That's a Lot of Time · 10:53pm Dec 26th, 2012
As everyone is already well aware, a little over two weeks ago, I had a very serious hand injury caused by some broken glass. I got eight stitches and a severed nerve that needed to be reattached. A tall order to say the least.
My surgery was booked for Friday, which is where we shall begin this latest tale.
I arrived at the hospital at noon, having fasted since midnight the night before. Since I had time to kill, I decided to pay attention to my fellow patients. One of whom caught my eye. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and was accompanied by two police officers. Obviously a prisoner currently serving time.
In the waiting room we sat. Eventually, I was given my very own set of ass-less hospital robes, and a housecoat to preserve my modesty. The TV was on and people were chatting away about inane bullshit. Thankfully I had a white noise file on my MP3 player, which I used to drown them out as I read Rama II. A book that'll likely get reviewed on my website in the near future.
It was around this time that my mother, who previously informed me that she would remain by my side all day, had left to go back to work. You know, I love my mother, but...she's not very reliable.
Eventually I was moved to the back room, where I was assigned a stretcher that I would wait in until an OR was free.
The room I was in, I shared with three other patients. One was extremely quiet, but the others were kinda interesting. To my right was a man, a diamond driller, who was younger than me. Part of his hand was crushed in a foot plate or something, so of course he needed surgery to repair most of the damage.
Across from me was the prisoner I mentioned earlier. I'm not quite sure what he was in the hospital for, except that it had something to do with the area around his right eye. But here's the interesting part, both him, and the two prison guards accompanying him were very very nice. Not just to me and the other patients, but each other as well!
I find this unusual because one would expect, given portrayals on television and other media, that we would see the guards talking down to the prisoner and being extraordinarily disrespectful.
Even in real life, I can tell you a story about a friend who was arrested recently, and who's been arrested once before on a similar charge, but was acquitted. The officers who arrested my friend were not just disrespectful, but downright arrogant and rude. Asking questions like, "who got you off!?" referring to the previous incident. First off, as if it was any of their business, and second, I assume by "got off" they mean: defended my friend's rights in a court of law, while presenting evidence that convinced the honourable justice of my friend's innocence on all charges.
But I didn't see that from these officers in any way, and that makes me happy and hopeful.
So, by this point, we were informed that our surgeon (who was the same for all of us) received several add-ons for that day, and despite the fact that our surgeries were scheduled for 3 pm (yes, all of us) we might not get treated until later in the afternoon, or even that evening.
I was not bothered, I had a book to help me pass the time. But since the battery on my MP3 player died, I spent most of that afternoon watching the television, which I couldn't drown out with white noise anymore.
It was tuned to reality TV shows about pawn shops and such. We also watched a bit of MythBusters, Daily Planet, and the 24-hour news channels. We even got to learn how high-end binoculars, rubber rain boots, and circular saw blades are made, and during this time, I chatted with the prison guards, the diamond driller, and his mother.
The news was saturated with information from the school shooting in Connecticut that same day. I shared what I learned from Charlie Brooker, and they had their own insights. I certainly enjoyed the discussion, and their company.
It wasn't long before the prisoner was taken away for surgery, and he managed to convince one of the guards to remove his shackles with the argument: He's out in a few weeks regardless, an escape is hardly worth it.
He made a good point, so they undid his restraints before surgery. Also of interest: one of the guards had to dress in a white jumpsuit so he could accompany the prisoner into the OR. I guess so any dirt from his uniform wouldn't contaminate anything.
So the other guard stayed behind and we continued watching TV and talking about things.
After a while I was called to the OR, but once I arrived, a nurse informed me that they accidentally called the wrong patient...so I was sent back.
Time ticked on...and on...and on. We were growing hungrier and hungrier. The wait didn't bother me per say, since I had a book, and the only reason I wasn't reading it was because I found something more interesting.
Eventually, the clock ticked to eight o'clock in the evening, and we were informed that all remaining surgeries that day were cancelled. It was an announcement that upset many. But not me. We were informed that we could start eating again, but we had to resume our fasting at midnight, and return to the hospital registration desk at eight o'clock the next morning.
That was all fine by me. So I spent the next four hours shoving as much grub down my gullet as I could. The nurses gave me a free tuna sandwich. I stopped at the hospital's Tim Horton's kiosk, got a chili, a chicken wrap, a hot chocolate and a donut. I then took a cab to my mother's house where she prepared a meal. Unfortunately, there's only so much one can eat in a given time-frame without vomiting.
The next day we arrived at the designated location at the designated time, and no nurses were there to greet us. Instead, I and my fellow surgery patients from the previous day had to make a beeline for the day surgery clinic, where we once again had to wait.
A few hours later, a nurse informs us the doctor wasn't even arriving until 11 am, and surgeries wouldn't begin until 1 pm, and we should've been allowed to eat breakfast.
Basically, the right hand wasn't talking to the left, and because of that, we were a lot hungrier than we needed to be.
