I finally make it home from the hospital and everything is right with the world! (So far, as of today....)

One probably should not lie to the doctors just to get out of the hospital.  I think I am going to get away with it however. Today I walked four steps without crutches. I am not supposed to so please don't report me to HR. 

I am home from the Hospital!

I have it all! My wife left me with coffee, books, and a lego kit if I achieve my daily goals. My brother brought me Farm Show and got the fire going. I am truly, "too blessed to be stressed!"

I can't remember much of my hospital stay. I was reading my hospital notes yesterday and realized I was heavily drugged. Oxy, Morphine, and a certain anti-anxiety medication, are a great combination for me and very entertaining to my neighbors.

The warning label on the Oxycodone says it could cause drowsiness. However, it makes me silly and wired and constipated. The Morphine helps me sleep and I suspect the Lexapro smoothed out the spikes so I just stayed stoned all the time. 

I made a lot of new friends with this combination. If only I could remember them.

As I was saying yesterday, I had a spinal 30 years ago when I ran my foot through the cross conveyer chain on the 1075 New Holland stacker. That is my benchmark for pain and suffering.

The spinal was horrible. It hurt like heck, it made half my body felt numb but I could still have the bone sensations when they worked on my foot. Then, as it wore off, the top of my body had feeling and the bottom didn't. I felt like I was wetting the bed constantly and I had to pee.

My surgeon wanted me to do the spinal but the staff in the operating room actually agreed with my fears and just knocked me out. 

I woke up an hour and a half later in recovery and immediately found myself engaged in conversation with my nurse who had just gone through a divorce and had a disappointing date the previous night. She also had a similar job experience where the people she worked with were cool and the management were a bunch of idiot liberals who had no idea of what it was like to be working class. Also, she said, "That spinal hurts like hell, you know they stab you in the spine with a needle!"

I think I talked too much. My wife said when the nurse called her to tell her I was awake she congratulated her on 25 years of marriage and having an "adorable," husband. There is probably video of this somewhere online. I can laugh because it is good to be a happy junkie vs a sad depressed one.

They gave me a room with an older man from Romania. He had also broken his hip. Mine was on the left and his was on the right. We also had the same surgeon.

Later my wife and daughter showed up with more dim sum, and reading material,  I think... Now the timeline becomes rather fuzzy. All I remember is having to pee frequently and how awkward that was. I met numerous nurses who were all really nice and kept asking me if I needed more pain medication. I kept saying it didn't hurt unless I moved and I was not supposed to move anyway.

So they brought me a cup of pills which I took. But, no morphine in the IV. This was bad as when the previous dose of morphine wore off I was wide awake and uncomfortable. There was no position that felt right and every time I got to sleep some sort of monitor would go off or I had to pee which required a nurse who had to measure my output and then they would do an ultrasound of my bladder to see if it was all out.

My roommate seemed to be having similar problems with pain and sleep so we started talking.  He came to the USA in 1987 from Romania. This was still a dictatorship in 1987 and despite the many reforms going on in the world, they were still pretty hard line communist.

As a Christian, he and his family faced discrimination from the state government. I couldn't hear everything he said but his efforts to worship God resulted in lower status jobs and threat of imprisonment.

He said at one point got tired of always defending his belief so he asked the state to prove there was anything wrong with him as a citizen. This got him arrested again and his family harassed, but they found that he had broken no laws and was actually a good citizen.

Many people were trying to escape the country at this time. He said the risks were high as they would simply shoot you or disappear you into hard labor if you were caught. So, he decided to immigrate legally and take his family. This was a lengthy and expensive process as he had two boys and two girls and his wife,

His brother-in-law and some friends tried to escape at night across water. I should look this up to figure out exactly where this could be done. It sounded like to me like they built large floaty and towed it behind a boat. Or possibly were going to float down a river past the border with no power.

Either way, something spooked the crossing guards and they caught them with a spotlight. They were hauled out of the river and interrogated. His brother-in-law was arrested but then, "disappeared."

My friend said he went with his Sister to the barracks near where the incident took place. The first soldier said he remembered the incident and the brother was in custody and he would go and check to see what they could do.

