slomoWhen I got the screw put into Titanium Pinky, I did not say (on the way out of the parking lot), “Let’s go to Costco.”

When I got the screw put into Titanium Pinky, I did not go inside the drug store to get my [unnecessary] pain pill prescription filled. I sat in the car while the GG did it.

When I got the screw put into Titanium Pinky, I did not say, “Let’s eat at Knight’s!” when asked what I wanted for dinner.

When I got the screw put into Titanium Pinky, I did not play cat yard on my phone when I got home.

Before I got the screw put into Titanium Pinky, my only experience with any kind of surgery at all was getting my tonsils out at the age of eight! Going into the Titanium Pinky thing, I had NO CLUE what outpatient surgery meant. Turned out it meant hours of hanging around in a pre-op area with folks getting surgeries of ALL SORTS! And being hooked up to an IV and a whole crapload of monitors, etc. etc. etc. And a neural block. Do y’all know what a neural block is? Ever had one?

I had pictured something where my hand would go to sleep for a couple hours. Oooohhhhh. Nooooooo. Ever have a dead weight for a forearm for 18 hours? I exited that place in a wheel chair. I could actually walk just fine but I was grateful for the ride because it was a long way to the parking lot and I was not accustomed to navigating with a dead arm. I HAD done my regular three mile walk that morning, cast/splint and all. But now… How the hell do I keep this thing from slipping out of its sling? It became truly surreal when an older woman accidentally bumped my wheelchair in the elevator and apologized profusely. How could I explain to her that the bulky thing on my arm was for my LITTLE FINGER and that I was not in any pain.

I did not go inside the drug store to get my pain prescription. I was still figuring out how to manage my dead arm and very embarrassed about having the sling, etc. I did not want anything to eat that night. At least I didn’t know what I wanted to eat. This was partly due to the surgery and partly due to the fact that breaking your little finger can knock your appetite for a loop for a few months. In other words, my appetite was already low or weird or whatever. The GG finally ordered Chinese take-out. I ate some of it. It wasn’t really the right thing but HE was hungry and I probably needed to eat too. Do not get me wrong! I LOVE Chinese take-out food. When we order it for a work party, I am totally into it. Gimme more! That night. Meh.

Then there was the whole thing about how to keep Kayak Woman busy until she can sleep since she is tooooo waaaarrrred to sleep. I knew that I shouldn’t take a long walk somewhere (and didn’t want anyone to seeeeee my dead arm) but I was so restless that I spent a lot of time wandering around the back yard, holding my dead arm up via my other hand hoping the neighbors didn’t see me. And then it was getting dark and I STILL didn’t feel like sleeping. Social media had run its course and I didn’t have a book to read and probably couldn’t have focused on one anyway. What to do? Lizard Breath (via text) suggested TV. Duuuuuuuuhhhhh. What TV? How ’bout Twin Peaks. Uh, yeah! We watched three episodes of Twin Peaks that night. I won’t tell you about the rest of my restless night except that the neural block wore off at around 4AM and that was such a relief! I didn’t think I would ever have the use of my right arm and hand again.

A version of that stuff happened today. All is well and I had a supporting role this time thank whatever gods are out there in the ether.

Love y’all, KW. Cold and snow squalls here.

One Response to “PTSD”

  1. Margaret Says:

    I hope a better version of that happened today, because the original does NOT sound enjoyable!! xoxo