I had an unfortunate incident on my last visit to hospital for so-called “routine day surgery”.
Somewhere, somehow, the routine went wrong. The day turned into weeks. And counting.
After being last on the list into theatre, I woke up in Recovery to discover that not all of me had recovered. My right foot felt asleep. Make that my entire leg from the knee down.
The nurses were at a loss to explain what had happened, the doctor apparently didn’t think it serious enough to visit in the wee small hours of the morning to investigate, and the hospital seemed a little less than enthusiastic to let others know what was afoot (pun fully intended) so simply stuck me in a room at the end of the corridor and left me to it. Not even a name above my bed.
I wasn’t happy with that arrangement for some strange reason, and kept on asking to see someone, anyone, who might be able to tell me what was going on.
After the physio took a look, to no avail, my surgeon did his post-op visit, and the neurologist was called. He immediately diagnosed ‘foot drop’ at the very least and suspected a nerve had been pinched in my spine in the time I was under anaesthetic.
As the condition can be permanent and bring about other problems, and in order to see if more surgery was on the cards for me, the neurologist thought an MRI was in order. Easier said than done.
Since the very reason the imaging was ordered was due to my lack of mobility, the logistics of getting me to the MRI machine were pretty involved.
After going through the motions of my morning shower (which for the best for all concerned I won’t go into here) I had to manoeuvre myself out of bed into a wheelchair for my friendly transport driver to, well, transport me. Down the lift, clutching a vomit bag as my newly-discovered motion sickness kicked in, and into the ambulance where he loaded and locked me into the back, then left me shivering for a few minutes with all doors open while he went back in for more VBags…just in case. (Just quietly, I love these things- best thing since sliced bread- I buy them in bulk for my son’s adverse reaction to a certain medication, children’s travel sickness, the list is endless!)
Things got a whole lot more interesting once we got to the medical centre. Due to their regulations the wheelchair I was in could not go into the actual imaging room- I had to use one of theirs- so I was wheeled off to a changing cubicle with just a threadbare curtain separating me from the technicians in the room and informed I needed to take off everything except my knickers and put on yet another inglorious paper gown.
In the process, I had to transfer myself from the wheelchair to a little bench seat, get changed, somehow doing up the gown at the back, then pull another (OH&S-approved) wheelchair into the cubicle and wriggle into that. Of course I did the age-old female trick of whipping the bra off out my sleeves at the last minute as I really didn’t trust the curtain and quite frankly have bared enough of my bod in recent days.
When I got my breath back the tech wheeled me into the waiting MRI machine where I then had to get up onto the teeny tiny table. Lifting myself up with a muttered “Stupid right leg” the assistant asked me “Is that the medical terminology for your condition?” “No, it’s the layperson’s term,” I replied, “usually accompanied by an expletive or two.” Still laughing he left me lying on a table that definitely made my butt look big.
Once done, I had to repeat the performance and end up back in my original clothes in my original chair so that the original transport driver could transport me back to hospital.
To give you some idea of what was required, imagine if you will a sick and twisted version of the itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini song:
♫ From the bed to the wheelchair, from the wheelchair to the floor, from the floor to the table…I guess there isn’t any more. ♪
At least, there better not be today anyway.
Jx
©2010 & 2011
Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Thursday, August 27, 2009
How Much can a Yogi Bear?
I’ve heard heaps about what Yoga can do for you.
Since I’ve had a lot of trouble getting moving over the past couple of years, I was happy to join in when a couple of mums from school suggested we give it a go. There’s safety in numbers after all.
The workout started with me wriggling into gym tights that have sat on the shelf a little too long, if you know what I mean. I’d already worked up a small sweat just pulling the leggings up, but at least I got a head start on the warm up routine.
The first inkling that the class itself was going to prove interesting was when the lady alongside us asked that we move our mats over in case anyone got kicked in the head. I thought that was rather ambitious, as the chances of me getting my legs higher than my own knees were a whole lot slimmer than the lady making the request (I didn’t realise I’d signed up for the skinny minny class- my bad).
Unfortunately, the subsequent shift to the left parked me right alongside the abandoned bags and footwear of the other participants; a fact which became painfully obvious as soon as we started the deep breathing exercises. Someone needed some odour eaters, and how!
If my eyes weren’t watering from the very effort of putting myself into the positions being ably demonstrated up the front of the room, they certainly were whenever the instructor said ”Now roll your head over to the left and take a deep breath in.”
