Last Friday makes it four weeks since surgery. I'm out of the boot and hobbling around on one and three-quarters feet; I'm still favoring the area around my big toe. Still taking Naproxen twice a day, mainly to help keep the swelling down.
I admit it -- I was rather afraid of putting my foot down at first, but my desire to get out of the boot was stronger. The first day, I wore the post-op shoe, more for the psychological comfort of wearing a "post-op shoe." But, even though it is fully adjustable, it is still too wide for my heel and ankle, which makes it uncomfortable to walk in.
As the woman in the waiting room at the doctor's office said, it felt "weird" at first. I stood up, and was completely off-balance, a testimony to how quickly we humans adapt. After two weeks of walking balanced on one heel, I felt as if I were falling forward with every step. I walked around the bedroom, holding onto the furniture, until I felt confident that I wouldn't end up flat on my face!
Despite everything I read to the contrary, I can get my foot into several different pairs of the shoes I already own -- the Skechers clogs that I've been wearing for months now, a couple of pairs of Skechers summer shoes that are well-broken in, and my athletic shoes. And the Crocs that I bought solely to work in the yard. They have now become my shoe of choice for everyday wear.
I have gone shoe shopping twice, hoping to find a pair of adjustable sandals to wear this summer, but no luck. I would describe my foot as "puffy" rather than "swollen" -- semantics, possibly, but it's my blog and my foot and I'll call it what I want! Even the $145 Clark's were not quite adjustable enough. They went on easily enough and felt great, and then I stood up, and my foot started to swell, and . . . that was that. What I was hoping for was something like the Nike Sunray sandals, but apparently they only make them in kids' sizes. The Nike slide for women puts all of the pressure across the ball of the foot, unfortunately; I need something that straps across the instep. So, it looks like the Crocs will be seeing a lot of service for the next few weeks -- or months.
As I may have mentioned, walking is not the issue. Standing is. Walking -- hobbling -- is tiring, but it keeps the blood and whatever flowing, but once I stop, whoosh! Everything expands. Then it's back to elevation and ice. I've managed to make the coffee now for three days in a row, but any cooking that requires more standing than that is . . . problematic.
Speaking of cooking -- I wish I had taken a photo of the kitchen disaster last night. We still can't understand how it happened. Mike put a pizza on the top rack of the countertop oven. When he went to take it out, it had slid off the rack -- but not onto the rack below -- not even onto the heating elements at the bottom -- but underneath the heating elements. It was upside down underneath the heating elements, completely flat. It was a struggle to get it out, and we had to scrape most of the cheese and pepperoni off of the oven and plop it back onto the pizza -- so how did it get there in the first place?
I can only think of one logical explanation -- but he says he didn't do it.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Advice for the bunionectomy-bound
And by bunionectomy, I mean those of you who will be having your bones broken and put back together using screws or pins or some other form of hardware. If you're just having the bunions shaved -- lucky you! You don't need advice, just common sense. And a pair of shoes with a thick sole, such as clogs, Crocs, or athletic shoes, to balance with the walking boot (everyone will need those eventually).
For the rest of us, these are things I wish I had known in advance:
If you live alone, you must have someone come to stay with you for the first week, and preferably two, until you are out of the splint and into the walking boot. I could not have managed without my husband -- and I lived alone until I was nearly 50. There are things you cannot do while on crutches, such as carry a cup of coffee or an ice bag, but of greater concern is the danger of falling and no one there to help you get up.
If you don't have a breakfast tray, this is the time to invest in one. It not only holds food -- it holds a laptop computer at just the right height. And even the weight of the laptop will be too much for your leg at first (yes, your entire leg will hurt for a while).
Gel-pacs. At least two. You'll be given an ice bag, but gel stays colder longer. It also takes a while to freeze, so either buy two so you can trade off, or plan to use an ice bag while the gel is freezing. The ones I have came with covers and velcro straps that hold them in place. Cold is your friend. It will take the swelling down as well as numb your foot
Request a walker rather than crutches. Let me be blunt -- I don't care how young you are, unless you have grab bars installed in your bathroom, you need something to hold on to in order to get up off of the toilet. Don't believe me? Try it. Sit down, then try to get up with only one foot on the floor. Unlike the bed, the couch, an armchair, there is nothing to push against. It can be managed with crutches, but why take the risk of falling? Or install a toilet safety rail.
Even better, if you have the funds or can borrow one, a knee-walker increases your mobility and independence many times over. You may need to experiment with using it in some situations. Add a removable bicycle basket and you'll be able to carry that coffee -- in a travel mug.
Place a chair, stool, egg crate, box -- something stable in front of the bathroom sink so that you have some place to rest your knee while brushing your teeth, etc.
Buy a shower seat. Measure your tub or shower to get one that will fit. Your doctor will tell you that you can stand, balanced on your heel, but why risk slipping and falling, if you don't have to? One with a cut-out for a hand-held shower is ideal.
Install a hand-held shower. They're also great for rinsing the tub down after scrubbing it, when you're back in action. The one I got turns off at the shower head, so it also saves water. Although, really, forget about showering or bathing the first week, at least on a daily basis. It's not worth the hassles and the risk. You're just sitting in bed anyway; how dirty can you be? Use antiseptic wipes (stock up in advance) on all of the important places as necessary and change your underwear and pajamas daily. You'll feel better, but without the risk of falling.
Buy cast covers for when you do shower. I used the Curad and they work wonderfully. You will need help to get it over the splint, unless you're very flexible. The opening is very narrow, but it will stretch to go over the splint.-
I ordered all of the above from Amazon, by the way. Got a very good price on everything and it was delivered in a few days. Read my reviews at :
http://www.amazon.com/review/R27CCEV3O2P4B6/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B007HCDMJ0&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
http://www.amazon.com/review/RO5X7FZK0LV14/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm
http://www.amazon.com/review/RPAZFPKT48FWY/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B005IV0DAS&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
http://www.amazon.com/review/R1VJY4IJ0J05JG/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B003VMAKVS&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
Plan to spend the first week in or on the bed, going no farther than the bathroom. I say "on" the bed because of the splint. Mine had a foam rubber cover, which caught on bedding. I discovered that the most comfortable method was to strip the bed of all but the bottom sheet, then place the pillows I was elevate my foot in the appropriate place. I used throw as a cover at night and folded it at the foot of the bed during the day. Otherwise, the bedding would bunch up.
Expect to spend at least the first three days sleeping between pain pills -- which you will probably be taking every 4 hours. As the codeine would wear off, my foot felt as if there were a tight band around the base of my toes for several days, then just around my big toe. It felt as if the band were getting tighter and tighter, and also as if there were something thin, hard and sharp between my big toe and the next one. The ball of my foot would swell until it felt as if it would pop. When the splint and bandages were removed, I discovered that the "band" was my skin.
Elastic-waisted pants -- pajama pants, sweats, gym shorts -- are much easier to deal with. Trust me. And since you'll be sleeping so much at first, invest in a few extra pairs of pajamas.
After the first two or three days, the codeine (Lortabs or Vicodin or generic) will make you feel as if you can get right up and resume at least some of your normal activities. It is lying to you, as you will discover the first time you lose your balance and fall. If you're lucky, you'll do what I did and fall onto the couch.
And it will make you constipated. According to everything I read, do not take a laxative without discussing it with your doctor; you have to take the right kind, or it can make the problem worse. Drink a lot of water; increase fiber in your diet (yep, prunes and bran cereal). If it lasts more than 3 of 4 days, call your doctor. It pretty much clears up as soon as you stop taking the codeine every 4 hours.
Naproxen. What can I say? It will make you belch uncontrollably for the first week. Also, well, pass it in the other direction. But you must take it as directed. It is what will take down the swelling. After a while, your body adapts.
