The days after

The days after my operation were very uneventful in the hospital, but there are maybe some things worth mentioning regarding the start of the recovery period.
Had done some research before the whole event and was prepared for the stomach cramps, the gastric dumping effect, the pains in general. I think i got myself into a state of accepting the worst case scenario, maybe it was a psychological defense i had built for my own acceptance of whatever happens after, i don't know.
The day of my operation, whilst back in my room, the only real "inconvenience" i really had was the tube which was inserted to flow my urine into a container so i wouldn't have to actually go to the bathroom or move and squiggle to use a bed pan. If you are wondering where it was inserted..i can only confirm a steady yes! Apart from that there was not much of other inconveniences to talk about, just the usual stuff i suppose when you are in a hospital, the tubes for the drips, the multiple injections of morphine (but hey, i will take that above any other pain any day!), the blood tests, had to wear an extra oxygen supply with the little tubies in the nose. I don't. Know, i guess it all has to do with the expectation levels. All that was part of my expectations, so it did not bother the hell out of me, like for instance it did for "The ugly naked man" net to me. (see my previous posts).
I am now going to expressly convey my apologies to him, should he ever come to read this, because caling him Mr. Grumpy and the ugly naked man was not nice of me. During the days i spent with him on the room, i very slowly got to know him a bit more. His real name for example was Mr. Bachman, not that he told me, i heard his nurses calling him that. He would do no more than tell me the casual good morning, hello or good night, but inly if i spoke to him first. But this man was suffering, i learnt over the days.
You see, when i went in last year, i had this young fellow as my room mate and he was gone on day two of me being in the room. I had expected Mr. Bachman to leave me the same way i suppose. Instead, he stayed very calmly in his bed, minding his own business. His drips machine would alarm because he would make a bad move and then a nurse would come to reset it. Then it would happen again, and again, and then i noticed he wouldn't care anymore, he would just let the machine keep ringing the annoying alarm tone and he would not call the nurses again. So i started calling the nurses for him, okay, and for me, cause the annoying beep was starting to irritate me too. But i started to think there was more to it than that. Then, unfortunately for him, he had a nurse come in on a morning, right there at peak nursing time, and that is when i hear him telling the nurses that "moral is low". Is said, unfortunately, because the nurse did not pick up his comment. She just said it's looking like a nice day out there and sun is coming.
His comment stuck in my head though. I had also noticed that he did not get many visitors, he was a bit of a loner. Then an older lady came to visit him, and i learned that she is a retired podiatrist, so at least a person with a medical background. I learned she was a neighbor offering to take care of his mail at home and other sundries for him. He made similar comments to her regarding being of low moral., but almost fell asleep talking to her, probably due to an injection he had gotten before. She then sneaked out of the bedroom and i saw the opportunity to talk to her. I told her about my observations and she thanked me, she said she would have a talk with the nurses.
Things changed for Mr. Bachman, that evening he got a visit of his specialist, same as mine, he gave him some pep talk and that seemed to help. The prof also offered him sleeping pills to get better night rest as Mr. Bachman said he found the nights took so long. The next night when i woke up from the nurses, i noticed he was huffing, puffing and turning in his bed, wrestling with his drips and mumbling. I took the initiative to remind him he could ask for the sleeping pills, i was really feeling sorry for him. He did not take me on to ask for them, but he did tell me a bit about himself at that point, how he had been in the room three days before i had arrived, that he had come in for a small operation and that he seems to be worse off that when he had come in. He told me about all the pills he had to take, more than ever in his life, all the injections he hated. I told him to hang in there and to make sure he gets a good night's rest as that is very important for his recovery. He had by the way also told me that he was seventy five years old, a very respectable age. One statement Mr. Bachman made stuck with me and that was that he came in healthy into the hospital and look at him now. Not long after our little chat he dozed off and slept for the rest of the night. I think i was able to take some pressure off his self pitying mind with the little chat we had. The next morning he was visibly better after the hours of sleep he had enjoyed.
The point i am trying to make are the expectation level differences between him and myself. I came in expecting the worst and he came in expecting the easiest of things. Of course i can not compare my convalescence period with that of a considerable older man, but i do believe now that the mind plays a very big part in the healing process of the body.
I cannot write this blog without mentioning Michel, my best friend to be. You should have seen the elation on my wife's face when she discovered that Michel, and that's without the double LLe, was to be the nursing assistant assigned to my room for most of my stay. Michel would be the one taking care of my personal hygiene, would make up my bed, do my weigh ins and take care of sundry other needs i may have during my stay. For those who may not realize, in French, Michel, without the double LLe, is a first name for a guy, not a woman! Yes, hence the elation clearly visible on my wide's face when she found out. How would i describe Michel? Let's just say he seems very, very Happy! He is an older fellow, a head smaller than me, greying and balding, actually would have been a great companion for Mr. Bachman as i think that Michel would not stand for any sh!t that Mr. Bachman would come up with, lol. I heard some of the other nurses say "oh, well if it's Michel that wanted it that way, then we better do it that way!", which showed me some of his character and probably also his seniority in the organization.
So who am i to refuse when Michel asks me if i want him to wash my back? Like i would dare to refuse Michel? He had me sit on the edge of the bed, unbuttoned my shirt from the back and gave me gentle but firm enough rinsing of my back, my arms, under my arms, but i do think he should carry a little graph explaining where back ends and buttocks start in the average male!

Oh, and i have not told you yet about the latest fashion for patients in hospitals, the stockings! So somebody had this great idea that to avoid getting blood clots in the legs, everybody who is spending time in the hospital bed should wear long nylon stockings. It avoids the legs from swelling. All good and well, but there are three main problems with these stockings:

1. No way you are putting on those stocking by yourself. I will use the excuse of my stomach operation, but hat off to the ladies who wear long stockings every day!.
2. the stockings are long, no ankle thing or knee things, it's a the whole way thing!
3. So I needed the nurse or assistant nurse to help me. The procedure is that i lie on my back, lift up my foot and point my toes. Then the nurse puts on the foot of the stocking, holds hands on both sides of my leg and in one shrug pulls the stocking all the way up to my buttocks.

Now, take item two, and referring to item three, then mix in the Michel effect...okay? I think you are starting to get the picture now! And you can stop smirking too! Luckily i had underwear on by then!

Keep tuned... :-)