I sat and watched TV, but started to get annoyed with it, and myself. Particularly because there was no reason for me to find it interesting. I didn't really learn anything by watching it. So I moved into the other half of the waiting room, separated by a glass wall, and started reading.
Eventually, after hours of waiting, I was brought into the back where I was dressed in my robes, and assigned a stretcher. I went back to my book, and just as I was a few chapters from the end, I was brought into the OR.
As the nurses and assistants were getting all the equipment ready, the doctor himself was looking for jazz music through YouTube. Oh, I most certainly approved. Then the angry teacher anesthesiologist walked in, and put a stop to it.
She started talking about how she would be putting me under, and I stopped her. I knew I was supposed to get a local anaesthetic not a general.
For the layman, or the guy who never watched ER, a local is where they put one part of your body to sleep, like your arm. But it's not like the 'freezing' needle they give you at the dentist, or they gave me at the ER when I needed to be stitched up. With that, you still feel something, just not pain. The way this was supposed to work, I wouldn't be able to feel a damn thing.
In contrast, a general is where they knock you out.
Originally, I wanted a local simply because I knew it was safer. Plus, it'd be an interesting experience, awake in the OR while they cut open and repaired the inner workings of your hand? I would have loved to see that! Actually, I'd probably want to turn my head away.
But the offer of a general was on the table, and at this point, I've probably spent a total of twenty hours in the waiting rooms of this hospital. It was bearable because I had my book and cell phone for tweeting. But I had neither in the OR. I was going to have to stay in that room, wide awake, for another hour with nothing to do!? Not even a TV or computer monitor playing YouTube clips? Also, knowing me, I'd do something, or say something, to fuck up the procedure.
So she gave me the general. I went to sleep reciting the names of my favourite ponies. Don't know why, just felt like I had to do something.
I woke up two hours later, feeling like shit. The Waking Dead. My first thought was: That was a very bad idea.
So the lesson here kids is simple: If you're given the option, go for the local. I honestly think not feeling like shit would've been worth the wait.
My mother picked me up and I recovered at her place. She let me have her bed for some reason.
I was given pills to help with the pain after surgery. But my mother said there was no point in taking the pill if I was asleep.
I woke that morning in excruciating pain. I took one of the pills immediately, but sadly, they take an hour to actually kick-in. So I lay there, in excruciating pain, waiting for those powerful prescription narcotics to actually work.
After that I started taking the pills exactly as prescribed, and I learned, very quickly, just how powerful they were. These are the kind of pills that knock you on your ass. Apparently, some people take them recreationally, which blows my fucking mind.
These pills were not fun to take, but unfortunately, the pain in my left hand was even less fun.
So, mid-way through the week I stopped at a pharmacy within walking distance, and asked for some advice. He recommended ibuprofen, an anti-inflammatory, though he wasn't sure it would actually work. I started taking that half the time, instead of the prescription, and it worked, for the most part. Though, I think the only reason it did, was because the pain was starting to fade anyway.
I decided to stay with my mother while I healed up, for multiple reasons. The pills I was initially taking had a tendency to make me very tired, which is fine, but my normal residence was not always peaceful and quiet, which would interfere with my drug-induced naps, and I can get pretty irritable when tired. Also, things with my roommate were starting to come to a head, and I thought it would be better to stay out of the way for now. Finally, since I only have one working hand, certain tasks are quite difficult; Like washing dishes, and wrapping my cast in a plastic bag so I could take a shower.
I have to say, I'm lucky I had this option.
On Monday, I had to return to the hospital so they could see how well I was healing. They wrapped my hand in a new splint, and told me to return in three weeks. I guess that's how long I'll have to wait until I'm completely healed.
The odd thing was, I still couldn't feel half my ring finger, which is what the surgery was supposed to fix. I was told it would still take a while. Re-attaching the nerve was only half the job. Apparently the nerve will need to grow back. Could be a few months before my hand is back to normal. It's going to be an interesting couple of months.
Eventually, the non-event we've all been waiting for, December 21st, came and went, and I had a laugh. Then I met some friends for Sushi...Christmas...blah blah blah. Thankfully, during this time of year, my hand didn't impair things too much. Turns out, it's not that difficult to drive with one hand.
I cannot wait until my hand heals, and everything is back to normal again. I can write at the same pace I always have, and my sleeping schedule will hopefully return to normal. Right now, everything feels out of whack. We'll see how things go for the next few weeks. But right now, I need a rest.
I had to have the nerve reattached on my right index finger, as well as the artery and vein sewn back together, and it was not fun lol.
Years later, I still only have maybe 50% feeling back in that one finger. I'm lucky though, because I could have lost said finger.
Nice selection for reading material. Have you noticed that Nichole kinda seems alot like Twilight? (I am still scowering the used book stores for a copy of the last book in the series, Rama Revealed.)
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You know, I wanted to object to that comparison, but I don't think I can.
Used bookstores? You do know it's not out-of-print...right?
653769 Yeah, I know it is supposedly not out of print, but every time I look in Barnes & Noble, they don't have it.
Also, used books are less expensive, and have a certain feel to them that just makes them that much better. (paperback preferred btw)