For the rest of us, these are things I wish I had known in advance:
If you live alone, you must have someone come to stay with you for the first week, and preferably two, until you are out of the splint and into the walking boot. I could not have managed without my husband -- and I lived alone until I was nearly 50. There are things you cannot do while on crutches, such as carry a cup of coffee or an ice bag, but of greater concern is the danger of falling and no one there to help you get up.
If you don't have a breakfast tray, this is the time to invest in one. It not only holds food -- it holds a laptop computer at just the right height. And even the weight of the laptop will be too much for your leg at first (yes, your entire leg will hurt for a while).
Gel-pacs. At least two. You'll be given an ice bag, but gel stays colder longer. It also takes a while to freeze, so either buy two so you can trade off, or plan to use an ice bag while the gel is freezing. The ones I have came with covers and velcro straps that hold them in place. Cold is your friend. It will take the swelling down as well as numb your foot
Request a walker rather than crutches. Let me be blunt -- I don't care how young you are, unless you have grab bars installed in your bathroom, you need something to hold on to in order to get up off of the toilet. Don't believe me? Try it. Sit down, then try to get up with only one foot on the floor. Unlike the bed, the couch, an armchair, there is nothing to push against. It can be managed with crutches, but why take the risk of falling? Or install a toilet safety rail.
Even better, if you have the funds or can borrow one, a knee-walker increases your mobility and independence many times over. You may need to experiment with using it in some situations. Add a removable bicycle basket and you'll be able to carry that coffee -- in a travel mug.
Place a chair, stool, egg crate, box -- something stable in front of the bathroom sink so that you have some place to rest your knee while brushing your teeth, etc.
Buy a shower seat. Measure your tub or shower to get one that will fit. Your doctor will tell you that you can stand, balanced on your heel, but why risk slipping and falling, if you don't have to? One with a cut-out for a hand-held shower is ideal.
Install a hand-held shower. They're also great for rinsing the tub down after scrubbing it, when you're back in action. The one I got turns off at the shower head, so it also saves water. Although, really, forget about showering or bathing the first week, at least on a daily basis. It's not worth the hassles and the risk. You're just sitting in bed anyway; how dirty can you be? Use antiseptic wipes (stock up in advance) on all of the important places as necessary and change your underwear and pajamas daily. You'll feel better, but without the risk of falling.
Buy cast covers for when you do shower. I used the Curad and they work wonderfully. You will need help to get it over the splint, unless you're very flexible. The opening is very narrow, but it will stretch to go over the splint.-
I ordered all of the above from Amazon, by the way. Got a very good price on everything and it was delivered in a few days. Read my reviews at :
http://www.amazon.com/review/R27CCEV3O2P4B6/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B007HCDMJ0&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
http://www.amazon.com/review/RO5X7FZK0LV14/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm
http://www.amazon.com/review/RPAZFPKT48FWY/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B005IV0DAS&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
http://www.amazon.com/review/R1VJY4IJ0J05JG/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B003VMAKVS&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=
Plan to spend the first week in or on the bed, going no farther than the bathroom. I say "on" the bed because of the splint. Mine had a foam rubber cover, which caught on bedding. I discovered that the most comfortable method was to strip the bed of all but the bottom sheet, then place the pillows I was elevate my foot in the appropriate place. I used throw as a cover at night and folded it at the foot of the bed during the day. Otherwise, the bedding would bunch up.
Expect to spend at least the first three days sleeping between pain pills -- which you will probably be taking every 4 hours. As the codeine would wear off, my foot felt as if there were a tight band around the base of my toes for several days, then just around my big toe. It felt as if the band were getting tighter and tighter, and also as if there were something thin, hard and sharp between my big toe and the next one. The ball of my foot would swell until it felt as if it would pop. When the splint and bandages were removed, I discovered that the "band" was my skin.
Elastic-waisted pants -- pajama pants, sweats, gym shorts -- are much easier to deal with. Trust me. And since you'll be sleeping so much at first, invest in a few extra pairs of pajamas.
After the first two or three days, the codeine (Lortabs or Vicodin or generic) will make you feel as if you can get right up and resume at least some of your normal activities. It is lying to you, as you will discover the first time you lose your balance and fall. If you're lucky, you'll do what I did and fall onto the couch.
And it will make you constipated. According to everything I read, do not take a laxative without discussing it with your doctor; you have to take the right kind, or it can make the problem worse. Drink a lot of water; increase fiber in your diet (yep, prunes and bran cereal). If it lasts more than 3 of 4 days, call your doctor. It pretty much clears up as soon as you stop taking the codeine every 4 hours.
Naproxen. What can I say? It will make you belch uncontrollably for the first week. Also, well, pass it in the other direction. But you must take it as directed. It is what will take down the swelling. After a while, your body adapts.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Out and About in a Boot
I mentioned my two earlier forays in my previous post, but it wasn't until Wednesday that I went out and attempted to get around on my own.
Nothing tells you that you've reached middle age more than young men running to hold doors for you as you propel yourself along on your knee walker, and call you "Ma'am."
The event was our Project Recovery final conference. For those who do not know, our program received a grant three years ago to educate 30 students and place them in libraries that were damaged by hurricanes Katrina and Rita (never preceded by "hurricane" here and frequently referred to simply as "the storm.") The students all received full tuition and full-time students received a stipend. They volunteered 20 hours per week in one of the partner libraries, while part-time students volunteered 10.
I was added to the grant two years ago when Dr. Robert Ward passed away suddenly from cancer; I did not in any way replace him. Because the grant was already underway, my role has been primarily to provide necessary support and advise the students in children's and youth services and some in public or school libraries.
The event included a panel of representatives of the partner libraries, who spoke very highly of the work that our students had done for them, (just between us, in a few cases, I had to admire the speaker's ability to say something positive without lying -- not every student was exemplary), a lunch at the Faculty Club, and brief comments by each of the students.
It was a truly inspiring event. The students who attended were among the most committed and willing, and they had all grown so much over the past two or three years. They reminded me of why I am doing what I am doing.
I am glad that I went, but it wore me out. Not only have I been sedentary for the past two and a half weeks, scooting along with one knee bent is not natural, even when it is resting on a nicely padded support.
And that is why I spent Thursday in bed and didn't even bother to shower or get dressed.
Nothing tells you that you've reached middle age more than young men running to hold doors for you as you propel yourself along on your knee walker, and call you "Ma'am."
The event was our Project Recovery final conference. For those who do not know, our program received a grant three years ago to educate 30 students and place them in libraries that were damaged by hurricanes Katrina and Rita (never preceded by "hurricane" here and frequently referred to simply as "the storm.") The students all received full tuition and full-time students received a stipend. They volunteered 20 hours per week in one of the partner libraries, while part-time students volunteered 10.
I was added to the grant two years ago when Dr. Robert Ward passed away suddenly from cancer; I did not in any way replace him. Because the grant was already underway, my role has been primarily to provide necessary support and advise the students in children's and youth services and some in public or school libraries.
The event included a panel of representatives of the partner libraries, who spoke very highly of the work that our students had done for them, (just between us, in a few cases, I had to admire the speaker's ability to say something positive without lying -- not every student was exemplary), a lunch at the Faculty Club, and brief comments by each of the students.
It was a truly inspiring event. The students who attended were among the most committed and willing, and they had all grown so much over the past two or three years. They reminded me of why I am doing what I am doing.
I am glad that I went, but it wore me out. Not only have I been sedentary for the past two and a half weeks, scooting along with one knee bent is not natural, even when it is resting on a nicely padded support.
And that is why I spent Thursday in bed and didn't even bother to shower or get dressed.
Seven Days in the Boot
We've all seen people walking around in the foam-lined Frankenstein boots that have replaced plaster walking casts for the most part. They are a true modern medical advancement, and I speak from experience. When I had the bone graft in my left ankle lo, these many years ago, I had a cast from my toes to my hip for a month, then a plaster walking cast -- it had a hard rubber bump in the center -- for another month. So, yes, the boot is better, but it isn't perfect.
