dcnovice
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July 28, 2014
What I Did on My Summer Vacation
Dear Ones ---
Somehow I made it through elementary school without ever being assigned this classic composition topic. So I’ll make up for it now.
Beaches beckoned. Cruises called. Waterfalls wooed. Exotic cities caught my attention. And I rebuffed them all. Instead, I opted for a staycation here in the nation’s capital.
Emphasis on “stay.” The past month brought a pair of hospital stays: first at Georgetown University Hospital and then at the National Rehabilitation Hospital. Thursday was the first time I’d seen my apartment since June 25th. “Home” is now my favorite four-letter word.
I’m sorry about the relative radio silence. Sitting was verboten, and I never found reclining position that worked for computing. When I finally thought to raise my bedside table to create a standing desk, I had trouble connecting to the hospital’s WiFi. I’m grateful to my wonderful brother for providing bulletins as events unfolded.
All signs thus far suggest that surgery was a success. Incisions closed nicely, with no sign of infection. Fluid drained tidily into a little plastic flask rather than lingering inside me and causing trouble. And my recovery has been hastened by a great stroke of luck.
A key part of the surgery plan was to create a “flap,” or tissue mass to fill the space once occupied by my rectum and anus. The flap would ensure blood flow to the area and keep higher-up organs from dropping. Everyone originally assumed that the flap would be made of muscle, grafted from either my abdomen or my thigh.
When the plastic surgeon dove into my innards, however, she found enough fleshy, fatty tissue, adequately supplied with blood, to create the flap out of that. I think it’s the first—and probably last—time my fat has been a blessing to me! Not having to recover from a muscle graft was, I’m told a huge help.
My surgery lasted twelve hours, and, as predicted, I awoke from it in the ICU. I spent a few days there, but my memory of them is blurry, thanks to the medley of chemicals swirling on my head. I was then transferred to a regular surgical unit for a week or so. As ever, the caring nature of folks—notably nurses, who, I’m convinced, go straight to heaven—at Mother Georgetown was a godsend.
From Georgetown, I went—via ambulance-borne stretcher, given the no-sitting rule—to the National Rehabilitation Hospital to regain some of my strength. I was there for about a fortnight. NRH was tough. After Georgetown, the patient-care staff seemed matter-of-fact, even indifferent at times. And the panoply of human suffering was overwhelming. I think every third patient lacked a limb; others struggled to recover even gross motor skills or speech. I long ago quit asking “Why me?” but NRH did leave me wondering “Why anyone?”
My days since returning home have been quiet, even dull. I’m now permitted to sit for small stretches but the spider web of sutures on my butt makes actually doing so pretty tough. So I spend too much time lying down, which is oddly tiring. I hope to do more walking around the neighborhood once temperatures drop a bit.
What next? I saw my gastrointestinal surgeon on Friday, and he seemed thrilled with my progress. I’ll see my plastic surgeon tomorrow and hope she feels likewise. I’m hoping to come away with some sense of how soon I can truly sit—and then return to work, which feels like an all-too-distant memory these days.
So that’s what I did on my summer vacation, Miss Dove. Next year, Rehoboth!
As ever, my thanks and love!
Cheers,
DC
< Message edited by dcnovice -- 7/28/2014 3:52:57 PM >
_____________________________
No matter how cynical you become,
it's never enough to keep up.
JANE WAGNER, THE SEARCH FOR SIGNS OF
INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE
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