listlessly

Yesterday's weather: searingly sunny, with a record-setting high of 87ish F. That's wonderfully warm for March; what a rocking day it would have been for a push around town.

Oh, wait.

What was supposed and promised to happen was this sequence:

--Go to hospital.
--Have preparatory procedures.
--Wait a few days.
--Undergo main operation.
--Spend four to six more weeks recovering in the hospital.
--Go home via ambulance.
--Spend a slooowly increasing number of minutes upright daily/weekly.
--After a few months, be "back to normal."
--Unicorns and rainbows!

I checked in Dec 12 and went through the main procedure on the 27th, so I should have been home and getting back to life by mid-February. By now, I could have managed a little jaunt up and down East Main. Or, at least a shower, right?

No!

They didn't close one of the main incisions properly, so less than 48h after the procedure, I had a 6" x 1.5" open wound. Awesome. Sprinkle some insurance debauchery on top, and reality warped into this mess:

--Go to hospital.
--Have preparatory procedures.
--Wait a few days.
--Undergo main operation.
--Have main operation fall apart.
--Start treating new wound.
--After ~6wks, let insurance declare my situation no longer worthy of hospitalization (way to go, Aetna "doctor")
--Go home Feb 9 on complete bed rest w/rented fancybed, wound v.a.c., extraneous tubes and holes, and MWF nurse visits.
--After 3wks, go back to doctor for assessment.
--Continue complete bed rest and head back to the doctor in 8wks.
--ASPCA commercials and obituary sections.

That brings us up to date. Instead of anything remotely promising or optimistic, I have a half-healed wound and the stupid vac, there are still tubes and holes in me that doctors promised would be removed/reversed before leaving the hospital, and atrophy is taking over no matter how I exercise. I'm counting down the days until early May - that's more than four months after surgery! - when the doc will pass judgment on my condition again.

What a load of garbage. Some complications are always expected with such major medical excursions, but this is far from a "complication." What if I had had a job? I wouldn't anymore! That's probably lawsuit territory. It would have at least taken the edge off if anyone had offered anything resembling an apology, but everyone was full of excuses and even jokes. Pretty funny situation, huh.

Speaking of taking the edge off, commence pain management mini-rant. Dear "Pain Team," you're more than willing to give me 40mg of oxycodone at a time, but the 1mg IV/injection is a no-no because I'm "abusing" it to "get high?" To start, I missed the part where I was having "fun" side effects [from any of the meds], unless effective pain relief was the unacceptable result. Further, am I somehow going to abuse medicine that I have to ask for every time? Anyway, the conclusion is that many people set a plan in stone before starting, put on the blinders, and stay the course regardless of success or failure. Thus, we're using bigger and bigger chainsaws, when what I really need is a pair of scissors.

Okay. End fury. I made it through with no expletives! However, I did leave out at least as much info as I included... Hmph. Tune in next time for something irrelevant.