Everything has become a production. The first step is to put my foot into the boot, wrap the foam liner around it, then secure it firmly but not tightly each of the six straps. Because the boot is designed to keep weight off of my toes, the center of gravity is shifted to my heel, which means that I have to make a conscious effort not to fall over when I stand up. Try it yourself -- keep your weight on your heel, your toes in the air, and stand up. It would make a great party game!
Then it's step-clump-step-clump-step-clump. "It's alive! It's alive!!"
After I learned to walk in it and not fall over, I had to reaccustom myself to being able to move from one place to another while carrying something in my hands! I felt truly liberated. Although, once I've sat down and removed the boot, it's still easier to ask Mike to do me a favor.
Oh, yes, it must be removed."Firm but not tight" becomes "tight!!" when you're not walking around. But, without a doubt, a vast improvement on a splint and crutches.
I've pretty much stopped taking the codeine, although still on naproxen twice daily, and use of ice bags is now more or less limited to evenings, when everyone's feet swell, not just those of us who paid someone to cut it open (think about that -- I not only asked for this, I paid for it! And I'll be doing it again in a few weeks.) I'm still spending days in bed, because my foot still has to be elevated. This room needs new objets d'art.
The day after I got the boot, our neighbors, Mike and Lois, invited us to a benefit for the New Orleans Spina Bifada foundation, north of St. Francisville. Friends of theirs were providing the music and there was food -- what more could a shut-in ask for? I just kept my foot elevated on a chair, and did pretty well, although I did ask Mike for a bag of ice after a couple of hours. Always carry an ice bag with you! I had to dig a little sandwich bag out of my purse, and of course it had a hole in it, which bothered me not at all at that point.
I did find that, while walking was not a problem, standing was. My foot does not swell when I'm walking -- but once I've stopped . . . it does. Well, not foot precisely, but big toe and the space between it and the next toe.
I also got to go shopping this week and drive the motorized cart around Sam's Club. I may save the boot for future use. People are so much more polite, and move their carts out of your way.
And, then, on Monday, it happened. Mike put in a load of washing, and several minutes later, came to tell me that our 6 1/2 year-old Kenmore washer was not working. I blithely assumed that he had simply not pulled out the knob, but,he had -- and it was not agitating. It had filled with water, but would not agitate. It drained. It spun. It filled. It did not agitate. I was agitated, however, very agitated.
He was (and remains) convinced that he had somehow broken it. After I had a screaming fit, I calmed down and realized that he simply could not have -- and if he did, then there was something wrong with the machine beforehand.
Angie's List provided Mark's Maintenance, we called, and Tuesday afternoon he came out. He replaced the agitator dogs in 20 minutes, hooked it back up, started a load --- and it still wasn't agitating. He finally diagnosed it as a stuck clutch brake, which is does not fix as it is as 5-hour job and costs more than a new machine. He did not charge us for the work, as he could not fix it. His business card is next to our phone now.
So, after a crying jag and debating whether to just use a laundromat for the next 6 months, I went online and ordered a new Samsung from Lowe's. There goes my range, again. It was delivered on Wednesday evening, and we spent all day Thursday catching up on nearly 3 weeks worth of laundry -- with a few loads left for today.
It's HE, it's Energy Star, it's sleek and modern and chimes when it's finished. It does bedding (shall I tell Mike that, according to what I've been reading, doing bedding in a direct-drive machine, such as a Kenmore or Whirlpool, can lead to clutch brake damage?) and has a "no spin" option, for handwash items. It has an Eco-warm setting -- I think most of us would call that "tepid" -- which balances temperature and wash time. And a 10 year warranty. So maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get a new range in another year.
Everything has become a production. The first step is to put my foot into the boot, wrap the foam liner around it, then secure it firmly but not tightly each of the six straps. Because the boot is designed to keep weight off of my toes, the center of gravity is shifted to my heel, which means that I have to make a conscious effort not to fall over when I stand up. Try it yourself -- keep your weight on your heel, your toes in the air, and stand up. It would make a great party game!
Then it's step-clump-step-clump-step-clump. "It's alive! It's alive!!"
After I learned to walk in it and not fall over, I had to reaccustom myself to being able to move from one place to another while carrying something in my hands! I felt truly liberated. Although, once I've sat down and removed the boot, it's still easier to ask Mike to do me a favor.
Oh, yes, it must be removed."Firm but not tight" becomes "tight!!" when you're not walking around. But, without a doubt, a vast improvement on a splint and crutches.
I've pretty much stopped taking the codeine, although still on naproxen twice daily, and use of ice bags is now more or less limited to evenings, when everyone's feet swell, not just those of us who paid someone to cut it open (think about that -- I not only asked for this, I paid for it! And I'll be doing it again in a few weeks.) I'm still spending days in bed, because my foot still has to be elevated. This room needs new objets d'art.
The day after I got the boot, our neighbors, Mike and Lois, invited us to a benefit for the New Orleans Spina Bifada foundation, north of St. Francisville. Friends of theirs were providing the music and there was food -- what more could a shut-in ask for? I just kept my foot elevated on a chair, and did pretty well, although I did ask Mike for a bag of ice after a couple of hours. Always carry an ice bag with you! I had to dig a little sandwich bag out of my purse, and of course it had a hole in it, which bothered me not at all at that point.
I did find that, while walking was not a problem, standing was. My foot does not swell when I'm walking -- but once I've stopped . . . it does. Well, not foot precisely, but big toe and the space between it and the next toe.
I also got to go shopping this week and drive the motorized cart around Sam's Club. I may save the boot for future use. People are so much more polite, and move their carts out of your way.
And, then, on Monday, it happened. Mike put in a load of washing, and several minutes later, came to tell me that our 6 1/2 year-old Kenmore washer was not working. I blithely assumed that he had simply not pulled out the knob, but,he had -- and it was not agitating. It had filled with water, but would not agitate. It drained. It spun. It filled. It did not agitate. I was agitated, however, very agitated.
He was (and remains) convinced that he had somehow broken it. After I had a screaming fit, I calmed down and realized that he simply could not have -- and if he did, then there was something wrong with the machine beforehand.
Angie's List provided Mark's Maintenance, we called, and Tuesday afternoon he came out. He replaced the agitator dogs in 20 minutes, hooked it back up, started a load --- and it still wasn't agitating. He finally diagnosed it as a stuck clutch brake, which is does not fix as it is as 5-hour job and costs more than a new machine. He did not charge us for the work, as he could not fix it. His business card is next to our phone now.
So, after a crying jag and debating whether to just use a laundromat for the next 6 months, I went online and ordered a new Samsung from Lowe's. There goes my range, again. It was delivered on Wednesday evening, and we spent all day Thursday catching up on nearly 3 weeks worth of laundry -- with a few loads left for today.
