My interesting outing during the pandemic started with Kathy dropping me off at the Queensway Carleton Hospital at 6:30 am on Feb. 24, 2021, for a total hip replacement. Leaving my car seat elevation cushion on the passenger side for when I’ll come back, I picked up the folded walker and my backpack with a long shoehorn and a “grabber” that helps to pick up items. This gadget has a trigger-like construction at one end that when activated closes jaws at the other end. I used it to pick up clothing with when I cannot not lean down. The brochure on hip replacement was in the backpack along with my meds that I did not take in the morning because I usually eat before I take them, and I could not eat before surgery. Under my winter coat, I wore a shirt with a zippered breast pocket where I put my health card, the only personal item that I was supposed to have in the hospital; had shorts on with sweatpants and loafers without shoelaces for easy put on.
The volunteer at the door inside gave me a mask similar to those sold in boxes at Costco so I had to change my fancier mask I bought at the Canadian Automobile Association; not sure why the other masks are better, but there was no reason to argue about it.
The next stop was the Covid screening and was also short since I told the screener that i was a the QCH last week for my Pre Operative Assessment and nothing had changed. She asked for my name and birthdate and checked me off her list that must have numbered in the hundreds.
Carrying my walker, backpack, I did as she instructed, and followed the blue line on the wall to room number 5, where I was received by a cheerful woman who asked me if I was staying overnight. I said that it was day surgery but was apprehensive about it. She chided me and asked why have a sleepover in a noisy place when I would enjoy much better food at home and a good bed. Once we reconfirmed my name and birthdate again, I put my health card into a glass box in front of the vinyl privacy paneland pushed it towards her. She put on my right wrist a paper bracelet with my name and birth date on it that I kept all day. Then I had to sit in the waiting area of room number 5 that was divided by transparent panels between the chairs to replace distancing.
In a few minutes, a young fellow called my name along with two others and we followed him, appropriately distanced, down the hallway until he opened, with a passkey, the doors to the operating suites. I stood in front of another receptionist and reconfirmed my name and birthdate to make sure that I did not forget who I was.
The series of social interactions was pleasant, the people were friendly and Iwas led into a breakout area that was curtained off and where I was told to undress and put on a hospital gown with the back open. The cheerful young man explained that there was one plastic bag for my clothing and another one for my shoes. He triumphantly pulled out another plastic bag with a Melita type cone attached to it he explained I could use should I vomit on the way home and avoid messing up the car. That was the last thought on my mind at that time, but it was a helpful suggestion.
Lying on the bed with a heated blanket was relaxing until the first of many nurses came along. She introduced herself by her first name and we went through my identity again. But this time, the nurse asked me to verify the spelling of my name as well. I knew what was coming; an IV was inserted close to my left wrist. She explained the veins are better there than further up towards the elbow. I did not know that, because previously, any IVs I had had were inserted further up by my elbow in the fleshy part. She had to dig around in my arm to find the vein – that caused some twitching in my veins- but she was firm and declared success. She suggested I look at the cheerily dropping bubbles coming down the pipe filled with saline solution. I did not know what that was for, perhaps for hydrating? Another thing she wanted to take care of was my wedding ring. She suggested I pull it off since some of the machinery in the operating room may not work well with metal. But it would not come off, after fifty plus years of healthy eating the finger got too fat. So she she wrapped around it two layers of tape.
But that was only the beginning of testing for my vitals and I was immediately hooked up with a blood pressure monitor that kept pressing my right arm every couple of minutes. The IV was in my left arm and the middle finger gained a clip measuring my blood oxygen. The nurse was miffed by my high blood pressure number in the BP column and made me take my daily pill for blood pressure that I had not taken without having food in the morning. She brought apple juice and a couple of cookies to take my pill. After that, she moved a wand around my forehead, going behind my ear to measure my temperature. Then my solicitous nurse went for her breakfast and was replaced by another nurse, who looked at my three-ring binder an inch thick to make sure that all protocols were followed. I noticed that the binder was key to all activities and my vitals were logged in. My friendly nurse returned and we exchanged views on jams. She made her plum jam she had for breakfast with toast. I shared with her that we have concord grapes at home that Kathy makes into jam . I discovered she came from a farm in the Kemptville area. Going through my fat file, she whipped out a sheet on “nerve block” that I had to read.
I was going to get a nerve block in the “Block Room”. That hit me as scary; it sounded like a torture chamber in a medieval castle. And that was in addition to a spinal anaesthetic. I thought that before we are going to the block room i should void myself and was courteously accompanied by a young orderly carrying my saline solution that he hung on a hook in the toilet. I did not have to wait long and was pushed into the block room by another orderly and where I was received by another nurse who added to my hookups with EKG pads. The block room was narrow and I could hear my next door neighbour talking loudly to her anaesthetist with only a flimsy curtain between us.