He was gone a long time and another officer came back to say that there was no report of the incident, no one remembered the incident, and no one by that name was in custody, His brother-in-law disappeared just like that..

Eventually my new friend was able to legally immigrate to the USA.
He said he wrote lots of letters and filled out a lot of forms and even tried calling people in US Congress and though constant efforts he was approved for immigration.

He was trained as a plumber in Romania so he had job skills. I wish I could remember how he said this but some how he ended up on the West Coast. California had too many mosquitoes, Washington was too cold and rainy, and Oregon was great.

He got a job working in maintenance at Reed College so his four children could use the Tuition Exchange to get free college at less expensive colleges. (I laughed at that, it sounded pretty familiar) After ten years he retired and started his own business.

My friend is very involved in the Romanian community locally. I believe he is a pastor in a Romanian Assembly of God Church. 

He said to me, "You know things are different today. When I came here this was a Christian country. There were Bibles on the airplane (that brought him and his family to the USA) There were people in the Churches. It is different now."

He went on to say that Christians in the US don’t believe in the power of prayer.
"When you have everything you want, it is hard to understand that Jesus said “take up my cross, (as we say in Romania it is his burden,) and follow Me.)" I put quotes around this because while I paraphrased it a little he was trying to get across the idea that there is responsibility involved with being a Christian. This carries outward from family and community onward. But I have to say it like he said it.
It was the power of prayer and the power of God that got his wife, himself and four children out of Romania legally and he went back to that statement a number of times. 

The rest of the conversation is pretty fuzzy. I wrote this first part down but we talked for a very long time.

I am pretty sure the next day was Sunday. I woke early as I pinched my IV and the monitor went off and then my kidneys were exploding. They kept me pumped full of IV fluids. So I had to call the nurse and I had to do the arduous task of swinging my legs over the bed to use the urinal. But, I was shocked to find I could do it without help.

I ordered breakfast.

Breakfast was good. I had two eggs over easy, toast, and bacon. The bacon was good. Not too crispy and not limp. Plus, I swear it was real pork and not a turkey substitute.

No raisin toast but the bacon was good.

I had a consultation with my nurse and discovered I was scheduled to walk with crutches or a walker that very day. I asked if I could walk, could I go home? My nurse said I couldn't go home till I pooped. And gave me more pain meds. I protested but she sternly suggested walking would hurt today. She also threatened me with laxatives. 

She was a nice but stern Asian nurse. She had a lot of questions for me. Could I feel my feet? Could I show her how I got turned to get out of bed without her help. (which I had been doing already). 

"I will be right back," she said and bustled out of the room. She returned with pants. This was the best thing that had happened to me since I arrived at the hospital. 

Sometime after my wife and daughter showed up with coffee and a raisin muffin and a robe. They had spent the night at the hotel across the road. The also brought me a lego kit to assemble when I completed my walk.

Things are fuzzy for a while as I got more morphine in my drip in preparation for the walk.

Sometime thereafter a nice physical therapist lady showed up with a lot of the same questions and a walker. Could I feel my feet? How did I get out of bed? I showed her how I used my good leg to help my bad leg. Then, could I stand on my own. So I stood up. She rushed to grab me. I said I was fine.

I was able to walk with crutches and a walker and I negotiated stairs. She was very happy I had pants and a robe.

I was then cleared to pee on my own. This was almost as nice as getting pants.

Sometime thereafter my Wife and Daughter showed up with more Dim Sum and my hospital lunch arrived which was mostly salad. I assembled my lego steam roller and we discussed the odds of me going home. 

It had been made pretty clear that I would have therapy and observation after surgery and the possibility of going home on Sunday was close to zero. We decided that the only way to improve chances of my discharge would be for my wife to get an hour away and then have to come back. If this didn't work it was ok as she needed to get the house warmed up and set some things in order. We had lots of help at home with her sister and my sister-in-law, brother, and nephews, but the pets were not happy and the house was cold.

