3 Days after Surgery

I'm scheduled to be released today but once again several things have to fall into place before this can occur.  As usual, a resident is the first person at my bedside other than the nurse.  He had called me prior to admission asking if I would be willing to participate in study.  He hands me the necessary paperwork in a green folder, which includes a consent form, a pre-operative survey and a milestone diary. He speculates that I won't be released much before early afternoon, although a nurse has told me it could be as early as 11 a.m.

A new physical therapist enters the room, the same bearded guy with a yarmulke who participated in the educational session I attended.   He again quizzes me on my THP and asks me to walk for him using crutches instead of a walker.   During our journey to the end of the hall he asks me what I do.  It astonishes me that not only is he familiar with 9/11 health issues, he fully supports Senate passage of the legislation that has been heating up in the final days of Congress's lame duck session.  

"You just made it to Park Avenue," he says.  Then he takes me into a room and teaches me how to climb stairs.  I ascend by placing my good leg on the step first, and descend with the bad leg first.  "Remember, heaven is up, hell is down," he says.  Next, he times me as I get up out of a chair, using the arms, walking about 20 feet with my crutches and returning."  I do it quickly enough earn his approval for my release.

Magda and Zoltan show up around noon bearing huge cookies.  My roommate, who also expects to be released and who has informed me that we are expected to have bowel movements before we go, notices that she's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt.  When he gets up to use the bathroom, they have a 10-minute conversation which ends with Jarvis suggesting that we all stay in touch.  Shortly after Magda and Zoltan leave to pick up some lunch, I hear Jarvis call to his mother, who peeks in.  "I just delivered twins!" he announces.  TMI.

Patience isn't my strong suit and time seems to have stopped still.  A vendor delivers my walker, crutches, a hip cushion, an elevated commode that permits me to observe my THP  and several implements that are designed to increase my self sufficiency, including an odd looking device to help me put on my socks.  A nurse comes in with very specific instructions about my coumadin intake, which will require blood testing and monitoring by Dr. Reimers for the next couple of weeks.  Finally, the last thing falls into place:  a representative of North Shore/Long Island Jewish Healthcare System, which has absorbed the St. Vincent's visiting nurse service, explains that I'm eligible for home visits from a nurse and a physical therapist.  She gets slightly flustered when I mention that I plan to spend the holiday in New Jersey because they don't offer service there, but I assure her I will do everything to coordinate the home visits around my schedule.

Now all that's left to do is to get dressed.  I'm able to do everything except tie my shoes.  A rush of gratitude envelops me when I see Magda and Zoltan loaded with everything.  The hospital insists that I use a wheelchair to leave the premises.  The three of us walk to Park Avenue, my 2nd trip of the day.  Magda hails a cab and I strictly follow the procedure for getting into an automobile, placing my hip cushion on the front seat, and backing in while gripping the dashboard with my left hand and using my right hand to lift my leg into the cab.  The hospital had recommended using an ambulette for $70.  The cab ride to West 88th Street cost me only $10.

I'm able to climb 2 flights of stairs--the thing that had worried me most ever since I resigned myself to hip replacement surgery--with absolutely no trouble.  Magda and Zoltan get me settled, including removing my shoes, and pick up my prescriptions for coumadin and percoset before leaving.  I make a salad, microwave some leftover linguini and clam sauce and watch TV for a little while with a bag of frozen peas pressed against my hip.  I go to sleep confident that my usual 2-3 nightly trips to the bathroom won't be a problem because I made sure to salvage my trusty urine bottle.