While Waiting...

The procedure is over. Now is the wait for results. It is also the days ahead of still feeling lousy. My gut hates food after two days of clear liquids and chemicals. Might be yogurt time, if I felt like heading to the store. Oh wait, I still have some. Frankly, I feel like staying in bed, or at least in my recliner which keeps my head elevated and me off my bad shoulder.

I have observations on yesterday. It opened with me pouring more chemical through my system starting  after midnight. But please note that I wasn't to have anything to drink except "a sip" with my required morning pills for 6 hours before the procedure, and showing up time was 6 AM. I was still popping into the restroom for the first half hour after I reached the hospital... and popping in... and popping in....  Who designs these procedures? Aren't we supposed to have stopped by now? At least the beds are well equipped with large pads covering, and the staff is reassuring that they are familiar with the consequences of the prep.

Steve was allowed to drop me off, go home, and return to pick me up, rather than park, walk in, find the hospital's version of a chair, then get up and walk all the way down the halls to the other end of the building to the day surgery center, sit on hospital chairs again, hike half a block to a restroom if he needed one, then back again, and on and on. I just explained on the phone he didn't walk well but he could drive. Since they wouldn't let me drive after anesthesia, they compromised from their policy of "must be on site" for their drivers.

I arrived at the hospital wearing a surgical mask. It's what I do. I wear them in the club most days because the kiln paper dust shouldn't be inhaled. It turns to fine dust in kiln temperatures and cleaning it off is part of the process. So, no big deal, with a mask. Otherwise, think worse-than-asbestos for your lungs. But notice that Covid, flue, and RSV are rampant at the moment. Also note this is Arizona. I saw all kinds of people in the hospital, security guards first, giving directions, other patients and/or visitors,  staff dealing with checking patients in, more to wheel us down the labyrinth of hallways so we don't get lost as an excuse to be late to our whatevers. In all the entire morning I saw not one other mask. 

When I got into the pre-surgical unit, where my data gets gone over, needles get poked... and poked... and poked again (apparently the third person knew how to actually do it), clothing is removed along with my medic alert bracelet and glasses, a "gown" is donned which is guaranteed to be neither suitable for a ball nor have any capability for warmth. If one is very lucky some kindly nurse will recall that there actually are heated blankets in the room and fetch one, in the silly belief that one is enough to keep one's body comfortable under the circumstances. Three might do it. I didn't get a chance to find out.

The lack of masks seemed to be a theme there as well. They "let" me keep mine on, until surgery started. They needed access to my mouth and nose to be sure I was successfully breathing during the process. There were delays. First, my surgeon went to the wrong Banner Hospital, the one 20 minutes away, longer in rush hour traffic. Word had spread through the unit, and most of us got a chuckle out of it. The guy behind the curtain next to me was told the same thing I was. He was in line behind me. I didn't hear him laugh. Of course there is no privacy there, and if one gets up to hit the bathroom while waiting, everybody along the path can see the patients they've been listening to. Perhaps they hope that the coming anesthesia will block a clear memory.

Meanwhile I just laid there and got cold. I figured to expect that, but still it wasn't that fun. The only entertainment was either eavesdropping or looking at the ceiling tiles which somebody with little talent had painted every so often to give those of us in bed something to look at. I figured they were some school class's project. Say, elementary school. My bed's area had some kind of winged bug with two legs and  four wings, each wing a different color pattern. The two feet on the legs were round balls in yet another color. The other side of the aisle had some kind of a leafless tree with green bark and only one branch, blue clouds in a white sky with back eyes and smiley mouths under them.  Under, not in. Maybe the artist(s?) were somebody's young relatives from the unit?

Eventually it was time to get wheeled into the room for my surgery. I met my surgeon for the first time ever, along with a couple of assistants of indeterminate duties. The 4th person was my anesthesiologist, with whom I'd had a long conversation back in the getting-ready room with lots of reassurance from her of her attentiveness during the entire procedure. A few minutes later I had heard the exact same speech one curtain over, with the guy waiting in line behind me. I watched her inject something into my IV and we conversed while I waited for it to take effect....

