Recovery Room bonding, Juan the Greeter and Rehab pain

As I emerged slowly from my morphine induced haze, full leg brace securely in place, I began to notice that the recovery room I was in was actually quite lovely. I would later learn that I had the only single room on the surgical floor and the only room with a flat screen tv, albeit with a missing remote control which kept David quite busy switching channels and adjusting volume as the medical staff flowed in and out of my room to check on me. Dr. Brad came by for a visit with Dr. Steadman and congratulated me on how well the surgery went. As they suspected, the patellar tendon required a complete repair and with a little luck would be fully functional in 4 months time. Dr. Brad patted my good leg and inquired after my level of discomfort, I was stoic. He instructed me to call should I have any questions or needs whatsoever. My delightful nurse, Audra, encouraged me to eat something as at this point it had been 24 hours since I last tasted food, and I suspect Dr. McDreamy may have whispered his concerns about my apparent skinniness to the nursing staff, although admittedly I have no evidence to support this contention.

Nurse Audra helped me unwrap a packet of graham crackers which I devoured in seconds, oh my what delicious Keebler goodness. David was there with a change of clothes for me and with Audra's aid I changed out of my tent-sized hospital gown and swapped the makeshift gauze boyshort panties for my very own 100% cotton pair. I noticed a two inch long snakelike bruise on my hip from where the nerve block had been inserted that resembled a tattoo, and felt instantly cool. This lasted up until I caught a glimpse of the pasty faced, haggard and ponytailed reflection staring back at me in the harsh fluorescent hospital bathroom lighting.

On the way back to my hospital room with Nurse Audra, I could not help but notice the crowded double rooms along the hallway. Like refugees on Ellis Island the patients' families spilled into the hallway in search of ginger ale and clean towels. Once safely tucked into (or actually onto) my bed, I told Audra how fortunate I was to have scored the only single room. "Oh yes, you have the VIP room indeed," she said with a knowing smile. "Oh, really," I said innocently, "is that just luck of the draw?" Audra paused and shook her head slightly, "No, it isn't luck," she said and continued with a knowing smile, "your doctor made sure you'd be given the VIP room." How delicious! I felt like a guest star on an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

My momentary high vanished though as I began to feel a not insignificant ache in my braced and bandaged knee. Audra administered pain medication, David went to the hotel to sleep and I spent the next 6 hours chatting with Audra, and dozing intermittently, even trying my yoga breathing when the pain spiked. As it turns out, Audra and I share a great deal in common, including a love of the film work of Robert Downey Jr. Before leaving the VIP room in the morning, I decided to take a bold step and offer to lend Audra the DVD of Chaplin I had in my overnight bag for her viewing pleasure. She was hesitant at first, afterall we were at a fairly early stage of our new nurse/patient friendship to be sharing movies, but after I assured her that I would be in town for another 2 full weeks, that I had already seen the film, and that I'd be at the hospital for physical therapy twice daily, she accepted with a warm smile.

A new nurse named Cindy, of Native American descent, with a bright smile and pock marked skin from severe acne in her teenage years appeared, and wheeled me down to the Physical Therapy Clinic for my 7am appointment. I was helped onto one of the 15 empty physio tables and soon met Megan, my adorable, befreckled PT. Megan quickly got down to business, first removing my leg brace and then undressing my dressing to reveal what I know to be my knee but which bore precious little resemblance to the actual body part I have grown to know and yes even love. Multiple sutures covered by surgical tape floated atop the swollen bloody lump and as I gazed around the room at the other patients who began to appear, I was relieved to confirm that mine was by far the most serious case.

Soon Dr. Brad and Dr. Steadman appeared and went over the protocol for my recovery with Megan, who took notes and nodded soberly. Dr. Brad was freshly showered and his hair was still somewhat damp giving him a "I've just returned from the beach" look that was not unpleasant. Of course it was at this point that I realized that I had now gone 26 hours without a shower myself. I raised my hands above my head in a mock stretch while tilting my head to one side in an attempt to whiff my armpits for any lingering remains of deoderant freshness. Fortunately, a feint floral scent was still readily apparent. Note to self, shower asap. Dr. Brad chatted for what seemed like ages about his impending move home next month to Athens, Georgia, before being beckoned over to the next patient by Dr. Steadman.

Megan then got down to business and started massaging my knee to encourage circulation and mobility. The word massage is not employed here to indicate anything pleasant whatsoever, in fact this "massage" was more like something out of a slow torture manual, assuming such manuals exist. With each touch I imagined swan diving onto the Clinic floor as I fainted, and landing in various attractive crash positions that Dr. Brad might find me in. But alas, I am tougher than I look and managed to remain conscious and cooperative throughout the excruciating session.

After an hour of therapy Megan iced me, re-attached my leg brace and dismissed me until my next PT appointment in 6 hours time. David went to fetch the car as a nurse wheeled me to the front of the hospital. I propped myself up on my crutches and shimmied over to the open rear passenger door with my back touching the back seat. This was as far as I had thought things through and it was at this precise moment that I realized I had no idea how to successfully alight the back seat without the assistance of a small team of weightlifters. David stood watching me, perplexed but offering no meaningful assistance.

I handed him my right crutch and placed my right hand on the backrest of the seat behind me. This did nothing and so I handed him my left crutch, and then with both hands behind me tried to haul my limp body up onto the back seat with little success. Suddenly a gentleman in a sharp suit and tie stepped forward, his name tag revealed him to be "Juan" the hospital "Greeter", and his carefully trimmed mustache revealed him to be a latino man of personal pride. Juan suggested I use my crutch for leverage to hoist myself on to the back seat as he carefully steadied me while lifting my injured leg. This produced the intended result and as I thanked Juan, he insisted it was his "pleh-zure."

Back at the hotel I decided it was time for a shower, and so David (who I have now taken to calling "Juan") helped me slip on the one legged rainslicker over my leg brace which I had been given at the hospital and told to use for 2 weeks to keep my wounds dry. Fortunately for me, even after 17 years of marriage, the sight of me standing naked in a yellow one legged rainslicker, did not cause David to burst into a fit of laughter nor demand a divorce. God bless that man!

With David's assistance I showered, dried and dressed, and after a brief nap returned to the hospital for my next PT session with Megan.

Sleep at night would not come easily, due in part to the pain and in part to the foot pumps I am forced to wear at nighttime. The foot pumps are slipperlike attachments that I wear on my feet to avoid blood clots. They are attached to a boom box sized air compressor which alternates compressing each foot in turn by shooting small bursts of air that sound like an erupting whoopie cushion. No matter how much Percoset I take, it is impossible to sleep soundly through the noise and squeezing. On a brighter note, being forced to sleep flat on my back due to the leg brace does have me waking up with absolutely perfect hair.

Good night dear reader...and good luck.