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16 June 2006 04:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
in_steadSo. I've had quite the exciting few days.
On Tuesday, my mother went in to get orthoscopic knee surgery. My father had to go out of town in the afternoon, so he drove her in to the hospital and waited during the operation, then I spelled him off so he could head out. I picked up my mother and took her home to look after her.
All went well, until dinner time. I was bringing up my mother's dinner from the kitchen to her bedroom when my lower back began to ache. I've been having difficulties with my back for the past week and a half, so I wasn't really surprised. I decided to lay down for a bit, wait for it to pass. A little while later, the dogs barked, wanting to be let out. I tried to get up, but my entire back seized and I literally fell over. I tried to crawl and couldn't even manage that. I have never been in so much pain in my entire life.
After about forty minutes of trying to move -- to crawl, even -- all I had accomplished was to make the pain worse. I was crying and shaking and hyperventilating from it. I was having such strong muscle spasms in my back as to make me lose feeling in my hands and feet, which was an incredibly scary sensation.
So, my mother, who was up and moving quite a bit better than she had expected after having knee surgery that morning, called an ambulance. Some very nice paramedics came and scooped me up on a backboard and drove me to the hospital. Then they stuck me on a gurney in the hall of the emergency ward.
Where I remained for twelve hours.
They didn't even give me any pain medication until a spasm had me literally screaming and hyperventilating in their hall, disrupting the nice patients in rooms around me. A doctor drifted by every once and a while, poked at my feet, and went away.
The doctors and nurses on the night shift were so determined not to admit me that they just kept pumping more and more pain killers and muscle relaxants into me, just to get me up and walking enough to justify sending me home. They'd wait a few minutes, then try to push and pull me into sitting and standing up. All such attempts left me in worse shape than ever.
Not one of the doctors or nurses actually touched my back or even told me what was going on. My mother and sister were waiting out in the waiting room and no one told them anything, either. Only when I asked to see my mother at 1:00 in the morning did someone finally tell her something, and even that wasn't much. My sister had an exam first thing on Wednesday morning, so the nurse finally said that I would likely be staying the night and that my mother could head home.
Finally, at about 9:30 in the morning on Wednesday, my own family doctor was in on rounds and came to see me. He actually examined my back and had me immediately admitted to the hospital. He also had the nurses and the night doctor stop making me try to stand up, which was actually making me worse and worse.
They took me up to a room around lunch time, finally getting me out of the exact spot in the hallway where the paramedics had left me the previous evening. I was entirely unable to sit up or move my arms and legs until late Wednesday afternoon, when a physiotherapist came by and worked with me a little.
Thursday saw me actually stand up and take one or two shaky steps with the aid of a walker -- just enough to make it onto a commode chair so that I could be wheeled into the bathroom. Even though I still had to suffer the indignity of having a nurse standing right there to wheel me to and from the toilet, at least it was the end of the bedpans. Late last night, I progressed to actually walking all the way to the bathroom on my own, which in and of itself boosted my spirits to no end.
Finally, this morning I managed the walk down the hallway and up, then back down, two steps, which satisfied the physiotherapist as to my ability to manage once I got home. So they discharged me.
And here I am. I've managed a very short shower and changed into all clean clothes and I'm lying in my mother's bed (because my bed is utterly shot and we think might have contributed to this onset of back issues). It is amazing what so little can do to boost your spirits -- just having clean hair and not having a witness when I pee is making me feel a thousand times better.
Anyway, I'm going to be starting out-patient physio next week, until which time I am to lie down a lot, stand and walk a little, and sit almost not at all.
As per my doctor's orders, I am currently flat on my back in bed, stoned to the gills on pain killers and muscle relaxants, and am marathoning episodes of First Monday, which isn't really all that bad a show. I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit.
It is so, so, so nice to be home.
On Tuesday, my mother went in to get orthoscopic knee surgery. My father had to go out of town in the afternoon, so he drove her in to the hospital and waited during the operation, then I spelled him off so he could head out. I picked up my mother and took her home to look after her.
All went well, until dinner time. I was bringing up my mother's dinner from the kitchen to her bedroom when my lower back began to ache. I've been having difficulties with my back for the past week and a half, so I wasn't really surprised. I decided to lay down for a bit, wait for it to pass. A little while later, the dogs barked, wanting to be let out. I tried to get up, but my entire back seized and I literally fell over. I tried to crawl and couldn't even manage that. I have never been in so much pain in my entire life.
After about forty minutes of trying to move -- to crawl, even -- all I had accomplished was to make the pain worse. I was crying and shaking and hyperventilating from it. I was having such strong muscle spasms in my back as to make me lose feeling in my hands and feet, which was an incredibly scary sensation.
So, my mother, who was up and moving quite a bit better than she had expected after having knee surgery that morning, called an ambulance. Some very nice paramedics came and scooped me up on a backboard and drove me to the hospital. Then they stuck me on a gurney in the hall of the emergency ward.
Where I remained for twelve hours.
They didn't even give me any pain medication until a spasm had me literally screaming and hyperventilating in their hall, disrupting the nice patients in rooms around me. A doctor drifted by every once and a while, poked at my feet, and went away.
The doctors and nurses on the night shift were so determined not to admit me that they just kept pumping more and more pain killers and muscle relaxants into me, just to get me up and walking enough to justify sending me home. They'd wait a few minutes, then try to push and pull me into sitting and standing up. All such attempts left me in worse shape than ever.
Not one of the doctors or nurses actually touched my back or even told me what was going on. My mother and sister were waiting out in the waiting room and no one told them anything, either. Only when I asked to see my mother at 1:00 in the morning did someone finally tell her something, and even that wasn't much. My sister had an exam first thing on Wednesday morning, so the nurse finally said that I would likely be staying the night and that my mother could head home.
Finally, at about 9:30 in the morning on Wednesday, my own family doctor was in on rounds and came to see me. He actually examined my back and had me immediately admitted to the hospital. He also had the nurses and the night doctor stop making me try to stand up, which was actually making me worse and worse.
They took me up to a room around lunch time, finally getting me out of the exact spot in the hallway where the paramedics had left me the previous evening. I was entirely unable to sit up or move my arms and legs until late Wednesday afternoon, when a physiotherapist came by and worked with me a little.
Thursday saw me actually stand up and take one or two shaky steps with the aid of a walker -- just enough to make it onto a commode chair so that I could be wheeled into the bathroom. Even though I still had to suffer the indignity of having a nurse standing right there to wheel me to and from the toilet, at least it was the end of the bedpans. Late last night, I progressed to actually walking all the way to the bathroom on my own, which in and of itself boosted my spirits to no end.
Finally, this morning I managed the walk down the hallway and up, then back down, two steps, which satisfied the physiotherapist as to my ability to manage once I got home. So they discharged me.
And here I am. I've managed a very short shower and changed into all clean clothes and I'm lying in my mother's bed (because my bed is utterly shot and we think might have contributed to this onset of back issues). It is amazing what so little can do to boost your spirits -- just having clean hair and not having a witness when I pee is making me feel a thousand times better.
Anyway, I'm going to be starting out-patient physio next week, until which time I am to lie down a lot, stand and walk a little, and sit almost not at all.
As per my doctor's orders, I am currently flat on my back in bed, stoned to the gills on pain killers and muscle relaxants, and am marathoning episodes of First Monday, which isn't really all that bad a show. I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit.
It is so, so, so nice to be home.
