I haven’t posted since surgery, and given that it is more difficult for me to take, I’ll keep this to a brief recap. Last Friday I arrived to Tallaght University Hospital around 7 AM and proceeded to outpatient registration as instructed. It was a small area on the second level of the hospital, with two registration of windows and about half a dozen people waiting. The “now serving” ticket machine was not working. I stood behind a couple of other patients who arrived before me for my turn. After 10 or 15 minutes and stepped up the window, provides my personal information and health insurance policy number, and signed some paperwork via an electric pad. The man behind the registration window shuffled through some patients’ chart files crowded on a shelf behind him until he found mine. I was then asked to take a seat and wait for a nurse to call my name. it was probably around 745 or 8 AM when a nurse appeared called several of us to follow her back to an outpatient ward room. There were about six of us assigned to one room, a mix of men and women, and we were told to pick up any bed where a hospital gown was laid out for us. There was a small wardrobe where we could store our clothes and other personal items, and large blue paper curtains on rails that we could pull around our beds for privacy. The nurse, who was of African origin, made rounds to check our vitals. Eventually the orthopedic surgeon I had met on Thursday showed up for a quick preop chat. he said there were a few other patients ahead of me but they should get to me by midday. It was around 1015 when an assistant showed up to wheel me on my bed out of the room and to the ”theatre” (operating room suite). I was parked in a holding area where a couple of nurses attended to me, double confirmed my name and personal information, checked my vitals, and asked some medical history questions. Next I was moved into the preop room where a female nurse from Scotland and an anesthesiologist with a Middle Eastern name and accent conducted the last preparations before I was to go into surgery including an IV tap on my left hand. The anesthesiologist offered me the option of a local anesthetic on my arm, but I said I would prefer general anesthesia, please and thank you. Then was time to go to sleep with a few inhalations of gas.
I woke up groggily back in the outpatient ward room with a bright red cast/split on my right arm, to no surprise. some of the other patients were already back in their spaces. The nurse took turns with us, checking our vitals, adjusting our beds, etc. I didn’t feel much pain, although I was sweating quite profusely… so much so that another nurse came by to put towels under me. Someone mentioned something about morphine, which took me aback as I don’t think I’ve ever been given that. I texted friends and family to let them know I was out surgery and OK. A woman with a cart stopped by to drop off some and toast. I had all afternoon to recover from the anesthesia, as my friend N wouldn’t be available to pick me up until the evening after he finished work. In all honestly I probably need all the time as I was a still a little nauseous into the late afternoon / early evening; the nurse administered some medicine which helped. By around 730, I had a check in with a doctor on call in preparation for discharge. He gave me a prescription for some pain medicine and and a medical certificate. I slowly put on my clothes and waited for my friend to arrive. At that point there was only one other patient left in the ward, and her family was getting her ready to go home as well. My friend N had to park in front of the hospital and come up to get me. By that time I was feeling more or less fine. It was a quick drive back to the city centre, N dropped me off on Dame Street a short distance from Sprangers Yard, and my friend CJ was waiting for me there to make sure I got up to my apartment OK. All things considered, the day had gone smoothly and I was glad to me home.
On Saturday, I took it easy. CJ showed back up in the morning to help me with my SuperValu grocery delivery, although I probably could have managed it myself. Thankfully I had some spare prescription painkillers that I had brought with me from the U.S. that got me through the night and morning. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a cast, although it’s really more of a half cast with a hard plaster splint on the outside of my arm and elbow, and softer bandaging on the inner part of my arm. There really hasn’t been much pain, although for the first couple of days the swelling was very uncomfortable. I have been taking some anti-inflammatories that have helped with that. My priority for the day was to go to the pharmacy and fill my prescription for heavy duty pain medication (Oxycodone) just in case I needed it. I’m lucky that this happened when the weather had already turned warmer, because I can only wear short sleeve shirts, layered over with a fleece vest and sweatshirt due to the arm cast. I walked over to the Boots pharmacy on Grafton Street, which is where I have been filling my prescriptions. The pharmacist said he had to check to make sure they have the oxycodone in stock, then he returned to say that the prescription hadn’t been written up correctly. Because it’s a controlled substance, the prescription has to be very specific in terms of the number of tablets (written out in both words and numbers), which the doctor on call at the hospital when I was discharged apparently had not done. The pharmacist told me I would have to get a replacement prescription from the hospital or perhaps ask my GP for help. So I left the pharmacy, called the hospital, and was connected with the outpatient ward where I had been admitted. I was surprised that I actually got through to the nurse who had looked after me for most of my time there. I explained the situation, and she immediately understood the problem. Unfortunately she said that she couldn’t send in the prescription to the pharmacy directly, and I would have to come back to the hospital to pick up a replacement prescription from the on-call doctor. I set out again for Tallaght University Hospital on the red Luas light rail tram line, which takes about 45 minutes each way. The hospital was much quieter than it had been on Friday. I went back up to the ward and found the nurse. She said she would track down a doctor but it might take a while, so I sat down in a chair in the hallway. Periodically she and another nurse would stop by to say they were still waiting on the doctor. It took about an hour and a half before someone showed up. They apologized for the delay, wrote out out a new prescription, and then I set back out to the city centre on the Luas. I went directly to Boots, and this time there were no problems getting the prescription filled. At this point it was around 5pm. I was hungry and my arm was a bit achy from the swelling. I picked up some take away food on the way back home, and after settling in and eating, was tuckered out. I ended up taking a long nap, waking up in the late evening. I stayed up watching TV and having some snacks before I felt sleepy enough to go to bed.
I slept in late on Sunday. My Priority for the day was to take a shower. I had ordered some waterproof arm covers from Amazon UK that arrived in the morning, in addition to a shower sleeve I had picked up at Boots. I figured the doubling up with both of them would be prudent. Months ago my friend S had bought tickets to a concert in Dublin that evening, and we had planned to go together. I had told him I probably wouldn’t be up for it after my surgery, but I was feeling OK so we decided to go ahead with it. I hadn’t seen S since our time together in Las Vegas, so I was looking forward to seeing him again. The concert was at the Olympia Theatre on Dame Street not far from Sprangers Yard, and it was put on by an Irish performer named Róisín (row-sheen) Murphy whose musical genre is best described an electro / art / experimental pop. I had never heard of her before, butI had never heard of her before, but it sounded interesting as she is known to put on quite a show with lavish outfits and multiple wardrobe changes.
Until next time….
