Going Out of My Head!

Very early on June 23rd one of Terry's friends drove us to Robert Packer Hospital where I went under the knife to have a couple of aneurysms in my right leg by-passed. Things went smoothly and I spent the next six days in the hospital. I was able to get up and go to the bathroom on my own with the help of a walker almost as soon as I woke up from anesthesia. Perhaps that is why the women from physical therapy and later occupational therapy felt I was advanced enough--especially after moving to a cane on day three--to not warrant their attention or the attention of a rehab facility. 

They and the nurses must have reported to the insurance company that I was an overachiever. The Carleton over in Wellsboro had a bed for me on Friday but when the insurance company balked at making a decision, I stayed in the hospital over the weekend. Word finally came on Monday that insurance wouldn't cover a stay in a rehab facility and that I would go home on Tuesday instead.

Tuesday was the day Terry was scheduled to get an epidural for her very sore hip. She would need a driver as would I. Her cousin Joe--my fishing buddy--stepped in. 

Going home meant I would have some visiting healthcare providers. Someone would come to check on the incisions and make sure they were healing properly. Someone would come to do physical therapy with me. And someone would come to do occupational therapy, i.e. make sure I could dress myself, clean myself, and in general care for myself. The health care provider has been coming round twice a week although he's cutting back to once a week for the next two weeks. The PT person came once, watched me walk around a bit and said she couldn't think of anything she could help me with. (A few more exercises would have helped. But I've been down this road before and can figure out what I need to do.) The occupational therapist called and, when she told me what she would do, I politely said I can already do all those things and she never came out to the house.

I went back to see the vascular team two weeks after the surgery to have them examine the incisions and to have half the staples removed. Taking out every other staple meant removing about 25 of them. Approximately that many remain along with an equal number of sutures. I go back on the 22nd of July to have them taken out.

Until then, I've promised not to drive until I can comfortably press down on the brake pedal. I've promised not to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. And I've hired someone to cut the grass. (If it ever stops raining long enough!) And I've promised not to pick up a chainsaw until at least labor day.