It's HE, it's Energy Star, it's sleek and modern and chimes when it's finished. It does bedding (shall I tell Mike that, according to what I've been reading, doing bedding in a direct-drive machine, such as a Kenmore or Whirlpool, can lead to clutch brake damage?) and has a "no spin" option, for handwash items. It has an Eco-warm setting -- I think most of us would call that "tepid" -- which balances temperature and wash time. And a 10 year warranty. So maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get a new range in another year.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Bunionectomies and other indignities of middle age
When even the "roomy, square-toed" clogs become too tight, it's time to bow to the inevitable and go under the knife. First, though, came the custom orthotics (which, even though medically necessary to prevent further damage to feet and knees, are not covered by insurance) and three weeks of night splints
("Yes, I am Iron Man") on both feet to stretch tight calves, achilles' tendons, and arches. Then a pre-op clearance from my primary care -- EKG, blood work, etc. Finally, last Friday morning I was picked up at 6:00 by my friend and colleague, Boryung Ju, and taken to the Lake Surgical Center for surgery at 7:30. Forms were filled out and I was taken back to the prep room, given a gown to change into, and tucked into bed. There was a brief moment on panic when I revealed that I had drunk a glass of water a few hours earlier. Yes, they had told me not to drink anything after midnight, and no, I don't really have any excuse, except to say that I confused those instructions with the ones given the week before which were "nothing except water after midnight." The anaesthetist finally decided that I wouldn't vomit and choke to death, and we went ahead. The IV was inserted in the back of my hand, Dr. Le made a brief visit in his surgical scrubs to explain the procedure again and give post-op instructions (which I do remember, despite the anaesthetist saying that her magic medicine would erase my short-term memory), I was wheeled into the operating room, shifted to the operating table, felt something cold and wet, and . . .
I was telling Dr. Le that I would not accept his late paper. Struggling to wake up and stay awake. Opened my eyes long enough to see Mike's face hovering over me, Boryung behind him. It was something like 9:30. Dr. Le must have this down to both an art and a science.
I sat up, and discovered that someone had mummified my leg while I was asleep
Wiggled my way into my clothes, slid into the wheelchair, wheeled out to Boryung's car, arrived home, hobbled my way to the bed, and back to sleep. The entire weekend is a blur of sleeping, waking to take meds, and food brought on trays.
The medications -- naproxen twice a day, a codeine prescription as needed -- made the pain almost bearable, once the local anesthetic wore off, but my poor husband was sent back and forth for ice frequently. For those who are interested, it felt as if someone had tied a rubber band across the base of my toes and was tightening it steadily. It also felt as if there were something thin and sharp between my big toe and the next toe, that was cutting into my foot. And my foot was hot -- both from the swelling and from the bandage.
Mike was off through Monday, so it wasn't until Tuesday that I had to try to manage for myself. Mike left a bowl of cereal and a small jug of milk for me on the kitchen table, and left my lunch in the bedroom on the bookcase, so I managed.
However, feeding the cats dinner was another issue. I had to emulate Ma Kettle by kneeling my left leg on a chair and clunking around the kitchen -- but feed them I did.
Personal hygiene consisted of wipe-downs with antibacterial wipes -- actually most effective, if done daily -- and a change of clothes. I quickly discovered that elastic-waisted shorts were the most practical, so my gym clothes were pressed into service, as were my sports bras. No one tells you that the underwires in your bra will catch on the padded cover on your crutches and threaten to send you over.
I now understand the purpose of grab bars in the bathroom, and will be having our retrofitted as soon as we can get the money together. And next time, I want a walker, if only for something to hold onto while I try to stand up using only one foot.
Despite Mike's protests, I insisted on getting up every day and sitting in the recliner in the living room, laptop on my lap, tray table at my side. I refused to act like an invalid. Just getting down the hall and onto the couch using the crutches left me breathless and puffing, but I was not giving in.
By Wednesday, my hair was beyond filthy, so I knelt on a chair in front of the kitchen sink (are you sensing a theme here? Chairs are useful things) while Mike used the kitchen sprayer to help me wash it. I had already sent an order in to Amazon for a shower seat, a hand-held shower and some cast covers, but could not wait another day, as LaToya was bringing some forms for me to sign later that day and I do have an image to maintain.
Got an e-mail that morning that some packages had arrived at the office from Amazon -- what??? I had specifically selected my home address. It turns out that, if you have 1-click ordering turned on (I do not remember doing that, but possibly), then regardless of which address you select, anything coming from the marketplace goes to your 1-click address. It was too late to catch LaToya, but Tao was willing to bring them over on his way home from work.
So, Thursday I finally had a shower for the first time in 6 days -- sat on the bench, leaned forward to turn on the water -- a white paw pushed the shower curtain aside, and a big, furry black and white thing darted under my legs and the bench, and between the shower curtain liner and the side of the tub.
After I stopped laughing, I called Mike to come and get Miller out of the tub. It took some doing.
Our neighbor came over later in the day and installed the hand-held shower, which makes it all even easier. Not only can I do my back without standing up and turning around, I can turn the water off at the shower head.
I also ordered a knee-walker and a bicycle basket for it on Wednesday which arrived on Friday.
After reading the instructions carefully, I promptly proceeded to crash my new bike. It was entirely my fault -- I had set the brakes, put some things in the basket, then pushed off, without releasing the brakes. I fell on my left side, bruising and scraping my right shin (also right shoulder and right forearm, which I did not discover for several days). I called the doctor's office, but the nurse did not seem terribly worried. I wasn't in much pain, particularly, so she suggested that I wait and go to Urgent Care later, if necessary.
At 10:00 that night, the codeine was not working, a demon was tightening a red-hot iron band around the base of my big toe, and I was getting more and more worried, so I sent Mike over to the neighbor's. He drove us to Urgent Care, where they x-rayed my foot and pronounced it undamaged. The doctor did cut the gauze away from my toes, to see if they were turning purple -- they were not, but oh the relief to get some air to them! -- and gave me a stronger codeine prescription. I can say now that the bandages are off that I had bruised that foot in several places, which was causing the pain.
So, yes, I recommend the knee walker -- and I second the instructions to be aware and go slowly.
I spent the second week in bed, getting up only in the evening for dinner and a bit of television. Oh, I showered and dressed, and sat on top of the bed, but on the bed I stayed. And, you know what? It really makes a difference. My foot is propped on a couple of pillows, but my knee has the support it needs. I'm not exhausting myself going back and forth every hour or so; I have the laptop on the breakfast tray, not resting on my lap. In other words, my husband was right.
So, last Friday, the bandages came off and I was given a walking boot. My foot is not nearly as swollen as I expected -- or as it felt! The "band" around my big toe is actually . . . skin. The screws are in place and everything is healing as expected.
You can see the famous chair -- and the bruises on my right leg. The blue wrapping was temporary, but I do have it in an ace bandage most of the time.
I still spend most of my Day on the bed, with my feet elevated, because it's just plain more comfortable. Mike picked up a couple of different types of ice bags, and one or the other is usually on my foot. I've only take codeine a couple of nights in the past week, and never in the day -- the ice is all that's needed.
I had to learn to balance myself again -- I actually needed the crutches to walk out of the doctor's office in the boot! And I admit to being scared at first to put any weight at all on that foot. More on life in a boot next.
I was telling Dr. Le that I would not accept his late paper. Struggling to wake up and stay awake. Opened my eyes long enough to see Mike's face hovering over me, Boryung behind him. It was something like 9:30. Dr. Le must have this down to both an art and a science.
I sat up, and discovered that someone had mummified my leg while I was asleep
The medications -- naproxen twice a day, a codeine prescription as needed -- made the pain almost bearable, once the local anesthetic wore off, but my poor husband was sent back and forth for ice frequently. For those who are interested, it felt as if someone had tied a rubber band across the base of my toes and was tightening it steadily. It also felt as if there were something thin and sharp between my big toe and the next toe, that was cutting into my foot. And my foot was hot -- both from the swelling and from the bandage.
Mike was off through Monday, so it wasn't until Tuesday that I had to try to manage for myself. Mike left a bowl of cereal and a small jug of milk for me on the kitchen table, and left my lunch in the bedroom on the bookcase, so I managed.
However, feeding the cats dinner was another issue. I had to emulate Ma Kettle by kneeling my left leg on a chair and clunking around the kitchen -- but feed them I did.
Personal hygiene consisted of wipe-downs with antibacterial wipes -- actually most effective, if done daily -- and a change of clothes. I quickly discovered that elastic-waisted shorts were the most practical, so my gym clothes were pressed into service, as were my sports bras. No one tells you that the underwires in your bra will catch on the padded cover on your crutches and threaten to send you over.
