Saturday, November 29, 2008

Inappropriate sources of gratitude...

Apologies in advance for the minor-ish swearing I do in this post, I think it's warranted. I did just have knee surgery!

[Cribbed from my LJ]

*yawns*

*tries not to fall asleep on keyboard*

So!

As approximately 3 of you know, I had knee surgery yesterday. Right knee arthroscopy and an OATS procedure. For those who don't feel like reading the articles, I went in, had my knee sliced open, and the piece of bone/cartilage that they had to remove last year (as it had somehow detached and was causing problems with walking and such), was replaced with an equal sized plug from the other side of my knee.

Hooray.

I had to be at UBC Hospital at 08:15, which meant I had to get up at ass o'clock. My parents picked Ruy and I up and off we went so I could be admitted. Relatively uneventful until they called me in to get changed and then be interrogated by the nurse, re: everything I've ever done, taken, lived through, etc. However, she also had celiac disease, so at least we could bond over that.

She inserted my IV, hit a valve, had to take it out, and reinsert it in my right hand (which they evidently undid while they were doing the surgery, because I woke up later with it in the crook of my right elbow/forearm. Yay, 3 IV bruises!

I was talked to by my orthopedic surgeon, several anesthetists, my orthopedic surgeon's helper, and a few stray nurses, who all asked exactly the same questions, but hey, whatever gets them to open up the right (er, as in correct) knee, is okay by me.

Anesthetists and I discussed my usual nausea after general anesthesia. Suggestion was made that I go for a spinal anesthetic and sedation instead. "You want to stick a needle in my SPINE?!?!" I declined, so they said they'd give me a bunch of anti-nausea drugs during the surgery. Which they did, and I was massively happy for it afterwards.

The fading out part wasn't so bad, but I could do without the troubles I had fading back in. I was fucking exhausted, so tired I could just diiiiiiieeeee. But every time I tried to nod off back to sleep to stave off some of the bone-deep exhaustion (which I suppose the cocktail of midazolam, fentanyl, and ketamine would do to me), my O2 SAT monitor would start beeping, because I was breathing too shallowly, and they'd have to wake me up and tell me to take deep breaths. Which was, I agree, necessary, but seeeeeeeriously, I was so exhausted.

One of the side effects of fentanyl is dry mouth, which I have been experiencing like fuck since I woke up. I drank so much ice water yesterday, which I suppose kept me slightly awake. Then they gave me ginger ale, which tasted good, and woke me up a little more, but made my mouth SO DRY I COULDN'T STAND IT. Then, of course, I drank so many fluids that i had to pee desperately, to the point where I was in a lot of pain, and sure my bladder was about to rupture. To summarize a story I would never want to relive, I was ignored, ignored some more, moved, ignored, then finally someone paid attention to me, my mom got my crutches, and pretty much her and this one nurse are my heroes, for finally getting me to the bathroom, before I expired.

After that, I was allowed to get dressed, and start going home. Other than some dizziness when I first stood up, and the crazy feeling in my knee, I didn't feel any nausea at all. Which was good, because I then had a roughly hour and a bit car ride home to my parents', in the rain.

I'm on Oxycodone, and Tylenol for the pain. After less than a week, I get to switch to T3s, which shall be awesome, because Oxycodone GIVES ME MORE GODDAMN DRY MOUTH. In the past day, I swear, I've drank about a Nile's worth of water, and I still want MORE.

Between the amount of fluid going into me, and the still present exhaustion, I can't help but think back to yesterday, whenever either I've drank too *much* fluid, or I feel like falling asleep. I'm absolutely panicked about trying to sleep, in case I set off the goddamn O2 SAT alarm, WHICH I NO LONGER EVEN HAVE!

Also, on a slightly more happy note, it's my mom's birthday today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Peter Cushing lives in Whitstable, I have seen him on a bicycle, I have seen him buying vegetables...

Except not, because Peter Cushing died in 1994. But that's neither here nor there.

What's important is this (cribbed from my LJ, where I posted the news last night when it happened):

Haskell died.

He was moving around when Ruy fed him and Hopper hay, but when I went to give them lettuce, he was sprawled, half inside their little house. Usually he's all up in the treats, so, I was a little worried. I felt for a pulse, for the rising and falling of his chest. Nothing. He was still warm, so obviously, he'd just died within the last few minutes.

A year less 5 days ago, Gryffin (our English Mastiff) died. I'm just getting tired of November, really.

Hopper's not sure what to do with herself. Her and Haskell were a bonded pair. ...also, he was the dominant of the two, so she's either going to be depressed, or start a terrible new regime of tyranny over Blooper and Goomba. I'd be okay with the tyranny, if it meant she wouldn't be sad. She just looks so lost. I think I know how she feels.

...it's not like Haskell was an old bunny, either. He was only 3 and a half or 4. But then again, Mastiffs have a life expectancy of about 10-ish years, and Gryffin died a few months after turning 6.

I'm devastated.

I'm SO devastated, I'm listening to Cotton Eye Joe to cheer myself up. This is wrong on just about every level.


We took his body up to the vet today, and they'll cremate him. We'll get his ashes back, and they'll send out the pertinent pieces for a necropsy.

Goomba's looking peaked, so everyone is going in for vet appointments on Wednesday afternoon.

I'm dealing relatively well, considering. However, I'm sure something completely unrelated will, in the next week, cause me to sob hysterically. I...apologize in advance.

Also? Is it us? Six hamsters in 6 months, and now Haskell. And possibly Goomba.