Recovery Road

Since so many people have been asking about Chris, I figured an update via the blog would be the best way to get the word out about yesterday’s adventure.  Yeah, I said it.  It was an adventure.

The surgery was done at an out-patient surgical center adjacent to a local hospital, so everything was really easy when we arrived.  Chris checked in, changed into a sexy robe (sorry, he wouldn’t let me take pictures of the hotness), talked with the doctor, and walked his happy ass to the operating room.  The anticipated time of surgery would be 1.5 hours max, so while doc was doing his thing and Chris was sleeping, I sat in the lobby and worked the whole time.  Two hours into working, I realized that the time of the surgery was running longer than expected, so I started to get a little antsy.  Luckily, a few minutes later, the doc came out to give me an update.

The surgery itself went really well.  It took longer because there was more crap in his knee than they expected, so they had to do some serious removal of debris.  It’s fascinating how the human body works when it recognizes a foreign object.  I’ll spare you the pictures, but it was incredible to see the pockets of tissue that were created as direct result to the screw that came loose.  Also, the offending screw that caused all of this fell apart bit by bit as the doc tried to pull it out, so that took additional time as well.  If only it would have dissolved in the first place, we never would have been in this situation.

After I talked to the doc, the nurse called me back so I could see Chris, and this my friends, is when shit got real.

As we rounded the corner to his bed, she said, “he’s in a little bit of pain right,” to which I simply replied, “ok.”

Then, they opened the curtain, where I came face to face with the worst feeling in the world —  seeing someone you love like whoa, writhing in pain, and being unable to fix it.

He was clawing and pulling at the cords he was attached to, his eyes were glazed over and staring at the ceiling as he moaned and groaned.  He was yelling f-bombs and hollering that it hurt.  I held his hand, called his name, and tried to calm him down and assure him the nurses were doing all that they could to ease his pain.  He called all of the four nurses “Linda,” and kept asking where the doc was.  Finally, after 30 minutes, and two additional shots into his IV, the pain went from a nine to a five.

And this is when I finally exhaled.

Doc came over, and Chris asked him if he amputated his leg and if that’s why it hurt so much.  Doc tried to explain what he did, but Chris was in lala land, so Doc said peace out and he’d see us next week for the post-op appointment.  It made me laugh a little bit, actually.

Then, things got more interesting.  He was becoming more lucid, coming out of the general anesthesia and feeling pretty good from the pain meds.  He was sitting up a little bit at this point, so the nurse thought giving him something to drink would be a good idea.  He was the only one in recovery, so we had all of the nurses to ourselves, and when one of them asked what he wanted, he yelled “MILLER LITE!”  The nurses laughed, and then he started chanting:  “MILLER LITE!  MILLER LITE!  MILLER LITE!”  Then he started talking about cheeseburgers and El’s (a burger place on the coast of NC).

After 2.5 hours in post-op, he was feeling good and desperately wanted to go home.  He must have said he wanted to go home at least 65 times in those 2.5 hours.  Point taken, love.

We loaded him up in the car, comfortably stretched out in the backseat, and swung by CVS on the way home to pick up more pain meds to get us through the next few days.  We were in and out of the CVS drive-thru and as we sat at a stoplight to head home, Chris told me to go straight through the intersection instead of the right I was planning on taking.  Because he had just had surgery, I thought I’d appease him, so when the light turned green, I went his way, and went straight through the intersection.

Halfway through, Chris whacked me across the back and upper right part of my shoulder.  I yelled “WHAT THE HELL, DUDE?”  I was thinking, “Jesus, he’s really happy I went his way, but shit, that HURT.”    Then, I heard it.

::  SPLASH ::

I looked over my shoulder, and I saw it.  The door was open, his head was hanging out of the side of the car, and he was throwing up in the middle of the street WHILE THE CAR WAS MOVING.  Thank god there was a shopping center a foot from the incident, I was able to pull over and let him barf again in the parking lot (thank god he only had soda in his tummy).    We were a show.  After the barfing, we both starting laughing.  It was so ridiculous.  He whacked me on the back because he went from FINE to BARF in zero seconds and had no time to tell me.  I wonder what those cars stopped at the red light were thinking when they saw a moving car with a person hanging out of it throwing up driving across the street.

Last night was pretty decent.  He was feeling well enough to watch some Olympics and he went to bed feeling pretty good.  The meds all wore off by 4am, though, and the pain was intense.  We were up and down most of the night trying to get him comfortable, but he had a fever, the pain wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t really sleep.  I gave up at 8am and just decided to start my day.

Chris went back to sleep while I worked.


So, long story short, it’s been an eventful 24 hours.  Chris was able to finally get some rest throughout the day today, thank god.   I picked up crutches so he  can move around easier, and he’s eating again, which is a good sign.  :)  He’s comfy on the couch for now, and I’m optimistic that things will start to be on the up and up by Saturday.  I feel like tonight and tomorrow might continue to be rough, but hopefully by the weekend, he’ll be on the upswing.

Thanks for all the positive thoughts and loving words!  I will leave you with a funny poem my mom sent us today after hearing all about our adventures.  :) 

The Wayward Huzby, by B.L. Brown

He moved wrong, he turned wrong, he bent wrong

It was that bum knee, which he knew all along

A screw did its job from years ago, entirely too well

Never quitting that knee, not dissolving, it swelled

The doctor chop chopped, out came the screw

And out came some other disgusting stuff too

Then he cried out, “It’s a 10!  It’s a fucking 10”

Everyone nodded, his Olympic votes now in

Oh no, wasn’t votes, he was saying a 10 for pain

Hop hop went the nurses, more meds he did gain

Safe to take home now, during which he did barf

As he thrust out his head and almost fell out of the car

Meds and sleep, meds and sleep, much less pain

That Huzby of hers, with his knees now the same

Just remember when driving, your man in the back seat

Lock him in that car, so you don’t lose him to the street


3 thoughts on “Recovery Road

  1. Pingback: How We Got Here | All in Good Time

  2. Pingback: Anniversary Planning | All in Good Time

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