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| Giant snowflake from Disney's Journey Through Inner Space ride. Circa 1967. Read on, McDuff! |
Disclaimer: The events reported in this story occurred in December 1968. Some liberties may have been taken in their sequencing. It all did happen, but maybe not in this order.
Note: There are three links to more information or illustration of events. I encourage you to explore them, too.
Note: There are three links to more information or illustration of events. I encourage you to explore them, too.
Once in my room, nothing of consequence happened until the next morning. During “rounds,” my surgeon, Dr. Laughlin, came in. His first words were, “Well, I guess it’s time for you to be up and around.”
I’d heard stories about spinal surgery. Weeks in bed with a massive cast. Horror stories of bathroom incidents. I knew I didn’t have a cast on.
“Um, I don’t think I should be getting up yet,” I said. “You just did surgery yesterday. When do I get my cast?”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and flipped open my chart.
“You won’t be getting a cast. I wanted to replace your ruptured disk, but your vertebrae are misshapen. So, I elongated the incision, shaved some of your pelvic bone, and fused your 5th lumbar vertebrae to your sacrum.”
An Aside: Later in life I saw a film [a film is a video precursor] of a different doctor doing my surgery. He took a hammer and chisel and began to beat on the pelvis and lumbar vertebrae, something like the reverse of this video footage. After cracking both bones, he took the slices of pelvic bone placed them on the damaged bones and sewed the patient up.
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| One screw is in L5, the other in the Sacrum in this photo of how they do spinal fusion now. Imaging a picket fence made of bone fragments in place of the screws. That's what I have. |
I wasn’t in a lot of pain at that moment. But, that was mostly the result of the heavy-duty pain meds. I realized how strong they were only after seeing the film of the operation. Cracking bones with a chisel causes pain!
“What about a brace?” I asked.
“You have a brace from before, right?”
I nodded.
“Just use that once you’re out of here. I’ll be back to tomorrow and we’ll get you out of that bed.” With that, he was off.
Every four hours I received a shot of Demerol to control the pain. More on that later— the illusive snowflakes are involved. The biggest event of the evening revolved around urine. More accurately, it revolved around the lack of urine release on my part.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t tinkle very well while lying down. Actually, I don’t tinkle at all. I hadn’t tinkled once since before my surgery the day before. By mid-afternoon, my bladder was FULL. I was given a bedpan. It remained dry. After another hour, even Demerol wasn’t masking the discomfort.
Long story short: They inserted a catheter and drained my bladder.
Longer version: I knew exactly when the catheter reached my bladder. The relief of urine exiting is difficult to describe. Suffice it to say that I still remember it. Unfortunately, as is common in hospitals, that procedure led to unexpected consequences. More on that in a future blog series.
The morning after the use of the catheter, Dr. Laughlin entered during his rounds. He had the same opening line as the previous day.
“Well, I guess it’s time for you to be up and around.”
Again, I replied, “I don’t think I should be getting up yet. You just did surgery two days ago.”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and flipped open my chart.
“Yep. It’s time to be up and moving. Let me show you how to sit up.”
With that, he looked at my roommate’s bed. My roommate was an elderly man suffering from leg thrombosis. They were afraid a blood clot would break loose and become an embolism. That could lead to brain damage or kill him, so they check his vital signs every two hours. That’s okay in the day, but nights were hard to sleep through.
Dr. Laughlin unceremoniously shoved my roommate across his bed against the wall with a thud. Then he lay down on the mattress and demonstrated as he narrated.
“Turn on your side. Bend your knees. Use the arm under you to push yourself up while you pivot on your hip. Be careful to keep your back straight.”
He jumped off the bed and came to mine. He helped me through the process. Then he watched me do it. Then he left.
I’m sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. Legs dangling. I don’t know what to do.
The diminutive nurse came in. Notice how I avoided the potentially in appropriate term short once again?
“So, it’s time to get you out of bed. I’ll bet you’d love to go to the loo by yourself.”
The term loo was my first verification of her accent as English.
“Okay.”
She moved until she was standing directly in front of me. Without hesitation, she grabbed my hands and place on one each of her shoulders.
“Now slide up to the edge of the bed.”
I did.
“Good. Now use me as support and ease yourself off the edge until your feet are on the ground.”
I hesitated, but eventually complied.
“Now take a step.”
I carefully slid my right foot forward.
“Another.”
I carefully slid my left foot forward. And stopped. Something was different than before my surgery!
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
I had to think for moment before I realized—I wasn’t noticing pain. It was the LACK of pain that stopped me. My disk ruptured in early September of 1968. It was now December 21st and the first day I’d had no pain when moving my leg.
“No,” I said.
“Then why aren’t you walking instead of sliding your feet along the ground. Just walk. If you start to fall, that’s why I’m here.”
I looked at her. Under five feet tall. No more than 6.25 stone (100 pounds). I’m 6’ tall and 13+ stone (210 pounds).
“You realize that if I fall on you, you’ll suffocate before they’ll be able to drag you out from under me.”
She laughed.
I was lost. It showed. She continued.
“It’s an English proverb from the time when ships were built of wood. To make them water tight, the builders would coat the interior below deck with tar.
Unscrupulous builders would use the least amount of tar possible to appear the hold was tightly sealed. But, before long, the ship began to take on water. Many sank and men died.”
“Oh,” was my snappy retort.
“It means to do what needs to be done when you need to do it. Just walk and all will be fine.”
I did. It was.
Weather forecast for the Part 9 blog post: Snowflakes coming!
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Reading what the doctor did to your spine had me squirming!! Oh my word!!
ReplyDeleteYeah. I know it hurt, but I didn't think it was too bad... until the pain meds wore off.
DeleteWe never think we need the pain meds... until they wear off! :)
Delete