Today I had a minor little surgery on my wrist. I would call it a procedure but it turned out to be a little more surgery-like than I anticipated. For example, when they took me back to the OR instead of an exam room, and asked me about 10 times the last time I had food or drink as though they could smell the chocolate on my breath, and put a surgical cap on me, and placed 2 IVs, and an Anesthesiologist introduced herself, I started to think that maybe I should have followed my NPO instructions a bit better. I was supposed to be NPO at 7am, but I got up at 7:30. I had to eat…and have coffee…and a snack. It was more like 9am, or maybe just a little later. And I didn’t think one square of chocolate before leaving for the doctor’s office would hurt anything because chocolate melts and things that melt are emptied from your stomach faster leaving less risk for aspiration. Right? I’m sure I’ve read that.
People tell me all the time that they could never do my job, that it takes a special type of person to be a nurse. I work with so many different personality types that I always think Of course you could. Nurses are not the angels they are perceived to be. Today, I realized that its true, not anyone could be a nurse. It really does take a little bit of sacrifice and ability to anticipate the needs of someone else. Not everyone is capable of that. Take Steve for example….
Steve brought me home, talked on his cell phone the entire time because I was interrupting his busy day at work and people were calling him, he locked me outside in the back yard, and when he let me back in, he slapped me on the ass and left for work again.
My restrictions are self limited but I have a clunky partial cast and ACE wrap on my hand and forearm. I cant do much with my right hand, and right after we left the doc’s office, it was starting to hurt to even wiggle my fingers.
After Steve left, I was starving. Remember, I was NPO since 7am(ish). He left me with 6 bags of groceries to unpack, no lunch prepared, and hurting as the numbing medication was wearing off.
First, I tried to make lunch, but with one hand I couldn’t even spread peanut butter on bread. So, I ate carrots, grapes, and chocolate dipped in peanut butter.
Then, I wanted my Vicodin. Guess what? It is child proofed and with one hand I couldn’t open the bottle. I texted Steve that he was a bad word and I couldn’t open my pain meds. His response: Use my vise in the basement. Luckily, a neighbor was home and she aided me.
Now, with Peanut Butter, Vicodin, and Heineken, I am pain free, in a much better mood, and able to type with both hands. That’s all it took. Not too much to ask…if my loving husband had stuck around to hear me asking.