A wild and crazy day yesterday. We checked in for Lauren's surgery at noon. She decided on the "rootbeer flavor" for her drift off mask with the sleepy medicine. And then we waited... and waited... and waited.
Fortunately, we were able to wait with the family of Lauren’s friend. Nicole is another girl at the Ronald McDonald House who had her “big” surgery yesterday. So while it wasn’t fun to be there, it was nice to pass the time in the waiting room with friendly faces.
At 7:30 p.m. we received a call from the OR to tell us that the old, broken plate was out and new hardware was still being installed. It sounded strange to me, like they were renovating something other than Lauren’s leg. They “installed” thicker, longer plates and new screws. The new metalwork goes further up her leg toward her hip, so her scar will be even longer and “cooler,” according to Lauren. She’s such a positive girl! True to form, she woke up early-ish in the recovery room, but we still didn’t see her for hours.
Dr. Chappie, her primary orthopedic surgeon, came to chat with us around 8:00pm. He looked like someone had worked him over with a tube sock full of oranges after pulling an all-nighter. His face was drawn, something close to a tired grimace. He had been working side by side on both girls (Lauren and Nicole) for hours on end. I was a little frazzled, though. Chappie spent only 20 seconds or so with us. Seriously. He was still working on Nicole and broke free to give us a quick status. In addition to the new plate and reinforcing screws, they removed her pins that secured the old plate to the bone nearest her knee. However, they replaced the pins with screws that, according to Chappie, will stay in. ?!? We don’t know if this means that he has given up on her growth plate on that side or not. In his delivery, tone, and body language, the surgeon didn’t allow for any questions. He told us curtly that he’d come see us Friday. We’re using the time to write down a long list of questions. He’s not going to get off easy from this set of parents. J
A little later we received the hospital room number, an overflow room for orthopedic surgery on the 4th floor of Giraffe building. In the parking garage, we ran into Marsha, who came to visit Lauren after work. Great timing! We loaded up all the stuff for our hospital stay and made ourselves at home in the room while we waited for Lauren to come up from recovery. It’s not so bad to be in the overflow room. It means that the rounding doctors come a little later, after they’re finished with the 3rd floor. That means we don’t have to face the drove of docs until about 6:30 a.m. (Usually it’s between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m.—too damn early in the morning.) Another bit of good news was seeing that the charge nurse was able to room Lauren and Nicole together. Although we had requested this arrangement, we were told that rooms were tight. Both girls were expecting an infant roommate. Fortunately, they were able to put the babies together so that the girls could be together. Definitely a quieter arrangement this way for all involved.
Lauren arrived around 10:00 p.m., awake but a little groggy. The first order of business was to put on the piggy hat. It’s like a comfort companion, a furry pink hug for her head. She was snuggled up with another big stuffed bunny, so it looks like Babs and Willow (her other stuffed rabbits) will have company. She hasn’t named the new one yet, but it’s a lop-eared bunny with plushy reddish brown fur. The transport nurse told us that Lauren had received extra fluids and some blood products during surgery. She was also on oxygen. Marsha kept us company for several hours. I say “us,” but of course Lauren was out after about 10 minutes in the room.
Sometime during the night, Lauren spiked a fever of 103. They drew labs and gave her something to bring down the temperature. She was still at 103 when they came back to check her vitals an hour or so later. They told me that the fever could be surgery-related or as a result of the blood she received during surgery. Regardless, it made for a restless night. Lauren has a PCA machine (patient controlled analgesia) filled with morphine. When she needs it, she pushes the button and gets a controlled dose for her weight. If the PCA doesn’t do it, they have a few other things to give her for more acute pain. She had a few doses of Ativan for muscle spasms last night and two “up and above” boluses of morphine.
I drifted off and came to a few hours later when the doctors showed up for rounds. Surprisingly, they didn’t have much to say and couldn’t really answer any questions. I’m sure Chappie will show on Friday. If he doesn’t, I’ll greet him with a real tube sock full of oranges. (Not sure what I mean about the oranges? Here’s the bit from Urban Dictionary: “A sock, preferably a white, tube sock variety, filled with oranges. Two oranges are best, with a maximum of three per sock. The sock full of oranges is useful for beating someone because it will not leave a bruise. Used by the marines for punishment,”). So the doctors who showed up did a routine check: asked her to wiggle toes, checked her chart, looked at (but didn’t unwrap) her leg, and reviewed the surgical notes. I could have sworn that it was a middle-school tour; not one of the doctors looked old enough to drive.
I crashed for another few hours, waking with a bunny to the head. Lauren was up around 8:00 a.m. and surprised me with her stellar aim. She asked for my phone, but passed out again after I gave it to her. I slept for another hour or so. When I woke up, Lauren was chatting up her nurse. I grabbed my phone and was shocked to see that she had posted something to FaceBook:
I finally woke up completely. Nurse just gave me a great dose of pain meds. My leg hurts real bad and feels like a hundred pounds. I got a good amount of sleep, sadly mom can’t say the same. Poor mommy. L
She’s thinking of ME. What a lovie.
Nicole woke up and the girls were able to chat for a bit. The other girl was worried because she couldn’t move her leg, but Lauren assured her that it had to do with the epidural. “Trust me,” she told Nicole, “you don’t really want to feel your leg right now.” After just a few minutes, both girls were dozing again.
And so here I sit, still in my pajamas with something ridiculous on the TV. Lauren was flipping randomly before she fell asleep and has a death grip on the remote. Lord help me, it’s The 700 Club. Pat Robertson is interviewing a woman with a dog. He’s got a ridiculous grin on his face. As a sleep-deprived observation, I notice that both Pat and the dog have impressive jowls. I think I will try, again, to turn off the TV. If this doesn’t work, my only defense will be to keep the volume at zero. One thing is certain: The 700 Club will inspire some reading on my part, instead of falling into a sitcom or crime show.
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