WRIST SURGERY FOR MIKE

Mike had surgery yesterday. I didn’t mention it heretofore because, to be frank, I wasn’t sure it was going to come off.

Mike developed arthritic pain in his left wrist and decided to see if something could be done to alleviate it. Diagnostics revealed that the cartilage is gone. It’s bone on bone and not going to get better. The surgical option was to fuse the wrist. He’ll lose some range of motion, but the pain will be gone. Surgery was first scheduled for January 20 and then rescheduled for the 23^rd, his birthday.

At first, the time was set for 6:00 a.m., then later in the morning. Next, we were told that individual surgery times depend on the day and who’s on the schedule. Kids go first, then diabetics, and then everyone else depending on personal factors. And of course, emergencies happen.

So, Wednesday afternoon, facility staff called to say that his surgery was scheduled for 1:30 p.m.

“What?!” said Mike. “Do I still get nothing to eat or drink after midnight.”

“Oh no,” said the scheduler. “You should drink Gatorade in the evening. Then at 6:00 a.m., you can have clear broth, and no water after 7:00 a.m.” Mike was not impressed. He did NOT get up at 6:00 to drink broth.

Sitting around hungry and apprehensive is not Mike’s thing, so he got a haircut while I shopped for groceries. Late in the morning, the facility called again. Surgery had been pushed back to 2:30. A frustrated Mike went to the gym to work out.

We arrived at the facility on time. “We’re sorry,” they said, “but we’re running way behind. We’ll still do your surgery, or you can reschedule.”

“I want to get it over with,” said Mike, and who could blame him?

They soon took him away, and I went home. I took care of Bess, relaxed for a while, then returned to the facility at 4:30. Mike hadn’t been taken into surgery yet but was sleeping, they said. Hmmm.

Suddenly, a nurse dashed up to me and said that I had to go right then and buy the pain meds before the pharmacy closed. Why hadn’t we done this yesterday, I wondered, but they called in the prescription and I headed to the closest pharmacy, the one that used to include a gift shop. It’s a boring place now, but I waited and obtained the pain meds that Mike undoubtedly won’t take.

Back at the waiting room, I sat and waited and crocheted and waited and read magazines. Occasionally a nurse would pop through the door and say, “Not yet.” Finally, about 7:45, she came to get me. “Do you have help at home,” she asked.

“Help?” I asked. “I can take care of him.”

“I mean to get him from the car to the house. You have to have help because he's still groggy," she said.

Hmmmm. If the possibility of this scenario had been presented to us – say, at the pre-op appointment – I could have made arrangements.  Just then, my phone rang. It was son Clint checking on us, and he agreed to meet us at the house. I felt bad about it because I knew his bedtime was approaching, and I said as much to the nurse.

“Hey!” she said. “Think of all those times you stayed up for him.”

“Oh yes,” I said, “he used to keep me up,” but that was long ago and far away.

The nurse got Mike into the car. “I’ll drive,” I told him, and we flew down Bryden Canyon, over the bridge, through the round-a-bouts, down the river road and up the hill, arriving ahead of Clint. I told Mike that he had to wait in the car because Clint was coming to help us. I could just see Mike opening the door and hopping into the house, but he was obedient and waited for Clint. And it was a good thing. He did need support.

I was hungry, so I warmed leftovers for myself and proceeded to eat. Mike watched on one side of me while Bess watched on the other. I expected to make soup and crackers for Mike, but he said, “I could have what you had.” And he did – and a piece of his birthday cake, and a piece of banana bread, and some peanuts and Sugar Babies, a big glass of iced tea and a little milk. So much for starting light.

Anyway, there were no problems with the procedure itself, and things are going reasonably well today. Mike was up at the usual time. He even pulled on jeans and put on his boots. I would have stayed in my pajamas. KW