I now understand the purpose of grab bars in the bathroom, and will be having our retrofitted as soon as we can get the money together. And next time, I want a walker, if only for something to hold onto while I try to stand up using only one foot.
Despite Mike's protests, I insisted on getting up every day and sitting in the recliner in the living room, laptop on my lap, tray table at my side. I refused to act like an invalid. Just getting down the hall and onto the couch using the crutches left me breathless and puffing, but I was not giving in.
By Wednesday, my hair was beyond filthy, so I knelt on a chair in front of the kitchen sink (are you sensing a theme here? Chairs are useful things) while Mike used the kitchen sprayer to help me wash it. I had already sent an order in to Amazon for a shower seat, a hand-held shower and some cast covers, but could not wait another day, as LaToya was bringing some forms for me to sign later that day and I do have an image to maintain.
Got an e-mail that morning that some packages had arrived at the office from Amazon -- what??? I had specifically selected my home address. It turns out that, if you have 1-click ordering turned on (I do not remember doing that, but possibly), then regardless of which address you select, anything coming from the marketplace goes to your 1-click address. It was too late to catch LaToya, but Tao was willing to bring them over on his way home from work.
So, Thursday I finally had a shower for the first time in 6 days -- sat on the bench, leaned forward to turn on the water -- a white paw pushed the shower curtain aside, and a big, furry black and white thing darted under my legs and the bench, and between the shower curtain liner and the side of the tub.
After I stopped laughing, I called Mike to come and get Miller out of the tub. It took some doing.
Our neighbor came over later in the day and installed the hand-held shower, which makes it all even easier. Not only can I do my back without standing up and turning around, I can turn the water off at the shower head.
I also ordered a knee-walker and a bicycle basket for it on Wednesday which arrived on Friday.
After reading the instructions carefully, I promptly proceeded to crash my new bike. It was entirely my fault -- I had set the brakes, put some things in the basket, then pushed off, without releasing the brakes. I fell on my left side, bruising and scraping my right shin (also right shoulder and right forearm, which I did not discover for several days). I called the doctor's office, but the nurse did not seem terribly worried. I wasn't in much pain, particularly, so she suggested that I wait and go to Urgent Care later, if necessary.
At 10:00 that night, the codeine was not working, a demon was tightening a red-hot iron band around the base of my big toe, and I was getting more and more worried, so I sent Mike over to the neighbor's. He drove us to Urgent Care, where they x-rayed my foot and pronounced it undamaged. The doctor did cut the gauze away from my toes, to see if they were turning purple -- they were not, but oh the relief to get some air to them! -- and gave me a stronger codeine prescription. I can say now that the bandages are off that I had bruised that foot in several places, which was causing the pain.
So, yes, I recommend the knee walker -- and I second the instructions to be aware and go slowly.
I spent the second week in bed, getting up only in the evening for dinner and a bit of television. Oh, I showered and dressed, and sat on top of the bed, but on the bed I stayed. And, you know what? It really makes a difference. My foot is propped on a couple of pillows, but my knee has the support it needs. I'm not exhausting myself going back and forth every hour or so; I have the laptop on the breakfast tray, not resting on my lap. In other words, my husband was right.
So, last Friday, the bandages came off and I was given a walking boot. My foot is not nearly as swollen as I expected -- or as it felt! The "band" around my big toe is actually . . . skin. The screws are in place and everything is healing as expected.
I still spend most of my Day on the bed, with my feet elevated, because it's just plain more comfortable. Mike picked up a couple of different types of ice bags, and one or the other is usually on my foot. I've only take codeine a couple of nights in the past week, and never in the day -- the ice is all that's needed.
I had to learn to balance myself again -- I actually needed the crutches to walk out of the doctor's office in the boot! And I admit to being scared at first to put any weight at all on that foot. More on life in a boot next.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Reporting from "The Chamber"
For those who do not know, Baton Rouge is the site of the Pennington Biomedical Research Center, which conducts research into the causes of and cures for obesity. It is no coincidence that it's located in Louisiana, which vies with Mississippi for the coveted prize of "most obese population." Our relationship with PBRC, as we fondly call it, began a few years ago when Mike participated in a study to determine whether capsacin (the "hot" in hot peppers) could increase metabolism. He made a cool $400 for popping capsacin capsules 3 times a day over 8 weeks or so -- and a career was born! My husband, the lab rat. The next year, he earned $4500, which paid for the new windows. In January, he completed the E-Mechanic study, which only paid a measly $550 for 6 months, but provided 6 months of PBRC Fitness Center use (more on that in a minute). While he was doing that, I joined the family business and took part in the Sweet 2 study last summer, a study into the efficacy of an experimental medication for reducing appetite. It paid $400, which bought the curio cabinet which now displays my collection of open salts (and a few more open salts to go in it). That study only involved 3 visits, which lasted 14 hours each, but required than an IV line be left in place for the entire time each day, so that blood could be drawn about 15 times throughout the day. The first day, the lab tech was unable to find a vein -- no surprise there; they never are. The nurse finally managed to thread it in my right wrist, but it came out after lunch. Luckily for me, the new nurse who had come on duty really knew her stuff and had it in on the first try. I did finish the study, but was advised not to volunteer for any others that require the IV line. Oh, darn.
I then waited rather impatiently for Mike to finish E-Mechanic. The study will not permit two members of the same household to be in the study at the same time. The purpose of the study is to determine whether exercise raises the metabolism over the long term. Participants are assigned to one of three groups -- "Healthy Living," which involves monthly seminars and weekly e-mail tips on --you got it -- "healthy living," but no exercise; Recommended Dose, which is 3-4 times/week for 30-40 minutes a time; High Dose which is a jaw-dropping 5 times a week for 60-75 minutes each. Screening takes 6 weeks and involves numerous visits to the Clinic for blood tests, urine tests (they are very big on urine tests; one test involves drinking double-labeled water in the morning, then collecting 3 or 4 samples throughout the day ), an EKG, DXA scans (to determine body composition), a general physical exam (which is where the basal cell carcinoma in my outer ear was discovered, but that is a subject for another post), a "maximal treadmill exercise test" (to determine 'exercise prescription') and a food intake test. I had to wear an "accelerometer" -- which, despite its name, is not a form of jet pack -- for one week at the beginning, then again for the last two weeks of screening and record my weight over those weeks, as well. All to determine two things -- was I too physically active for the study? I should think that just looking at me would answer that. And what are my baseline metabolic numbers? The food intake test is not nearly as much fun as it sounds. Breakfast that day is 2 Nature Valley Oat and Honey Granola Bars; lunch is "all you want" in 30 minutes of cold turkey sandwiches with a slice of limp lettuce and anemic tomato on white sandwich rolls, potato chips and "chocolate" chip cookies -- I know chemical "chocolate fllavor" when I taste it! ; dinner is "all you want" in 30 minutes of a selection of primarily junk food with relatively healthy alternatives -- nacho cheese, ranch dressing, Fritos, cubed swiss and cheddar cheese, chicken nuggets, mixed nuts, M&Ms, popcorn, baked potato chips, baked tortilla chips, salsa, cubed grilled chicken, carrots, pretzels, raisins, bar-b-que sauce, honey sauce, water and some unnaturally pink drink. I realized later that I should have pigged out on the bad stuff this time, and then eaten the "good" stuff the next time. Even trying to eat the better options left me feeling somewhat bloated and unsatisfied. And, of course, I could have polished off quite a bit more if they'd given me all afternoon.
So, anyway, I passed all of the tests -- meaning I'm in moderately bad shape -- and was "randomized" last Thursday. Now, the staff in the clinic are not allowed to know which group we're in -- it's a blind study -- so don't anyone tell them, and, Angela, if you're reading this, close your eyes! A member of the fitness center staff met with me behind closed doors and opened the envelope -- and I'm in the Recommended Dose group! But she didn't let me thank the Academy or any of the little people who made it all possible.
