Greetings from the Kettering hospitals coffee bar and day spa

[Rot 911]

I am so happy that I decided to forgo my back surgery and rely on physical therapy and medication. The meds I take are nerve blockers, and not opioids. So far everything is working well. In your case, I’ll try and send all the good karma I’ve built up your way.

[908/930]

Hopefully your doc is correct and you are back home soon.

[74-911]

Hang in there Patrick...

[911 Rod]

Rough patch for sure. Get well soon.

[Rusty Heap]

https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-clean-inside-your-bum#anal-douching

[WPOZZZ]

Originally Posted by scottmandue

I also was not thrilled with being put in a nursing home for my knee replacement recovery. ��

But the time went fast... Get better!

Mom went to a few nursing hmes for rehab. All I can say is DAMN! There were some pretty hot nurses that I got friendly with.

[wdfifteen]

The next few posts are about my experience having spine surgery. I wrote this mostly to myself but since it was already written I thought I'd edit it a little and throw it out there for anyone with the patience to read it.
I am not looking for sympathy. I'm sure there are more than a couple of guys here that have experienced worse. Anyway, here goes.

Page 1
I’ve been really stupid and dishonest for the past month. I’ve minimized my pain level to myself, to my wife, and to my doctors to my detriment. I’ve joked about it here on this board and elsewhere when I should have been honest. This is serious, my pain is serious, and there is nothing funny about it.

I had back surgery on Friday, the 17th of November. I was doing well until Sunday the 19th, when the pain began to ramp up. I assumed that was normal, put a brave face on it, and acted like nothing was wrong. I had to cancel a follow-up appointment on Monday the 20th because the pain was so great that I couldn’t get into a car. Vicki Insisted I go the next day and she hired a medical transport van to haul me to the doc. I got through it and was laughing and joking with the driver on the way home, but the pain was really bad.

Honestly, my memory of the next 10 days isn’t clear. My truck was on BaT and I monitored that and answered questions. I cooked my own breakfast a couple of days, made some bull5hit posts on PPOT, lied to my friends that I was doing OK. I think mostly I must have felt OK until bedtime every night when the pain really ramped up, but honestly, I look back at the two weeks after the surgery and it’s just a fog.

In addition to the other problems, I had developed a urinary frequency issue. I had to get up to pee every hour to hour and a half. The pain of getting out of bed was excruciating. I had to wake Vicki to help me. Every hour or so I would wake her, put a washcloth in my mouth to bite down on, and she would help me up. I would make it to the bathroom, dribble out an ounce or two of pee, and go back to bed until the next time. Neither of us was getting any rest and neither of us was thinking straight. At no time did either of us think, “This is not right.” In retrospect, I can’t believe we endured that for as long as we did. I don’t know what we were thinking, or if we were thinking at all. We were both sleep deprived and just running on automatic.

On Sunday morning Dec 3rd Vicki announced, “Something bad is wrong and we’re going to the ER.” Finally, one of us was firing more than two brain cells.
The ER doc gave me dilaudid, then another shot of dialudid, which did little to lessen the pain. Now that they were asking, I realized the pain was focused in the triangle between the points of my hips and my groin. The pain was excruciating if I made any motion to use the muscles in that area. The doc gave me muscle relaxers and within half an hour I was feeling much better.

Something happened while I was in the ER. The resolve that, by force of will I can do whatever I need to do, disappeared. At home I sat up by biting a cloth or the corner of the sheet and willing myself to sit up through the pain. Now I could not make my body sit up. I couldn’t make by body do anything. The connection between my brain and my muscles was gone. My range of motion was limited to lifting my head and getting up on one elbow. I lost my sense of agency. I was forced to rely on the help of others and give up on the notion that I was in control. In a way, it was a relief.

[wdfifteen]

Page 2

Two revelations came out of the ER stay - there is such a thing as a bedside urinal (who knew?) and muscle relaxers, not pain killers, make the pain manageable. How much agony could I have avoided if we had known there was such a thing as a bedside urinal?

After the day in the ER, at about 9 PM, I was transferred to a bigger hospital 20 miles away and put in the observation ward. That night was a cycle of rolling over and pissing into the plastic bottle every hour or so, dozing off, have my vital signs taken every couple of hours, peeing again and trying to sleep. Peeing without getting it on me or the bed became a central concern in my life and caused anxiety way out of proportion to its importance. The nurse gave me a towel to use for any small cleanup needed after pissing. My towel was comforting to me beyond all reason.

My surgeon, Dr. Vien, came in the next morning (Monday, Dec 8). He wasn’t sure what was wrong with me and ordered another round of blood and urine tests, another CT scan, and an ultrasound of my lower abdomen. He said he had seen lower abdominal pain after this surgery before. It was an uncommon complication of the surgery, but not unheard of. But he said he had never seen it this bad before. He also said the previous CT showed I needed to empty my bowels before the next one, so I was introduced to yet another humiliation – forced pooping under the watchful eye of a nurse.

