They wheeled me into the extremely bright and white operating room early in the morning.
“Where’s the robot?” I asked.
“That’s the first thing everyone asks,” a nurse said with a laugh. “It’s not here yet.” (The anesthesiologist gave me the choice of a spinal shot or general, I said just do what you did last time.)
The surgeon came by my recovery room in the late afternoon, we looked at the pelvic X-ray of the two artificial hips, and he said he had repeated the procedure two or three times with the robot to get it within two millimeters, the idea being to get both legs equal length. He said that sometimes they can’t be exactly equal when chances of dislocation are factored in, one of the big hazards during the rehab process. (Those shiny new joints look like pretty cool additions.)
Day Two
I’m sitting in my hospital chair with a cuppa coffee at 7:45am with my breakfast in front of me, the CNA just got me out of bed where I’ve been since the hip replacement operation yesterday morning, and the physical therapist will come in an hour to help me get dressed. (Last night I watched two to three hours of convention speeches, often whooping loudly, then managed to get five hours of sleep with my leg squeezers humming, beeping, and flashing all night.)
Another big concern is blood clots, and that’s why I’ve had these leg wigglers attached below my knee to help prevent them from developing. (A blood clot in the leg can travel up and block an artery in a lung, causing a pulmonary embolism, which can usually be successfully treated with blood thinners.)
Two of my nurses are from Covelo, one a sharp handsome fellow who said his family has a 5000 acre ranch up there. I said I’d been feeling no pain, he said that was because I’d been getting strong liquid Tylenol into my arm nonstop since the surgery twenty hours before, and gave me a #5 oxycodone, the lowest dose. I asked how many would kill me, he said twenty, but was probably just trying to scare me straight. (His Covelo cousin is another of my friendly nurses, her twin sister also works on the floor, and several others told me they live in Brook Trails.)
There are many young Mexican men and women working as nurses and CNAs, one gorgeous one visited me in the middle of the night, a statuesque beauty with luxuriant hair. She spoke with a deep sultry accent as she handed me the pee bottle to take into the bathroom with my walker.
(I wanted to find out more about the nurse’s Covelo ranch, with that much land there must be meadows, creeks, and maybe a river, right? He said they have cows which go everywhere, even into the steep forest. He saw me scribbling, I talked about my writing, and he said he won an award in Hawaii for an essay about his culture: half white, half Yuki.)
Breakfast is done, it’s time to start the celebration of the new hip, and I just ordered carrot cake and ice cream for dessert. (Oh yeah, here we go!)
Day Three
This morning feels so weird, I have to try to get someone to help me with every little thing here. I need something to spit into after brushing my teeth, a shower might be nice, help to go pee, get up, get dressed, and put on my leg squeezers. It’s the busy time in the morning, they must be short-staffed, and so I wait. (They say this is elective surgery, and yes there is someone moaning loudly every morning down the hall, with major intestinal pain I was told, so I get no priority as my hip is not a life-threatening condition. I just heard an urgent alarm sounded to bring emergency help to a room)
You’re not allowed to leave your bed without an attendant there with you as you move along with a walker. If you do anyway they are alerted by a loud bed alarm, and then they come running. (Mmm, the coffee just arrived, that should even things out.)
Damn, I forgot what a project and commitment it is to get a total hip replacement: I won’t be able to drive for two months and won’t be able to sit at my computer desk unless I get a leg rest. All this so I won’t have to limp around all the time, and be able to walk in the park again. (Forget the shower and teeth: I got help getting dressed and into my chair, and am awaiting breakfast and the physical therapist.)
I watched Kamala give her speech last night, think she really nailed it, but what a crock, she probably won’t be able to do all those things she proposed or promised, it’s just a show.
One thing for sure, no matter who wins, half the country will be severely disappointed: all I care about is beating Trump and all the Trumpers care about is beating the San Francisco communist Kamala Harris. But then her husband Doug Emhoff knocked at my door holding his clipboard, asked if there was anything I needed, and I thought, “Jeez maybe she will pull this off.”)
(What brought me to this place? I may be paying the price for trashing my hips while hiking up and down the steep mountains out in the Gulch for a few decades. Should I have been more sensible about where I chose to grow those remote pot patches?)
Home: Last night the pain hit and I felt this seemingly endless and boring discomfort. I took an oxycodone, and within half an hour I felt the sweet release of a hopeless drug addict.
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