As soon as possible after randomization -- ideally the next day, but I had a work conflict -- we spend a full 24 hours in the metabolic chamber. It will give them the absolute best measurement of metabolic rate. So, I was up and out at 6:30 this morning -- no breakfast, no caffeine or alcohol for the previous 24 hours -- and closed in here at 7:45. I will be released tomorrow at 8:45 by the clock, thanks to daylight savings time. I was instructed to "rest" -- but not sleep! Never sleep! Not until lights out tonight at 22:30 -- on the bed for an hour, so that they could get a good "baseline" and then I would be fed. So, I finished "The Scarlett Pimpernel" and waited for breakfast.
I feel as if I'm in the brig on the Millennium Falcon. The room is about 10 x 12 and completely sealed. The door is airtight, but can be opened for inside by leaning on it and pushing, so I must remember not to lean on it and push. It does have 2 windows, one of which provides a scenic view of the Pennington Conference Center and the other of -- well, I'm not sure what it is. It's some kind of external alcove, divided lengthwise by a glass or plexiglass wall. Each section has a wooden stand that looks like a bench standing on end, with some kind of electronic monitor on it. I can only see the back, so I can't tell what they are monitoring. Temperature? Humidity? Radiation? Empire communications?
There is a sink and toilet in one corner, by the door, with a curtain that can be drawn for privacy -- did I mention that the room is monitored by closed-circuit? It is -- and all urine must be collected in the provided urine jug, then stored in the refrigerator; there's a note on the door "Make sure to empty your bladder before exiting the chamber" -- I told you they are big on urine here. Next to the bed is a wall-mounted shelf with the aforementioned mini-fridge below. Across from that, in the corner on the other side of the door, is a wall-mounted desk with telephone and laptop computer (which I have unplugged and am using on my lap, as God and Steve Jobs intended). The hatch through which I receive my meals (such as they are) is directly above the desk. It is not a nice, modern, cheery plexiglass affair, but instead in an anodized aluminum box with heavy metal latches. I wait for the sound of the latches being released from the other side, and bound across the bed, salivating as I listen for the clunk of the tray and then the latches being closed again. Finally I can open the hatch on my side!
And what delicacies awaited me at 9:00 this morning, after fasting since 7:00 last night? Why -- a Lenders bagel with cream cheese, half a cup of orange juice, one cup of milk, and half a cup of mixed canned tropical fruit! I felt like calling the nurses on the phone and saying, "I've eaten the snack you sent me. Now, where's breakfast?"
Lunch will be served at 13:30. They've given me a menu, but I don't want to spoil the anticipation and the surprise by reading it in advance.
I then waited rather impatiently for Mike to finish E-Mechanic. The study will not permit two members of the same household to be in the study at the same time. The purpose of the study is to determine whether exercise raises the metabolism over the long term. Participants are assigned to one of three groups -- "Healthy Living," which involves monthly seminars and weekly e-mail tips on --you got it -- "healthy living," but no exercise; Recommended Dose, which is 3-4 times/week for 30-40 minutes a time; High Dose which is a jaw-dropping 5 times a week for 60-75 minutes each. Screening takes 6 weeks and involves numerous visits to the Clinic for blood tests, urine tests (they are very big on urine tests; one test involves drinking double-labeled water in the morning, then collecting 3 or 4 samples throughout the day ), an EKG, DXA scans (to determine body composition), a general physical exam (which is where the basal cell carcinoma in my outer ear was discovered, but that is a subject for another post), a "maximal treadmill exercise test" (to determine 'exercise prescription') and a food intake test. I had to wear an "accelerometer" -- which, despite its name, is not a form of jet pack -- for one week at the beginning, then again for the last two weeks of screening and record my weight over those weeks, as well. All to determine two things -- was I too physically active for the study? I should think that just looking at me would answer that. And what are my baseline metabolic numbers? The food intake test is not nearly as much fun as it sounds. Breakfast that day is 2 Nature Valley Oat and Honey Granola Bars; lunch is "all you want" in 30 minutes of cold turkey sandwiches with a slice of limp lettuce and anemic tomato on white sandwich rolls, potato chips and "chocolate" chip cookies -- I know chemical "chocolate fllavor" when I taste it! ; dinner is "all you want" in 30 minutes of a selection of primarily junk food with relatively healthy alternatives -- nacho cheese, ranch dressing, Fritos, cubed swiss and cheddar cheese, chicken nuggets, mixed nuts, M&Ms, popcorn, baked potato chips, baked tortilla chips, salsa, cubed grilled chicken, carrots, pretzels, raisins, bar-b-que sauce, honey sauce, water and some unnaturally pink drink. I realized later that I should have pigged out on the bad stuff this time, and then eaten the "good" stuff the next time. Even trying to eat the better options left me feeling somewhat bloated and unsatisfied. And, of course, I could have polished off quite a bit more if they'd given me all afternoon.
So, anyway, I passed all of the tests -- meaning I'm in moderately bad shape -- and was "randomized" last Thursday. Now, the staff in the clinic are not allowed to know which group we're in -- it's a blind study -- so don't anyone tell them, and, Angela, if you're reading this, close your eyes! A member of the fitness center staff met with me behind closed doors and opened the envelope -- and I'm in the Recommended Dose group! But she didn't let me thank the Academy or any of the little people who made it all possible.
As soon as possible after randomization -- ideally the next day, but I had a work conflict -- we spend a full 24 hours in the metabolic chamber. It will give them the absolute best measurement of metabolic rate. So, I was up and out at 6:30 this morning -- no breakfast, no caffeine or alcohol for the previous 24 hours -- and closed in here at 7:45. I will be released tomorrow at 8:45 by the clock, thanks to daylight savings time. I was instructed to "rest" -- but not sleep! Never sleep! Not until lights out tonight at 22:30 -- on the bed for an hour, so that they could get a good "baseline" and then I would be fed. So, I finished "The Scarlett Pimpernel" and waited for breakfast.
I feel as if I'm in the brig on the Millennium Falcon. The room is about 10 x 12 and completely sealed. The door is airtight, but can be opened for inside by leaning on it and pushing, so I must remember not to lean on it and push. It does have 2 windows, one of which provides a scenic view of the Pennington Conference Center and the other of -- well, I'm not sure what it is. It's some kind of external alcove, divided lengthwise by a glass or plexiglass wall. Each section has a wooden stand that looks like a bench standing on end, with some kind of electronic monitor on it. I can only see the back, so I can't tell what they are monitoring. Temperature? Humidity? Radiation? Empire communications?
There is a sink and toilet in one corner, by the door, with a curtain that can be drawn for privacy -- did I mention that the room is monitored by closed-circuit? It is -- and all urine must be collected in the provided urine jug, then stored in the refrigerator; there's a note on the door "Make sure to empty your bladder before exiting the chamber" -- I told you they are big on urine here. Next to the bed is a wall-mounted shelf with the aforementioned mini-fridge below. Across from that, in the corner on the other side of the door, is a wall-mounted desk with telephone and laptop computer (which I have unplugged and am using on my lap, as God and Steve Jobs intended). The hatch through which I receive my meals (such as they are) is directly above the desk. It is not a nice, modern, cheery plexiglass affair, but instead in an anodized aluminum box with heavy metal latches. I wait for the sound of the latches being released from the other side, and bound across the bed, salivating as I listen for the clunk of the tray and then the latches being closed again. Finally I can open the hatch on my side!
And what delicacies awaited me at 9:00 this morning, after fasting since 7:00 last night? Why -- a Lenders bagel with cream cheese, half a cup of orange juice, one cup of milk, and half a cup of mixed canned tropical fruit! I felt like calling the nurses on the phone and saying, "I've eaten the snack you sent me. Now, where's breakfast?"