Monday evening, I was transferred from the Observation Ward to the Inpatient Ward and it sounded like I was in for the long haul. They piled all my possessions on top of the bed and wheeled me down at about 7:00PM and put me in a room. A nurse hooked up the IV line, blood pressure cuff, and heart monitor wires and quickly asked if I needed anything. I had only been there a minute and didn’t really know whether I needed anything or not. She left me there to “relax” with every light in the room blazing and the IV alarm soon going off. The water bottle for my CPAP machine was on the bed with me and pretty soon I realized it was leaking. I tried the call button, but it did nothing. I tried yelling out the door, but there was no one around, so that got me nowhere. After about an hour of lying there in wet blankets and the damn alarm going off I heard someone in the hall and I threw my pillow through the door. It landed behind her and she didn’t notice it. A while later someone came by and stopped to pick up the pillow and I was able to yell at them to come help me. She changed the bed clothes, plugged the call button into the wall, and shut down the alarm. She was in a hurry because my transfer had taken place in the middle of shift change and there was some kind of complication. I asked her to turn the lights off and leave the bed side rails down so I could pee, but she said she wasn’t allowed to do that. I had to continue to try to pee horizontally into a plastic bottle that had to be held horizontally, which was an obvious recipe for disaster. Plus, they took my towel out with the wet blankets. I spent another fitful, sleepless night of noise, lights, and pissing.

[wdfifteen]

Page 3

The next morning, Tuesday, Dr Vien came back, we had a chat, he said he was 90% sure the problem was strained/torn abdominal muscles, but he was bringing in a thoracic surgeon to consult with just in case it might be something else. This sounded like good news since the pain felt like strained muscles to me. Later I got one of the nurses’ aides to put the side rail down and I got through the day successfully peeing and optimistic that we were getting somewhere. I think I felt the pain lessening some. Late afternoon a nurse came in and put the side rails up, told me I had to have some dinner, and when I told her I didn’t want anything she ordered pot roast for me anyway. I asked to have the side rail left down but was told it wasn’t allowed.
Well, with the side rail in the way the inevitable happened, I got piss all over my gown, the blankets, and sheets. The call button worked, and while the nurses were changing the bed I got a look at how the bed is put together and saw a way around this pissing on myself problem. The rubber mattress has buttons on it that a rubber sheet snaps onto. The soft blankets etc are assembled on top of the rubber sheet. After the nurses left, I pulled the blankets and sheet back and unsnapped the rubber sheet from the mattress enough that I could roll it back. Now when I had to use the urinal I could pull the rubber sheet back and take care of business over the bare mattress. Any spillage would run down between the rubber sheet and the mattress. When I snapped the rubber sheet back in place the spillage was isolated under the rubber mattress and my sheets stayed dry. I felt a sense of relief that I had things under control and I was able to finally get some sleep. I still wanted my towel and was kind of pissed off about them taking it. With the fact that I could feel pissed off about something I felt a little glimmer of becoming a person again. Maybe I was recovering a sense of my own agency.

Wednesday
I was feeling less pain and was able to talk a nurse into helping me sit up on the bedside. I sat up without too much pain, and that was all I needed. I was determined to go home, but I was powerless and wary of any setback that would keep me there. The attending Doc and Dr Vien both agreed I would be just as well off at home so that hurdle was cleared. Later there was a question of whether Dr. Vien would let a nurse there take the staples out of the incisions or if I was going to have to come back at a later date. A phone call to Dr. Vien, and he said take them out. I thought I was free to go and called Vicki to come and pick me up. But then a nurse came in and said I had to stay another night. I called Vic and told her to turn around and go back home until I straightened this out. I pitched a major fit only to find out it was a paperwork error.
Vicki picked me up around 1 PM and I was outa there.

I spent the ride home enjoying how colorful and quiet the world outside is. I didn’t say much, just sat there looking around and feeling kind of stunned. Four days and three nights of staring at a hospital ceiling, bathed in the constant roar of the air handler, the beeping of alarms going off, and all kinds of equipment beeping just for the hell of it gave me a new appreciation for how beautiful and quiet the world can be. It was a little overwhelming.

Today is Wednesday, December 13. I’ve been home a week and making incremental progress. I don’t feel particularly confident about the future. Just taking it one day at a time and hoping for the best.

[GH85Carrera]

Hospitals suck for the patient. When I had my hip replaced they would come in at 2:30 AM to wake me up just so they could check my weight. WFT, they can;t do that in the day time?

Glad your pain is better, and that you are doing better.

[Zeke]

Cookie cutter story of how it went when they removed my 22 month old shoulder replacement down to the last screw and hooked me up to an IV pump of antibiotics I would wear for 35 days.

Also in the hospital for 4 days while Covid raged and the line out of the ER door was 100 people long. The big difference was I was in no pain but took the pills anyway more out of boredom.

I absolutely cannot sleep on my back so I didn't sleep for 70 hours before I managed 2 hours only to be woken up at 6am by the nurse leaving her shift at 7. I found that sleep by rolling over on my side, no small feat as you know.

I too bypassed the alarm for getting out of bed when I found the switch at the foot of the bed. I had long since figured the cage thing out and dropped it at will. I spent the last day sitting where I pleased, going to the bathroom as I pleased with no assistance. The only inconvenience physically was having my arm hopelessly slung and strapped to my chest.

