A Piece off Cake Ha

Whoever sold this surgery as a"piece of cake" lied - big time. First the five days in the hospital. You are told you will be out of bed and on our feet the next day. What they don't tell you is that it will take four strong strong men and Atilla the Hun to accomplish said feat. The docs kindly tell you of "pain management" neglecting to say that only about once in ten times that you push the button will you get any relief. Oh, and they forgot to mention that the strong narcotics often cause nausea - a real neat trick for someone who has had a stomach fundopulation! The morning of day five, who do I have at home who can take care of me for the next week or two. Answer: Ernie (gimpy at best), Sarah (ditto), oldest daughter Estelle for 8 days, somewhat better than the rest of us. "OKAY," says the powers that be. "Order her a 3-1 commode, a shower seat a hospital bed and send her home.

Monday evening about 8PM, have been home for an hour and a half now. There is NO chair in the house comfortable to sit in. The sofa is tolerable if I lie on my side and sort of log-roll onto it. Nerve pain that I have NEVER felt before starts to radiate around my right ankle bone, around both knees, up and down the backs off my legs and does a spiral tape dance in the middle of each buttock. There is no position, up or down, that relieves the pain, only the blessed four and six hour intervals when the big guns can be consumed. A call to the Dr. nurse gives a reassuring "oh well, at lease she can fine some relief for a short time. The first two weeks can really be hell. NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO TELL ME THIS

Now the fun part. Estelle has gone home, it is gimpy, gimpier and gimpiest holding down the fort, sustaining each other quite well. I can do nothing except pull up my own pants, a recently acquired and appreciated skill. First, while cradled on the sofa I over-reach for the telephone and do a very slow-mo roll off onto my left hip onto the floor. The only apparent damage is to nerves and ego. Life goes on. Yesterday evening, high on drugs, I'm sure, I'm negotiating the one-step-up landing, heading, I think, for the western part house. For reasons best known to itself my walker takes a role in the opposite direction, causing me to take an unsteady step back wards, follow by two or three more, taking me "off" the landing. The walker I push out from under me, curl up protectively and do a roll. I lie for a few minutes just daring anyone to touch me until I have ad a chance to assess for any damage. I finally crawl over to the sofa, get up onto my knees and then my feet, Nothing

seems to be knocked loose, out of joint or out pf place. This am, about 730, I get out of bed, move the walker to the foot of the bed and tun to head to the ladies room. Walker leg catches on bedding and KAWHAM, we are both in a heap on the floor.

NOW THE REAL FUN PART. Oldest daughter checks in and hears story. She has fit,call her two brothers who have been very busy with Christmas and life plans of their own. Two brothers feel guilty, call here and yell at both Sarah and Ernie for not doing a better job, scold me, for what I"m not sure, make threats to call my doctor and have some kind of "interventions" made. One son does bring two kids and drive over for a few hours. I think he is somewhat assuaged (?). Other brother says he "might" be able to come by for a few hours tomorrow. I pray he has his humble pie cap in hand as both Sarah and Ernie have bruised feelings and egos and are ready to take him down a foot or two.

What I had hoped would be a timely and the lease interruptive of the kids plans all seems to be backfiring. I still want to return to work on 1/5, bit it does honestly look as though it might be a week later. Damn!

At any rate, I except that the next few days will be relatively quiet for the three of us, with my being extra careful to live within the physics of the walker, until such time as I can toss it far far away.