My surgery was early on the morning of August 28, 2006. I went home from the hospital on September 1, 2006. It was a very rough week.
I woke up after the surgery in the worst possible pain I could have imagined. After my first fusion surgery in 2004, I woke up calmly and peacefully with a pain pump of morphine IV already in place and working very nicely, so I expected the same this time.
That wasn't the case.
My surgeon later told me that I was terribly stressed, and that my body was feeling and reacting to pain even while under anesthesia. I was stressing and had to be stablized before I could be given anything like morphine. All I remember was waking up in so much pain, thrashing around and screaming "Help me! Help me!" like Susan Hayward in one of those old black and white 1950s "B" movies. Then, it was not so funny, but that's what it must have looked like.
I don't know how long it took for them to do what they had to do to get the pain pump in place (I think they also gave me a shot of morphine, but again, I'm not sure), but it seemed like a lifetime. I was taken to a bed in sub-acute ICU that night and stayed there until Thursday. There, I was checked on continually and monitored, much more so than during those first few post-op days after my first surgery. I was moved to a regular room for one day before I went home late Friday night.
Note: I’ve asked my DH about the events of that day, since my memory of it all was not very clear. I remember him being there and then not being there with me. He said he was permitted to stay for about five minutes right after my surgery, but then, the need to get me stabilized was paramount, so he had to wait outside for an hour or so to see me again. It must have been a long day for him.
Just briefly, I have a 16 inch scar now where the old one was. I won't be getting my hardware back. It seems a request like that is just too much for them to handle. I have a wound on my upper lip that may produce a scar from the surgical tape used during the procedure. When they took the tape off, they took the skin with it. That's getting better, though, so it may not be as much of a problem as I first thought.
My surgeon's chief surgical resident prescribed only 4.5 days of low dose Percocet for me when I left the hospital on Friday night. I'm sure many of you all know that a script for opiates should have the dosage and the total amount of pills written on it. This one did not, and when I questioned that (I didn't want any problems with this after I left the hospital) he sent back the nurse to tell me it was “okay.” It was not. Our pharmacist, who is also a neighbor and a long-time mom-and-pop drug store owner in town, had to call to find out how to fill the Rx, because it wasn't written correctly. Of course, he couldn't get through (that's been my main concern in dealing with these folks) and wound up getting a file clerk who was in doing extra hours on a three day weekend! A call in to my regular pain management doctor did the trick, and he saw me a few days later, before I ran out of that initial paltry prescription I was given. Thank goodness for the compassionate doctors.
The rest of my hospital stay was marred with dueling day nurses fighting with overbearing PTs, nurse's aids jockeying for position with wheel chairs and other petty sniping and bickering. I'm sure I just saw what goes on at a lot of big inner city/metro hospitals all over the world, though.
I saw both my surgeon and his NP who removed my staples earlier today, Friday, September 8th. The incision looks good, I’m doing well, and the pain in my thighs from the disk problems is slowly going away, enough so that I actually feel that it might be successful. My surgeon stressed the need for my brace, for taking it easy and he also suggested I use a bone growth stimulator. His NP will be in touch about that.