Five to Ten part II
After the numbing walk back to the hospital, we (Mom and I) were headed to dinner, I wanted to take advantage of something other than the normal... I showered and cleaned up,and got ready as fast as I could. A shower that I regretted taking for a long time. After I got cleaned up and was ready and excited for some real food, my Mom looked at my incision site and found puss. A nurse had walked past and we showed her.
Immediately plans changed. I was no longer, free to come and go, I was on lock down. The charge nurse was notified, and immediately the neurological team was called, and I was placed on standby until the neuro team could examine the incision. My hopes at a good dinner were smashed.
The neuro team came and not only examined the incision site, but discharged me from the rehabilitation unit, had me re admitted to acute care, and scheduled for an infection wash out the following morning.
As explained to me, a washout, is a rather quick and simple procedure, where the check for and clean any infected area. I was told that it wouldn't take more than an hour and that I would be back in acute care within a couple hours.
This is where a huge ongoing nightmare began. My poor wife was still home with the kids, and got a rough play-by-play, as we were moved back to the surgical floor. She wanted to quickly make the drive, but the doctors kept reassuring us, "This is a quick and easy procedure, you will be back in your room on your feet super fast." So I did my best to reassure her, not to make the trip, and that the procedure is very minimal.
Little did we know, four hour of intense surgery, to include a portion of my skull completely removed. A titanium mesh plate screwed into place, and a bunch of infected skin cut away, and my pony tail was put into place, (a JP Drain). My tiara was officially polished. I had four brand new shiny staples placed randomly, to replace the twenty that were removed three days prior; and some huge, bright blue, bailing wire gage sutures. That wasn't even the scary part. I am extremely sensitive to anesthesia, which is apart of the story for later.
Just before I was to be moved to post-op, I was given a dose of my best friend fentanyl. I spent the next six hours, still in post-op, needing a reminder to breathe.
So of course by the time I was even remotely responsive, my poor wife could have easily made the trip to be there. Instead she was in the dark for "a quick, just over an hour," procedure.
I'm taking a minute to recognize my amazing wife. She has endured more than I have. She now has five kids instead of four. She is the rock that gets us through. It's no wonder she is exhausted. I love you wife.
The next few posts will be about the ridiculousness, of identifying several new problems brought about, and trying to get back to rehab, and back out of the hospital bed.
-Nate Taylor
Immediately plans changed. I was no longer, free to come and go, I was on lock down. The charge nurse was notified, and immediately the neurological team was called, and I was placed on standby until the neuro team could examine the incision. My hopes at a good dinner were smashed.
The neuro team came and not only examined the incision site, but discharged me from the rehabilitation unit, had me re admitted to acute care, and scheduled for an infection wash out the following morning.
As explained to me, a washout, is a rather quick and simple procedure, where the check for and clean any infected area. I was told that it wouldn't take more than an hour and that I would be back in acute care within a couple hours.
This is where a huge ongoing nightmare began. My poor wife was still home with the kids, and got a rough play-by-play, as we were moved back to the surgical floor. She wanted to quickly make the drive, but the doctors kept reassuring us, "This is a quick and easy procedure, you will be back in your room on your feet super fast." So I did my best to reassure her, not to make the trip, and that the procedure is very minimal.
Little did we know, four hour of intense surgery, to include a portion of my skull completely removed. A titanium mesh plate screwed into place, and a bunch of infected skin cut away, and my pony tail was put into place, (a JP Drain). My tiara was officially polished. I had four brand new shiny staples placed randomly, to replace the twenty that were removed three days prior; and some huge, bright blue, bailing wire gage sutures. That wasn't even the scary part. I am extremely sensitive to anesthesia, which is apart of the story for later.
Just before I was to be moved to post-op, I was given a dose of my best friend fentanyl. I spent the next six hours, still in post-op, needing a reminder to breathe.
So of course by the time I was even remotely responsive, my poor wife could have easily made the trip to be there. Instead she was in the dark for "a quick, just over an hour," procedure.
I'm taking a minute to recognize my amazing wife. She has endured more than I have. She now has five kids instead of four. She is the rock that gets us through. It's no wonder she is exhausted. I love you wife.
The next few posts will be about the ridiculousness, of identifying several new problems brought about, and trying to get back to rehab, and back out of the hospital bed.
-Nate Taylor
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