I was supposed to be out of there much sooner and in fact 8 months later when I received my 2nd shoulder I spent one night. Like you, Patrick, it was paperwork and a delayed delivery of the take-home pump and carrier. Plus I had to wait for someone to teach me how to change the dosage out even though a nurse came to the house 6 days a week. My wife and I did the change over on each 7th day. Kinda hard when you have only one arm.

Talk about paperwork, I have been sent to collections just recently for unpaid bills after 3 years to the month. The best part is that the bills for the next round that were submitted in the following January by the same company were paid by insurance. So deductible in Dec was not the problem. Billing and coding errors that went to sleep for 3 years until someone thought they should just sent that out to collections w/o even writing me a letter.

Back to the hospital, what a sihyhole. Loud as hell 24/7 with way too much banter and joking/laughing amongst staff. It must be their release for working in a horrible job doing 13 hour shifts. Yeah, 13 because of the handoff coming in and leaving.

For the record this was the famous Cedars Sinai where many Hollywood people have been treated and many there for their last days. I never went back, changed surgeons and hospitals and the difference was night and day.

Sorry for your ordeal. Someday it will all be in the past and you'll be on that Speedster in a good mood if not total comfort. Sure, you'll have limitations. I can't (not supposed to) lift more than 20 pounds or work overhead at all, both of which I have violated foolishly.

[Rot 911]

It’s tough to read about all you’ve been through. You are living the nightmare I dreaded if I had to go in and get surgery on my back. On another note, I don’t understand why nurses in hospitals feel the need to be dictators and make your life as miserable as possible.

Hopefully, in a short as time as possible, you are posting about how much better you feel.

[herr_oberst]

Patrick, fingers crossed that you're finally on the road to a sweet, sweet recovery. (tbh, it sounds like your humor still seems to be intact, at least in your writing voice.)

My hip replacement saga was nowhere near as bad as the narrative you describe; all in all, after reading the Sorrow of the Spinal Surgery I'll thank my lucky stars that everything worked out pretty well in spite of some minor snafus. That doesn't help you, but I feel better now! It's all about me!

(And, boy, did I love those leggings that automatically massage the calves. I still think good thoughts about 'em five years later.)

Get well soon, feel better, and let Vickie know how grateful you are for all her effort in your rehab. (I'm positive that you do that last bit many many times a day)

[Zeke]

Originally Posted by wdfifteen

Today is Wednesday, December 13. I’ve been home a week and making incremental progress. I don’t feel particularly confident about the future. Just taking it one day at a time and hoping for the best.

Us too on the one day at a time, Patrick. I'm sure the current situation eclipses the one you were in before the surgery. The goal is to come out of this better, and you will. Get positive as soon as possible. That will help.

And a thought, we all remember the "Gold Plated Porsche." Seems like you've written a journal so far. I'd keep up on that given your writing talent and pull all of this together in a book.

This ordeal will be a good couple, maybe 3 chapters. I'm sure another 9 chapters are already in a thought somewhere. Many people will ravish vicariously your move out to a farm just as much as Jeremy Clarkson. In fact, I'd rather read about you than him.

[DonDavis]

Holy effin' hell. What a heck of a journey.

I really, really glad you shared that with us. All aspects were pertinent and made sense. Shift changes are always between 06-08 and 18:00-20:00 depending on the site. Not the best time to arrive or have issues, they simply have too much going on with pass-downs and such.

I've been working in hospitals for nearly 30 years and I forget how foreign their operation can be.

My daughter is a Nurse and she and I laugh at shared stories of our unique experiences. I work on Diagnostic Imaging equipment ( CT, Nuc Med, PETCT ) and she's now a Nurse Educator.

I think I have a similar mindset to you Patrick wrt pain communication. I always, always always undersell what I'm feeling. I think back to my childhood and the first 10 years of my life was on a farm. I got injured all the time, but never broke any bones, except my nose 3x.

I really hope you keep improving. Stay in touch.

[pwd72s]

With Cindy's recent hospital stay and then time in rehab, I understand...what a fuster cluck! I was very fortunate to have my daughter, 33 years an RN, with us to lead us through the BS and medical screw ups.

[herr_oberst]

Originally Posted by Zeke

your move out to a farm just as much as Jeremy Clarkson. In fact, I'd rather read about you than him.

I couldn't agree more. I made it five minutes into the JC doc and rue the fact I won't be getting that time back... Patrick definitely has a Peter Egan humor in his fingertips, even when he's down for the count like he is now.

[Seahawk]

A journey not written about, would be, in this case, a pity.

Thank you, Patrick.

[jyl]

I hope, and think, that you've passed your nadir. It sounds like you and your doctor know what is causing the pain and what to give you to help the pain, and it also sounds that little by little you're making progress. Fingers crossed. Stay strong but take all the help - people, meds - you can get.

[flatbutt]

Originally Posted by Seahawk

A journey not written about, would be, in this case, a pity.

Thank you, Patrick.

I've tried more than once to write about my experience to no avail. It's so hard to convey such a deep internal journey beyond the facts of the ordeal.

Chin up Patrick. Attitude is 90% of the journey.