And woke up in post op. My shoulder didn't hurt. Somebody had rolled me over so the bad one was up and I was lying on the better one. Note I don't say "good" one. I was fully alert, listening and watching the activity around me. I had questions, just not the will to bother anybody enough to ask them.What time was it? What did they find? Had they called Steve yet? Hey people, I'm cold here! I still hadn't seen a single staffer with a mask, including the surgeon. Maybe they donned them once I was under, like it was supposed to be reassuring to see full faces? My gown had a chest pocket and they'd tucked my mask in there so I got it out again. After several more minutes I asked  for a heated blanket. It's delivery was prompt, but I was still chilled, and stayed chilled for a couple hours, even home under a blanket. Maybe they believe you're not cold until you get it together enough to ask for a blanket. Hogwash! It's when you still can't ask that you really need it.

In a bit I was told to get dressed but forbidden to stand up in case of a fall. That seemed reasonable at the time. I hadn't thought about how to put on pants yet. I'd need help with getting clothes past the bad shoulder, but by the time I got there I was communicating again, and people were helpful. My wheelchair ride to the front entrance was by the same guy who brought me up to this unit, so we exchanged pleasantries up to the point where he opened the passenger side car door for me to get in. He was already needed elsewhere.

I still hadn't seen a mask besides my own. You think I'm harping on this? I have, after all, had my latest covid, flue, and RSV shots, but as we know, or should, they do not totally protect one, just make whatever one comes down with more tolerable, with luck. After Steve stopped for fast food breakfast, got us home, and we were sitting in the living room for a bit, Rich decided to let us know that his covid test from the previous evening had been positive.

Nice to know! What timing!

Where he sleeps is cold. So while he was trying to wake up a bit, I emptied the living room couch, brought his pillow and a pair of down comforters out for him, and spent the next hour working to get him into a warm space. He was totally miserable. It took several reminders to prod him into that much activity. Steve donned his mask, and I returned mine to my face. Once Rich was in motion he also wore one. By then I decided he was sick enough - and unvaccinated for the latest version - that he needed to go to the ER to get Paxlovid. Steve was in a lot of pain by then, so I decided I'd drive. I was feeling clear headed by then, or would have called for an ambulance. I needed to fill the tank on my way back home anyway, as the light had come on while Steve was trying to keep warm in the parking lot waiting for me. We'd been told he needed to be there at 9 AM. Obviously that was delayed. I still have no idea by how much. He'd tried to conserve gas, not knowing how much of a tank was left once the light came on so the car had been cold. Rich and I appreciated having the heat on full bore heading to the ER. By then the sun was helping too. We agreed Rich would have them call me to pick him up when he needed to go home. I'd get gas and return to my comfy chair to wait.

It took about an hour to get the call. Details came much later. It turns out they tried to throw him out of the ER. Why was he there? They didn't even know if the hospital pharmacy had any Paxlovid. Eventually they called him into the triage offices, confirmed his test results, and got him his meds. I brought him home.

As the day progressed, I was getting more and more chilled, and finally self-diagnosed a fever. Uh-oh. We'd all been masked in the house since Rich came into the warm zone. I tried the goofy digital thermometer we have, and got a reading of 31-point-something. WTF? I hit the button on the top and tried to figure out how to get something that made sense, but no go. Well, time to confront worst case, and go take one of the covid tests we still have. I have both taken and supervised those things several times, but had to really concentrate to get through the steps. Like all my other tests, when it was positive, it was so almost immediately. No need to wait 15 minutes, though I did. It's still positive this morning, not having changed with the passage of time. I'm addressing the fever, staying home - so far - and trying to figure out how to get my Paxlovid. I guess the ER is out, considering how they treated Rich. (Maybe if he'd walked in with a snazzy haircut and a suit?) My primary doc's clinic opens at 8:30, the earliest I can call, but while waiting I can call my pharmacy to see if they stock the stuff. I tried last night but they'd just closed. I though they were open till 9. When did that happen?

Meanwhile, I'm wondering if it's worth my time to call the hospital and let them know my unknown condition yesterday. Obviously, had I known, I'd have rescheduled the procedure after waiting to get it to happen for over a year, and despite the annoying two days of prep. As it is, I have to reschedule a different appointment once offices open. They're the ones who should have known to wear masks, right? I did, on a just-because basis. Are they taking it so glibly these days?

Morning After:

While writing this, my pharmacy opened, the person on the phone, once one finally breaks through their reluctant voicemail system which tries, no matter what you request, to send you online, went from "I don't know if we have Paxloved" to "Yes, we have it but you need a prescription". Well of course! I just wanted to know where to tell my doc to send the prescription, speed the process up. I'll know this afternoon or maybe tonight if he's sent it through, providing the pharmacy puts it together lickety split. Meanwhile, time for more Tylenol. Fever is climbing again.