Getting Better

I'm doing all right. Good enough to sit down and write a blog-post anyway. So here's how it all went down:

On Thursday, January 19 I went down. They tried to twist my arm off in the ER and then sent me home in pain and a splint.

On Friday, January 20 the search for a specialist who can repair a Terrible Triad begins, and ends—or so we think.

On Sunday, January 22 Bruce and I drive to Salt Lake. We hope to consult with the specialist on Monday, have surgery on Tuesday, and go back home to Vernal that afternoon—or maybe go home on Wednesday. We will learn later that have no idea what we're even talking/thinking about.

On Monday, January 23 Dr. Dechet tells us, "There are elbows, and then there are elbows..." She can't repair a Terrible Triad, but she finds us someone who can. Unfortunately we won't be able to consult with Dr. Widmer until next Monday, the 30th. We console ourselves with dinner and a movie, and head back home on Tuesday.

Between Tuesday, the 24th and Monday, the 30th, I get better at doing some things entirely left-handed—basic things like feeding myself, getting dressed (including singlehandedly putting on—and hooking up—my bra!), bathing, and sewing two shirts. Just the necessities...

Here I am, drawing a pattern. The plaid sleeve-roll is holding my ruler down so I can draw a line with my left hand. The blackness in the center-back is my sling; you can kind of see my fingers poking out of the end of it.

On Saturday, the 28th we drove back to Salt Lake. We went and saw Ryan and Ruth Ann sing with the State Honor Choir at Abravanel Hall. We spent the night at my mom's house; Bruce was planning to go home Sunday morning, work Monday and Tuesday, and then come back to Salt Lake for my surgery on Wednesday. But the best-laid plans, and all that... His car would. not. start. on Sunday. We finally decided that this must mean Bruce was supposed to go to my consultation with me on Monday—and he did!

On Monday morning Bruce and my mom and I looked at the cd we got from the ER—the one with my x-rays and CT-scan pictures on it. A little grisly, but pretty cool.

Dr. Widmer was very nice. He confirmed that I have a really, really bad injury, but assured me that he could get my arm to work again. Not "as good as new" because that's not possible, but as good as it can be. He said I would regain most of the movement in my right arm, although I may never be able to completely straighten it again. I will be able to cook, sew, and play the piano again, in time. I am so extremely fortunate to be where—and when—I am. A couple hundred years ago, and in some places even now, the best care I might have gotten was that splint and sling; I might have had a useless arm for the rest of my life!

Bruce posted this photo on facebook as "pre-surgery." Actually this was pre-Bruce-is-leaving, and I was pretty sad.

Well, we got me all pre-registered for surgery and then Bruce borrowed his dad's car and headed home to Vernal, to miss as little work as possible. I stayed behind at my mom's house to wait for My Big Day. While I waited on Tuesday I occupied myself by tracing sewing patterns. I talked to the pre-op nurse, I called to find out what time I should arrive at the hospital (11 a.m.), and I filled out paperwork. My mom could—and would—have filled in the papers for me, but I figured I could write X's into boxes, even with my left hand. And by the time I filled out all the medical history, I figured I'd try writing my own name, too.

It looks like a third-grader wrote it, but it just might be more legible than my regular signature.

Had a nice dinner Tuesday evening, had a Dolly Madison Zinger around 9:00, then brushed my teeth and went to bed. Nothing more to eat or drink until after my operation. (So of course I woke up hungry at 4 a.m.)

At last My Big Day had arrived! Melanie decided to take the day off so she could take me and my mom; they would wait around at the hospital while the medical staff did mean things to me. We three had a fine, jokey time while I waited for my surgery. We even stopped at the store on the way to the hospital to buy Brandon a new tie.

modeling the designer outfit they gave me for the show

This is the real pre-surgery pic. I am giving a thumbs-up–one of the few things I could do with that hand. :-)

Around 1:00 they took me into the O.R.—a freezing cold room, brightly lit, and done up in lovely stainless-steel and white. They got me situated on a slightly padded board, and then shot something into my I.V. that would "make [me] dizzy in about ten seconds." Or less. The last thing I remember about that room was watching the ceiling lights spinning around.