By the time we reached the part where we tried breathing through alternate nostrils (to involve the mind and invoke a better intake of oxygen, don’t you know)- I found it easier to only partake of half the exercise, inhaling only on one side…the one farthest from the shoes.
So there was great rejoicing on my part when we moved from the floor to our feet, and even the indignity of being the only one needing to call out “Timber!” whilst in the tree position didn’t worry me nearly as much as the thought of more mat work.
I must admit, I was feeling pretty good about myself as the class progressed- I even managed to touch my toes at one stage which proved highly motivational for someone who has trouble seeing her feet from time to time. It’s reassuring to know they’re still there, at any rate.
But my confidence only went so far, and at one point I felt I was channelling Yoda moreso than doing Yoga: getting everything backwards I was.
While I was leaning to the left everyone else was off to the right. Or I was saluting the sun while the rest of them were doing the downward dog. Worst was when I was bum up while all the others were head down. Not a good look for a beginner, I can tell you, especially in tight tights.
I bravely struggled through, and am proud to say I completed the entire hour and a half without once whimpering out loud.
Even though by the end of class, I was half passed out from the chloroform effect of the joggers beside me, yet barely able to move myself away from the offending odours, as my lower back reminded me of why I was there in the first place- it seized up and I found myself still making like a snake long after everyone else was upright.
I’m happy to report though, that I completed the class and even earned congratulations from the instructor.
I was happier still when the others suggested we hit the closest café for coffee and cake.
So, home I come, feeling better for giving it a go and able to report that I am feeling the effects already- even if it’s pain instead of pleasure at this stage.
Who knows, by this time next year, I might be flexible enough to kick that lady in the head after all. Especially if I find out it was her shoes alongside me.
Jx
©2009
Since I’ve had a lot of trouble getting moving over the past couple of years, I was happy to join in when a couple of mums from school suggested we give it a go. There’s safety in numbers after all.
The workout started with me wriggling into gym tights that have sat on the shelf a little too long, if you know what I mean. I’d already worked up a small sweat just pulling the leggings up, but at least I got a head start on the warm up routine.
The first inkling that the class itself was going to prove interesting was when the lady alongside us asked that we move our mats over in case anyone got kicked in the head. I thought that was rather ambitious, as the chances of me getting my legs higher than my own knees were a whole lot slimmer than the lady making the request (I didn’t realise I’d signed up for the skinny minny class- my bad).
Unfortunately, the subsequent shift to the left parked me right alongside the abandoned bags and footwear of the other participants; a fact which became painfully obvious as soon as we started the deep breathing exercises. Someone needed some odour eaters, and how!
If my eyes weren’t watering from the very effort of putting myself into the positions being ably demonstrated up the front of the room, they certainly were whenever the instructor said ”Now roll your head over to the left and take a deep breath in.”
By the time we reached the part where we tried breathing through alternate nostrils (to involve the mind and invoke a better intake of oxygen, don’t you know)- I found it easier to only partake of half the exercise, inhaling only on one side…the one farthest from the shoes.
So there was great rejoicing on my part when we moved from the floor to our feet, and even the indignity of being the only one needing to call out “Timber!” whilst in the tree position didn’t worry me nearly as much as the thought of more mat work.
I must admit, I was feeling pretty good about myself as the class progressed- I even managed to touch my toes at one stage which proved highly motivational for someone who has trouble seeing her feet from time to time. It’s reassuring to know they’re still there, at any rate.
But my confidence only went so far, and at one point I felt I was channelling Yoda moreso than doing Yoga: getting everything backwards I was.
While I was leaning to the left everyone else was off to the right. Or I was saluting the sun while the rest of them were doing the downward dog. Worst was when I was bum up while all the others were head down. Not a good look for a beginner, I can tell you, especially in tight tights.
I bravely struggled through, and am proud to say I completed the entire hour and a half without once whimpering out loud.
Even though by the end of class, I was half passed out from the chloroform effect of the joggers beside me, yet barely able to move myself away from the offending odours, as my lower back reminded me of why I was there in the first place- it seized up and I found myself still making like a snake long after everyone else was upright.
I’m happy to report though, that I completed the class and even earned congratulations from the instructor.
I was happier still when the others suggested we hit the closest café for coffee and cake.
So, home I come, feeling better for giving it a go and able to report that I am feeling the effects already- even if it’s pain instead of pleasure at this stage.
Who knows, by this time next year, I might be flexible enough to kick that lady in the head after all. Especially if I find out it was her shoes alongside me.
Jx
©2009
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