My Staycation in Anchorage, Part Six, May I Take Your Vitals?

May I Take Your Vitals?

 

    Sleeping propped up in a hospital bed post-surgery presented some challenges.   Yes, I’ve fallen asleep while sitting up before, but this was different.   I had to be propped up all night.   I artfully arranged some pillows and found a position I thought I could maintain all night.

    “All night.”   What a laugh that was.

2 A.M.:   A nurse wakes me and asks if she can take my vitals.

4 A.M.:  Another nurse wakes me and gives me two Tylenol.

5 A.M.:  A nurse wakes me for another check, including incisions.

6 A.M.:   A nurse wakes me and asks if she can take my vitals.

 

    And so it went all day and all night.  How does anyone get any rest in a hospital?    Vitals every four hours.

    One advantage was that I was in a private room post-op.   I don’t know how that happened.  It might just have been happenstance.

 

    I was restricted to a liquid diet for the first week. On the minimal hospital menu were listed Ensure, Muscle Mile protein drinks, beef or chicken broth, popsicles, and Jello.  I asked the nurse how to get something, she told me how, and then she kindly ordered what I wanted.   Chicken broth and Muscle Milk that turned out to be a protein drink like the kind you can buy at Costco.

 

    The broth was insipid, just like the bone broths I bought and had to drink before surgery.   Only a large dose of salt would bring out any flavor.

   

 I wasn’t hungry at all but knew I had to consume something.  I drank what was delivered over a period of a couple of hours, then failed to order anything else during the day.  Somehow, Ensure was delivered.

    The surgeon stopped by to check and we had a great conversation.

   Diane was there, so she, too, stayed informed.   The surgery, he said, lasted three hours.   In addition to saying the herniated hiatus opening was FOUR inches instead of the size of a quarter, he also went through the post-op dietary restrictions.   He said he wanted me to have at least 300 calories a day.   Two protein shakes would cover that.

    I was discharged the following day and, after stopping at the in-hospital pharmacy and leaving with a bag full of six new prescriptions, Diane and I returned to the hotel room

    I changed and got into bed—propped up as required.   Maybe now I could get some uninterrupted sleep.   I remembered that eight hours had passed since my last Tylenol.  I got out the sheaf of discharge papers and tried to decipher the nurse's  handwriting.  I couldn’t and neither could Diane at that time.

Salmon for you, little one, but not for me.

    So, I took one Tylenol and went to sleep.

    I woke late afternoon to a fresh new hell!   I tried to roll over to get out of bed and a searing, over-whelming pain enveloped the entire side of my right back—shoulder blades to waistline.  It was like a giant spasm or cramp and it took away my breath.

    All I could do was freeze and wait for it to diminish. Though it probably took several seconds, it felt like an eternity.  That continued off and on during the night.   By now, Diane has deciphered the nurse’s handwriting to mean two Tylenol every eight hours, so we stuck to it religiously.

I    n the morning, Diane was trying to help me get out of bed and the pain was the worst ever and lasted the longest  She jumped back with a horrified look on her face, her hands outspread, as I let loose with a LOUD “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”   (Payback to the guests in the room upstairs who must have been moving furniture all night.)

"Laparoscopic browsing"

    I took care of my morning ablutions and went back to bed.   When I awakened near noon, that horrific pain was gone and never returned.   I found I could get out of bed with minimal assistance, but that depended on my starting position.  Sometimes I got stuck and needed a hand on my arm and one on my back.   Eventually, that lessened to just a hand.

    Diane went out to get some take-out for herself and brought back some soup broth from a Chinese restaurant for me.   She said she thought I was eating because I had to and not because I wanted to. 

    That was true, as I had no appetite.    The broth was DELICIOUS.   After that, I never again drank the tasteless broth from the boxes.

It was not piraña broth.   Or maybe it was.

 

Then came Wednesday night and the fright of not being able to breathe.