The next thing I remember is a man's voice softly calling, "Loralee, wake up." The second I opened my eyes my right arm was washed in unbearable pain; I started crying. So they started putting pain-killers through the I.V.  I heard them talking about adding one drug at least three times (upping the dose?), plus two other drugs, at least once each, before I felt better. While they worked on controlling my pain, I asked the nurse what time it was.  >3:32.<  I asked again a few minutes later because I couldn't remember if she'd said it was closer to 3:00 or 3:30.  (I guess I really needed to know the time.) Later, as the pain dissipated, the nurses and I got talking about LipSense lip colors, and how nice they are.

This is post-op (a few hours). I actually look a lot better than I was feeling. Just imagine how great I would have looked if I'd been wearing LipSense!  ;-)

Well, Melanie and Mom were waiting for me in my room. I was hungry and pretty wiped out. But I guess we talked a little; I nibbled some toast and sipped water. The nurse brought me some dinner, which I thought I wanted, but felt too icky to eat. Mom and Melanie went home around 5:30...after they knew that Bruce was on his way and would arrive in about an hour. Bruce was The One Person I wanted to see—the one I could cry all over, you know.

The rest of that evening was a blur of aching, sharp pains, extreme nausea, and having to get up and go to the bathroom way too many times. And it turned out that my pain meds made my body so relaxed that my breathing slowed down too much every time I drifted off to sleep. So then my oxygen-level monitor would start beeping and wake me up. Eventually they just kept me on oxygen so I could sleep (in between bathroom breaks and vitals checks. Not much sleep.)

In the morning I finally was able to eat a nice breakfast—Huzzah! I was on schedule with my pain-killers, which made me very sleepy (and still needing to be on oxygen). One medical person after another kept coming in to either check on me or to give me information or instructions (which I was too tired to really pay attention to). I couldn't really sleep. The most interesting person was Dr. Widmer, who told me what he did to my arm. He said he actually told me in post-op, but that I was crying and might not remember. He got that right! I don't remember him being in that room at all—unless he was the guy who woke me up.

So here's what happened: My radial head (the elbow-end of the bone that rotates in your forearm) was shattered into eight to ten pieces, plus a few that just got loose from the whole mess. So he got rid of all that broken stuff and replaced it with a metal piece—a piece about the size of my thumbnail, attached to a pin that will hold it in place.

I found this graphic online. The elbow on the far-right is the most like my elbow was.

The coronoid process of my ulna was broken. This is the little piece that cups around the humerus (upper-arm bone) and holds it in place. He fixed that.

Another picture I found online; the green part is the coronoid process. Hold your hand up so it looks like this picture; now extend your thumb out as far as it goes. That is how Dr. Widmer demonstrated what was wrong there. With that bit out of place, nothing was holding the humerus where it belongs.

And he reattached the tendon and the ligament that had come loose—the ones that let me bend and straighten my elbow. Phew! That was a lot of work! In fact, Dr. Widmer's assistant, Dr. Stephany, said they only do a surgery like mine two or three times a year—compared to as many as six rotator-cuffs in a day. It was kind of a big deal.

We spent the day getting ready to go home, but just as we were ready to leave poor Bruce got one of his heavy-duty nosebleeds. So we waited for that to finish before we went home—to my father-in-law's house. (I had planned to spend the week at my mom's house, but her basement flooded.) I was pretty miserable by the time we did arrive at the house, and was watching the clock for my next dose of pain-killer. A nice man came over to get me set up on oxygen so that my meds won't kill me in my sleep. We had a yummy dinner. I slept all night, only waking up about 45 minutes before it was time for me to take more meds throughout the night. And I felt so good yesterday morning that I thought I might be able to decrease my dose of meds, and maybe even go visit Mom and Melanie. But, on second thought...not quite. (We actually did go on a short trip to Walmart later in the afternoon. I did OK for about an hour, when I was very glad to go home again.)

While all of my trauma/drama has been going on, we've had friends going to my mom's house, trying to fix Bruce's car for us. People really are amazing!

Bruce has been taking great care of me. Because he is awesome! Seriously, I don't have words to express how good he is to me, and how much I love him, and how glad I am that he's been with me through this. Sadly for me, he will have to go back home again tomorrow and work through the week. I am going to stay here through Friday so I can keep working on feeling better, and go to my first follow-up appointment on Thursday.

Anyway, that is my big, long update. Last night I decided to try using only one pain pill instead of two, and it's been fine (although I'll still use the oxygen when I sleep). I'm feeling very, very good—all things considered. If you feel the urge, you could probably come visit me at Dad's house some time this week. You could even bring dinner, or lunch. ;-)  Or a movie for me to watch.

I'll be here, getting better.