Lunch will be served at 13:30. They've given me a menu, but I don't want to spoil the anticipation and the surprise by reading it in advance.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Flying Transient Global Amnesia
We'd both been looking forward to this past weekend, because Mike had both Saturday and Sunday off. The plan was to spend Saturday morning working in the yard, then go antiquing on Government Street. I got up with the cats at 4:30 and let Mike sleep in until about 7:00 or so. He got up and made coffee, and went out for the paper. He reported that the temperature was quite low, and that we probably wouldn't be doing yard work. I agreed.
I shall draw a veil over the next hour or so; let's just say that we did the sort of thing that married people do on a Saturday morning when they have no demands on their time. I didn't think much about it when he said he felt "disoriented" and asked how things went (as it were). I thought he was asking for a little ego stroking.
I showered and dressed and went out to fix breakfast. He was on Facebook or something, and said he wanted something "eggy" for breakfast. Settled on poached eggs on toast. While I was cooking, the cats came tearing through the flap and dashed down the hall. I looked out to see our neighbor, Mike Hemphill, going out his back gate and walking behind our fence to our neighbor on the other side, Mike Poccarello -- and yes, they are all named Mike.
Mike came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I mentioned the cats' behavior, and he seemed surprised to hear that Mike H. was back, even though he had told me that the day before. He watched me with the eggs for a minute or two, then saw Mike H. head back home. Next thing I knew, he'd gone out to talk to Mike, with breakfast almost on the table. Now I realize that he'd forgotten all about breakfast, but at the time, I was irritated and decided I'd eat mine hot alone if I had to. We later confirmed that he had, indeed, gone next door in his underwear and bare feet.
He showed back up just as I was sitting down to eat, and seemed pleasantly surprised to find breakfast ready. We ate and talked about what we would do with the day. He repeated that it was too cold to work in the yard. He asked me when he was working again. I told him Monday. He looked at the calendar and said, "No, I'm working tomorrow." "No, that was last week. Today in the 11th." "Oh. I'm not working again until Monday." "Right." A minute or two later, he got up and stood in front of the calendar. "What are you doing?" "Checking to see when I'm working again." SIGH! Men never listen!!
I told him to take a shower and get dressed. He asked what we were doing. I told him that we hadn't decided, and that we would decide after he'd taken a shower and dressed. He pulled the neck of his t-shirt up around his head and paraded around the kitchen in his "new hoodie." I laughed, and then told him again to go take a shower. He went down to his bathroom, then came back and said, "Look at my new hoodie." I laughed, less loudly, and said he was funny, now go take a shower. He asked what we were doing that day. I told him we would decide after he'd taken a shower and got dressed. He wandered out of the kitchen, toward his bathroom. I continued to read the paper. He came back in, still with the t-shirt over his head, and said, "Look at me." I ignored him. He repeated, "Look at me. . . You're not looking at me and I'm doing something funny." I told him that I had looked at him, and it was time to to cut it out with the silly game . He asked "What game?" We went back and forth, with me getting more irritated by the minute and him insisting that he did not know what I was talking about. I threatened to go to my office if he didn't stop.
He finally got in the shower. When he got out, he dried off and pulled on his socks and underwear, and we discussed what we would do and decided to go for a tour of the YMCA. He called and asked if we needed an appointment, which we did not. I told him to get dressed so could go. He said, "Don't you think I should take a shower first? ", stripped, and headed for the shower. I shouted, "You already took one!" He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes. I'm sure. This is not funny." "What isn't?" Rolled eyes.
Finally headed over to the YMCA and spent a good 30-45 minutes touring the facility and getting information, then came back home. We decided to play a game of Scrabble on his Kindle Fire, then have lunch and decide what else to do. From my point of view, he pretended not to know how to use his Kindle. He asked again whether he was working that day. He kept saying that "These aren't very good letters" and then making 3 or 4 letter words. After 3 or 4 turns, he asked, "Aren't we going to do anything at all today?" I said, "You mean besides going to the YMCA?" He said, "Did we go to the YMCA? I don't remember."
"Get your shoes on. We're going." "Where?" "To Urgent Care." I suppose I should have taken him to the Emergency Room, but -- I don't know. I didn't really know what to do, and Urgent Care is just around the corner. I knew that, if he was playing some really annoying game, he wouldn't carry it that far.
We got to Urgent Care (which, coincidentally, is in YMCA Plaza, where we'd been just an hour before) and I told them that he couldn't remember anything that had happened that morning. They took him back immediately, and a physician's assistant and later the urgent care doctor both tested him for stroke symptoms. He had none, except that his blood pressure was around 183. They told me to take him to the Emergency Room, where he could be seen by a neurologist and have a CT scan. By now he was frightened. He kept saying, every 3 or 4 minutes, "I didn't expect to be here today."
We drove over to Our Lady of the Lake Emergency Room. I gave them the referral and they took him right back to an exam room. His b.p. was about 177. First the emergency room doctor (I think he was probably 15 years old) performed the same tests as the urgent care doctor, and asked me for details. Mike knew his name, where he was, and what day it was, but not the date or year. At some point, they brought in a mobile x-ray machine for a chest x-ray. And, of course, did the usual blood and urine samples. They took him for the CT scan, then we had to wait for the radiologist. The scan was normal, but they were going to admit him for observation over night -- partly because they still had no idea what was wrong with him, other than that it wasn't a stroke or TIA.
So then the hospitalist came, a slightly older teenager. She performed the same tests and, again, asked me for details. Mike told her, "We went for a tour of the . . . (looks at me, "YMCA") YMCA this morning. I have absolutely no memory of that. " 5 minutes later, he told her again. She asked, "Do you remember telling me that before?" He did not.
She left to call the neurologist, then returned to say that he said it sounded like "transient global amnesia." Mike told her about going to the YMCA. She asked if he remembered telling her before, which he didn't. She left to take care of the admittance papers. Of course, various technicians, nurses, and admitting personnel were coming and going the entire time, as well as other patients.
The neurologist arrived maybe 30 minutes later. He asked Mike what happened, and he told him about the YMCA. I provided additional details. He then performed various tests and definitively diagnosed "transient global amnesia." He explained that he saw about one case every month or so ; that it clears up within 24 hours and that it is unlikely to recur. However they would do an MRI just to be safe, but that Mike was already doing better. Mike said, "Yes." I said, "No. He just doesn't realize it." Mike then told him about the YMCA again. The doctor and I looked at each other. "He doesn't remember what he doesn't remember."
During the four hours we were waiting, our conversation was, "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." "No, I didn't either." Lowered voice, "I think I might have had a mini-stroke." "Maybe. Let's wait and see what the doctors say." "So, do you think I'm going into hospital?" "Yes, they said they'll be admitting you." "Oh. I don't want to go to hospital. . . Will you bring me a care package?" "Yes." "I'll need my Kindle. And the charger. And the headphones. And a change of underpants. And some pajamas. And some socks." "Ok." Silence for 3 or 4 minutes. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." etc. After the neurologist gave his diagnosis, it also included, "Thank you for flying Transient Global Amnesia, the airline that . . . er . . . uh."
Finally, around 6:00, someone came to take him down for the MRI. From there, he would be admitted, so I gathered his stuff and went with him. We passed the cafeteria on our way to the lab. After they left us in the waiting area, he told me I should go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I did a little happy dance, because clearly his memory was returning. I think it was the aroma of french fries that brought him around.
After the MRI, we were taken up to his room on the 4th floor. He was surprised to be given a private room, and agreed that there was no need for a care package. Not only was it already almost 7:30, he would be able to watch whatever he wanted on t.v.