Shortly after she left my nurse returned. She wanted me to take more laxatives and pain meds. I told her that has much as I appreciate her care and attention, I just really wanted to go home. Was there any way? She said, "ok, you try go number two! I talk to orthopedics"

Soon, a nice young man from Orthopedics showed up. He did all the same tests and asked the same questions. I stood for him. Showed him I could walk with crutches. I said how I would negotiate stairs. (down with the pain- bad leg first to go down) He asked about my house. Did I have people close by to help. What was my pain level? (Zero as I was still high as row one at a Dread Zeppelin concert.

I was given, and I passed, all their physical tests (which were designed for 90 year-olds) but I winced a little just to show I was trying. The only thing left was for me to drop a Joe so they knew things were working.

I even did a dry run sitting on the WC to show that I could in fact perform as requested.

The young fellow seemed very impressed and I suggested sending me how to make room for all the poor suffering folk still in the corridors of the ER. He said he would try calling my surgeon. (Who I knew was in surgery and unavailable, as my neighbor had been trying to pin down his time for surgery all morning.)

After he left the nice Asian nurse came in with a bag of super laxative that she could mix us and give me and then I could poop as required. "Maybe too much," she said. "Your choice!"

So I smiled my best smile (think Jim Belushi when Carrie Fisher was going to shoot him in Blues Brothers) and I promised the nice Asian nurse I would poop as soon as I got home. "Ok, Maybe, I call," she said and bustled out of the room.

Ten minutes later she reappears with a sheaf of papers and a lot of instructions. She had ordered my medications, she didn't actually get a good answer from Orthopedics but she thought I was really doing well and I would promise to poop as soon as I was home, I could go. "Did I have gas," she said. "I do!" I truthfully replied, (the duck and I are true friends and he clung tight with me through out my hospital stay, frequently quacking in the back ground.)

I called my wife who was looking for crutches at GoodWill. They are setting me free, get back here! I said.

My medicine arrived. I got my final instructions. My nurse showed up with a discharge notice and a wheel chair. I ask if I needed to check out or pay a bill or do something. My nurse says, "no, I wheel you out. We don't stop at desk. Your wife meet us in front. I tell her what to do!"

My wife shows up. My nurse gives my wife very detailed instructions on how to pick me up and tells her to get going! (This was funny because my wife didn't pick up what I just realized and that I was actually escaping and this was to be a well coordinated jail break.)

All was well, I was dressed and on my way out the door. Then my surgeon arrives to talk to my neighbor,

The Doctor says, “where are you goin?”I look at my nurse.

She looks worried.

I said, “you cured me! I am going home. Thank you so much!”
He stares at me…
“Are you putting full weight on that leg?!”

I feel I am in trouble.

I say I am favoring it when it hurts but mostly yes.
He looks quizzical.
I hold my crutches to the side and stand. 
“Does that hurt? Are you putting full weight on your leg?” He asks again.
“Should I not be?” I asked.

Apparently, hip replacements take longer than one day to recover from.

"Have you even seen your x-rays?" he asked.

"Just a quick look," I say. Hoping to hedge my prevarication and looking for a chance to say the magic words he needed to hear that would convince him to set me free.

The Surgeon shook his head and pulled up my x-Rays on his computer screen. It was a horrific sight. I swear they used some sort of self tapping rather long and brutal sheet metal screws to hold my leg and hip ball together. Three of them, I will be setting off metal detectors till I die. Probably used a power DeWalt to zip them in, it was a short surgery.

He gave me a stern lecture. I am not to get in and out of tractors or use a clutch for four to six months. I am not to leave my house for eight weeks. I must walk three times a day, but not overdo it. I am not to lift things, I am not to climb stairs any more than necessary. I am not to drive. It was a long lecture.

"Well, I could just go back to bed," I said.

He just shook his head and let me go. He knew I was full of B.S.

I asked my nurse on the way out if I got her in trouble.
She swore she was not in trouble. She said I was just in, "very good shape and a strong man."
She said, “I know it hurt more than you say. You do good job. I know you take care!”
“I promise to poop,” I said.

I wanted to hug her, but I was not that high any more and I am normally a shy and reclusive person.

And I am home!

It is wonderful!

(If I could turn on the charm with people like this all the time, I would probably have a little more financial success. )

In my chair, wearing the stocking hat my daughter knitted me for Christmas. Life is so much better than it was last week!