…but we will get back to my new best friends later in my next post.

Anyhoo…I spent three days in the hospital in a drug-induced haze that stripped away what little dignity I had left. This picture sums it up nicely…

Allow me to set the scene. In the lower right hand corner is the patient (me) in my beautiful yellow hospital gown (high fall risk) completely open at the back so that Deb, my day nurse had an all-access pass to look at my “bottom” (her words) whenever she felt the need to check for bed sores. You will notice that it is hiked up pretty high on the side with my new bionic knee. That is because there were three tubes coming out of my body. The first was a catheter that disappeared into my ever exposed hoo haw connected to…you guessed it… the catheter bag full of my urine attached to Chad’s cargo pants in this picture so that we can go for a walk down the hospital runway and show off my mad skillz to all the other elderly patients in for joint replacements. The other two sexy accessory tubes I had were 1) the drain coming from my knee collecting blood into a transparent container (no worries… this clipped nicely onto said hospital gown for all to see) and 2) my handy nerve block that had it’s own black accessory bag for ease of transport. You will notice that Chad is also holding a second sexy hospital gown so that my entirely exposed backside could be covered while I rolled down the main hospital runway hunched over my walker. A-W-E-S-O-M-E.

Fast forward a couple of days…they finally gave me the green light to leave. The criteria for release were:

  1. Can put her own pants on.

Hmmm….I think that might have been it. It is day 5 after surgery, and I can still put my own pants on, but I digress.

I was pretty much booted out of the hospital to begin my 2 hour journey home with Kathy Bates. The end of freedom as I knew it…

Enter my father who I will be referring to from here on out as Larnie as he is the perfect blend of Larry David and Bernie Sanders all rolled up into one bitter, angry package. It should be noted that we are not Jewish.

Larnie had one job: to show up to the hospital on Wednesday morning with a walker so that I could leave the hospital and get into the house once we arrived at “the Cabin”. Larnie had three days to get this sorted. THREE.

So I am released at noon. Is Larnie there yet? Nope…He wanted to drop off his laundry and recycling first. So Kathy and the nice wheelchair guy at the hospital deposit me in the back of Kathy’s car, when out of the corner of my eye, I spot Larnie’s car trying to find a parking space. When we caught up to him, we discovered that he had somehow failed to follow his incredibly simple instructions. In the back of his car, he had “a walker”. It was broken. The right side would not stay locked so it randomly folded inward and collapsed randomly. It had also been sitting in an attic for about 15 years and had not been wiped down at all. Hmmmmm…. So Kathy and I take the high road, gave Larnie the “You have failed us in ways you will never understand” look and drove off. Come to find out later on, the four adjustable settings on the walker were all set at different heights as well. It took Kathy 30 minutes and two huge blood blisters to turn it into a workable walker that would not immediately send me back to surgery. In hindsight it was probably our fault as we didn’t specify that the walker needed to be in working order.

Turns out none of this would have mattered as Kathy’s plan all along was to leave me in the car with the windows rolled up for however long it took for her to get my prescriptions filled. Good thing I was conscious enough to figure out how to open the door from the inside.

Kate 1: Kathy 0

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.