It’s the 4th of July and I’m just starting to see light at the end of an unexpectedly long pain tunnel. Eight days ago, I underwent my second total hip replacement surgery in seven months. Recovery from the first surgery was a breeze compared to this one. Even though my doctor was elated at how clean and easy this second operation went (much like the first one), something was different and within a few hours I had gone down a rabbit hole of startling hurt. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t given the initial meds prescribed as soon as called for after surgery, perhaps it was something else –all I know is that I was reaching 10+ on the pain scale when a physical therapist tried to get me on my feet later that morning. My doctor expressed surprise; I was emotionally and physically devastated.
I had to stay an extra day in the hospital while playing pain level catch-up. It didn’t help that my pain medication prescription stated, “give as needed”, which my doctor meant to mean I could ask for more than the low dose of 5mg of oxyCODONE prescribed if I felt I needed it. Consequently, if I didn’t ask for it at the prescribed time it was not offered. When asked what level of pain I was in, if I answered “0” (it only hurt while trying to get up or using my walker, not when I was lying down with an ice pack) one nurse in particular repeatedly told me I didn’t need it. But I DID need it, very much so.
Never happier to be discharged, my daughter-in-law picked me up and brought me home. My lives-half-a-mile-away grandson was already there waiting to take over my care. Still in a lot of pain when getting up or down, I gladly accepted his gentle, confident caregiving. It isn’t his first rodeo; he was my caregiver last hip surgery. I felt immediate relief as he went about timing my meds, delivering ice packs, making sure I was using my breathalyzer and drinking enough water, making my meals. In the evenings I transfer from the front room couch to join him for dinner in my office/second bedroom to watch the evening news, finishing with the TV series, Fire Country. Bedtime, he tucks me into my own bed, makes sure my humidifier is working, projects stars from a nighttime devise onto the bathroom doorway so I can enjoy them, and choses a sleep story I can listen to, to help me fall asleep.
Yesterday, this 6ft grandson started his summer job as a youth counselor at a local community center. Since he’ll be working afternoons, his younger brother is tag-teaming to help me until I am finally able to be on my own. Equally caring, careful, and competent (he was trained by his older brother!), he’s a lovable addition to my daycare. Honestly, I think it’s been worth it just to experience them both in this capacity.
I’ve got to be one of the luckiest Grams ever!!
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