He was released the next morning, almost reluctantly. It's not often that he gets to lie around in bed, watch television, and ordering his meals from room service. He's also asked if there's any way we can buy a set of the leg massagers they used overnight to prevent blood clots.
It was indeed, as Bette Davis promised, a bumpy ride, but we have landed safely and all is back to normal -- meaning he forgets things, but remembers that he's forgotten, and doesn't listen to me, but knows it.
I shall draw a veil over the next hour or so; let's just say that we did the sort of thing that married people do on a Saturday morning when they have no demands on their time. I didn't think much about it when he said he felt "disoriented" and asked how things went (as it were). I thought he was asking for a little ego stroking.
I showered and dressed and went out to fix breakfast. He was on Facebook or something, and said he wanted something "eggy" for breakfast. Settled on poached eggs on toast. While I was cooking, the cats came tearing through the flap and dashed down the hall. I looked out to see our neighbor, Mike Hemphill, going out his back gate and walking behind our fence to our neighbor on the other side, Mike Poccarello -- and yes, they are all named Mike.
Mike came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. I mentioned the cats' behavior, and he seemed surprised to hear that Mike H. was back, even though he had told me that the day before. He watched me with the eggs for a minute or two, then saw Mike H. head back home. Next thing I knew, he'd gone out to talk to Mike, with breakfast almost on the table. Now I realize that he'd forgotten all about breakfast, but at the time, I was irritated and decided I'd eat mine hot alone if I had to. We later confirmed that he had, indeed, gone next door in his underwear and bare feet.
He showed back up just as I was sitting down to eat, and seemed pleasantly surprised to find breakfast ready. We ate and talked about what we would do with the day. He repeated that it was too cold to work in the yard. He asked me when he was working again. I told him Monday. He looked at the calendar and said, "No, I'm working tomorrow." "No, that was last week. Today in the 11th." "Oh. I'm not working again until Monday." "Right." A minute or two later, he got up and stood in front of the calendar. "What are you doing?" "Checking to see when I'm working again." SIGH! Men never listen!!
I told him to take a shower and get dressed. He asked what we were doing. I told him that we hadn't decided, and that we would decide after he'd taken a shower and dressed. He pulled the neck of his t-shirt up around his head and paraded around the kitchen in his "new hoodie." I laughed, and then told him again to go take a shower. He went down to his bathroom, then came back and said, "Look at my new hoodie." I laughed, less loudly, and said he was funny, now go take a shower. He asked what we were doing that day. I told him we would decide after he'd taken a shower and got dressed. He wandered out of the kitchen, toward his bathroom. I continued to read the paper. He came back in, still with the t-shirt over his head, and said, "Look at me." I ignored him. He repeated, "Look at me. . . You're not looking at me and I'm doing something funny." I told him that I had looked at him, and it was time to to cut it out with the silly game . He asked "What game?" We went back and forth, with me getting more irritated by the minute and him insisting that he did not know what I was talking about. I threatened to go to my office if he didn't stop.
He finally got in the shower. When he got out, he dried off and pulled on his socks and underwear, and we discussed what we would do and decided to go for a tour of the YMCA. He called and asked if we needed an appointment, which we did not. I told him to get dressed so could go. He said, "Don't you think I should take a shower first? ", stripped, and headed for the shower. I shouted, "You already took one!" He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes. I'm sure. This is not funny." "What isn't?" Rolled eyes.
Finally headed over to the YMCA and spent a good 30-45 minutes touring the facility and getting information, then came back home. We decided to play a game of Scrabble on his Kindle Fire, then have lunch and decide what else to do. From my point of view, he pretended not to know how to use his Kindle. He asked again whether he was working that day. He kept saying that "These aren't very good letters" and then making 3 or 4 letter words. After 3 or 4 turns, he asked, "Aren't we going to do anything at all today?" I said, "You mean besides going to the YMCA?" He said, "Did we go to the YMCA? I don't remember."
"Get your shoes on. We're going." "Where?" "To Urgent Care." I suppose I should have taken him to the Emergency Room, but -- I don't know. I didn't really know what to do, and Urgent Care is just around the corner. I knew that, if he was playing some really annoying game, he wouldn't carry it that far.
We got to Urgent Care (which, coincidentally, is in YMCA Plaza, where we'd been just an hour before) and I told them that he couldn't remember anything that had happened that morning. They took him back immediately, and a physician's assistant and later the urgent care doctor both tested him for stroke symptoms. He had none, except that his blood pressure was around 183. They told me to take him to the Emergency Room, where he could be seen by a neurologist and have a CT scan. By now he was frightened. He kept saying, every 3 or 4 minutes, "I didn't expect to be here today."
We drove over to Our Lady of the Lake Emergency Room. I gave them the referral and they took him right back to an exam room. His b.p. was about 177. First the emergency room doctor (I think he was probably 15 years old) performed the same tests as the urgent care doctor, and asked me for details. Mike knew his name, where he was, and what day it was, but not the date or year. At some point, they brought in a mobile x-ray machine for a chest x-ray. And, of course, did the usual blood and urine samples. They took him for the CT scan, then we had to wait for the radiologist. The scan was normal, but they were going to admit him for observation over night -- partly because they still had no idea what was wrong with him, other than that it wasn't a stroke or TIA.
So then the hospitalist came, a slightly older teenager. She performed the same tests and, again, asked me for details. Mike told her, "We went for a tour of the . . . (looks at me, "YMCA") YMCA this morning. I have absolutely no memory of that. " 5 minutes later, he told her again. She asked, "Do you remember telling me that before?" He did not.
She left to call the neurologist, then returned to say that he said it sounded like "transient global amnesia." Mike told her about going to the YMCA. She asked if he remembered telling her before, which he didn't. She left to take care of the admittance papers. Of course, various technicians, nurses, and admitting personnel were coming and going the entire time, as well as other patients.
The neurologist arrived maybe 30 minutes later. He asked Mike what happened, and he told him about the YMCA. I provided additional details. He then performed various tests and definitively diagnosed "transient global amnesia." He explained that he saw about one case every month or so ; that it clears up within 24 hours and that it is unlikely to recur. However they would do an MRI just to be safe, but that Mike was already doing better. Mike said, "Yes." I said, "No. He just doesn't realize it." Mike then told him about the YMCA again. The doctor and I looked at each other. "He doesn't remember what he doesn't remember."
During the four hours we were waiting, our conversation was, "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." "No, I didn't either." Lowered voice, "I think I might have had a mini-stroke." "Maybe. Let's wait and see what the doctors say." "So, do you think I'm going into hospital?" "Yes, they said they'll be admitting you." "Oh. I don't want to go to hospital. . . Will you bring me a care package?" "Yes." "I'll need my Kindle. And the charger. And the headphones. And a change of underpants. And some pajamas. And some socks." "Ok." Silence for 3 or 4 minutes. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be here today." etc. After the neurologist gave his diagnosis, it also included, "Thank you for flying Transient Global Amnesia, the airline that . . . er . . . uh."
Finally, around 6:00, someone came to take him down for the MRI. From there, he would be admitted, so I gathered his stuff and went with him. We passed the cafeteria on our way to the lab. After they left us in the waiting area, he told me I should go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I did a little happy dance, because clearly his memory was returning. I think it was the aroma of french fries that brought him around.
After the MRI, we were taken up to his room on the 4th floor. He was surprised to be given a private room, and agreed that there was no need for a care package. Not only was it already almost 7:30, he would be able to watch whatever he wanted on t.v.
He was released the next morning, almost reluctantly. It's not often that he gets to lie around in bed, watch television, and ordering his meals from room service. He's also asked if there's any way we can buy a set of the leg massagers they used overnight to prevent blood clots.
It was indeed, as Bette Davis promised, a bumpy ride, but we have landed safely and all is back to normal -- meaning he forgets things, but remembers that he's forgotten, and doesn't listen to me, but knows it.
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