I saw Dr. Charles, my surgeon, coming along the glassed corridor, outside, his bald pate shining under the neon lights. Dr. Charles had a purposeful stride, walking with long steps corresponding with his lanky frame that must be around six food five inches tall. He came and greeted me as Mr. Greiner, in contrast to all the other people who called me Andy and used their first name with me. He asked me how I was. I said I was ready but was curious why he was going to use the “lateral” surgical method, in contrast to the “anterior” method, where the recovery is much faster. The other advantage of the anterior method is that one can bend down in contrast to the other, which requires that one does not bring the upper body to less than ninety degrees with either legs. He explained that after three months both methods yield the same results and that men are much more stiff than women who benefit from the anterior method. I guess that it is the anatomy or men versus women that makes a difference in which approach to use. That clicked with me, I cannot reach my toes standing up or sitting down and reaching for my toes. Then Dr. Charles showed an interest in whether my legs were of equal length. He said that he could correct for that during surgery. He placed my feet against the back panel of the hospital bed and announced my legs were of the same lengths.
Ari, Dr. Rostas, the anesthetist came in to give me the “nerve block” and said that Dr Abdulla, another anesthetist, will assist him. I was wondering why they need two anesthetists but did not ask. Ari asked me to sit at the edge of the bed and lean forward to bend my spine down and warned me that the liquid he was washing my back was cold. I felt nothing but was sure that he put the needle in my back between the right vertebrates. Concurrently, Dr. Abdulla took out the saline solution pipe and told me he is giving me a cocktail to relax me. He inserted an injection type of object into the IV and pushed on it so hard to get the cocktail into my arm that I felt the pressure of the cocktail coming into my veins. I am sure the cocktail was not alcoholic, but who knows.
Now that I was fully hooked up, an orderly pushed me into the operating room where two people on my left pulled my legs and arm onto the operating table while two others pushed me from behind and asked me to turn sideways so that my right side was up and ready for an incision. By this time I was so preoccupied with all the people and activities that I forgot what happened next until Ari asked me how I was doing. I said fine and asked him where were we with my new hip. He said they were just putting the last clips into me. Wow! That felt good. Except that my body from the waist down was awol. I felt nothing, that was scary. I sent a message to my toe to wiggle but nothing happened. Then I touched my thigh with my hand, and that felt soft but had no feeling in it. Thought I could be dangerous since I could hurt myself without knowing it.
An orderly with a Spanish accent pushed me into the recovery area. He said he was from Venezuela and became an immediate friend noticing that my name was Jose, same as his. I looked down at my paper bracelet on my right wrist and yes, there was not enough space to spell out my middle name in full. That is Joseph and he saw only the Jose name. We connected, but I told him I was from Hungary; that nonplused him; I am sure he was aware Hungary had no Spanish speakers.
Judy, another nurse, took over from him and she immediately put on the equipment for my vital signs. She moved around awand just north of my crown jewels and declared that I had 240 grams of liquid in my bladder and men get the urge to void, a word I like much better than pee or urinate, when they have over 650 grams of liquid. I said that I could hold it for a while but would like to go void soon.
But that could not be done because the mobile xray unit came by and a wholesome young nurse with muscular arms stood next to my bed on the left and rolled me sideways towards her so that the young man accompanying her could insert under me a hard sheet may measure 18 by 24 inches. Once they adjusted the sheet below me, they took a couple of pictures. The xray machine looked like a giant robot with an enormous base – a neck and a block on the top that reminded me of science fiction characters.
The sedation was finally going away, and an orderly pushed me over to my last station in the post-operative unit where I met other nurses again who started with my identity questions. They offered me lunch that I took with pleasure, having not eaten since 7 pm the night before. Next to my bed there was a chalk board on which the nurse drew squares for all the last activities that I was going to go through before I could leave. That included “teaching”, physio, voiding, taking out the IV and then leaving among other items. I was “taught” about all the anti coagulant pills that I will take and all the painkillers. It was time for me to dress up and a young nurse pulled into me my shorts and sweatpants. I felt a bit awkward and mumbled something that she must be used to dressing men. By this time they had called Kathy to pick me up and they took me in a wheelchair to the entrance.
The entire day was a blast, and I counted up to 19 people that I talked with in flesh and blood. It was the most people that I had socialized with in a day for over a year. And for that, I had to have a hip replacement! Note: because of the sedation, I may not have captured the activities in the right order.
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