Morning routine. Poke, prod, "How ya doin'?" then breakfast.
Surgeon came in and removed the second (and last)drain from the wound. Says all looks good.
(HW: Post-op patients wander around with a kind of movable "blood bucket" which looks like they have a bottle of beet juice attached to *wherever*)
HW has to go back to Pressath to deal with some business and chores today and tomorrow, so she loaded up and headed out just a bit ago but she'll be back tomorrow around lunchtime.
(HW: The hospital presented me with a "pre-bill" of about 12,500 Euro for the hospitalization and rehabilitation. They want it by the time they discharge him. I told him they would get it when the insurance company sent it, because we didn't have that kind of money, but that they would get it. The lovely young lady I spoke with [in broken Denglish] seemed resigned.. I used my age and presence to just make things "as they were" and the Germans, bless them, understand bloody bureaucracy all too well. I think they invented it, and are very sorry. )
She helped me get up and make my first trip of the day to the WC (I have a piss-bottle for that, but the WC calls, especially after coffee.), which was challenging, but not as exhausting as yesterday. Staff has bustled about, but I haven't seen the PT yet, and am anticipating her arrival with mixed feelings ...
I'm not in a whole lot of pain right now, but have recently discovered that my right butt cheek is numb. Weird, but not a real problem. That sort of thing happens after you get chopped upon.
Morning went fine, but the afternoon and evening sucked. More pain, more restlessness, and the staff here was running around like they had their hair on fire. I was basically on my own for the most of the evening, when usually the nurses or helpers are poking their heads in every hour or so. They were apparently having a Bad Day yesterday eve.
(HW: It was the first night I was gone, and I was furious when I called and found out about it. My guard dog hackles went up, my teeth itched and I wanted a piece of whomever threatened my mate's health Real Bad... fortunately I wasn't there, and CG's equanamity prevailed. He worked in a hospital for years, and knew that sometimes, things just go tits-up. It's something I try to learn from my mate, this centered empathy and some truly legendary listening skills... the art of siddown, shaddup and LISTEN. One of the best lessons anyone can ever learn. I'm studying hard. )
I was annoyed, too, because supper basically sucked big green eggs. Smoked herring. Holy shit, that stuff is horrible. Fortunately, I also got a big brezel stangl (pretzel stick), bread and butter and cheese. That was all fine, but I was Jonesing for a bottle of red wine to go with and wash away the taste of the herring.
(HW: I have a bottle of St Emilion Grand Cru from the Alsace I am saving, for when we can enjoy it outside with the duckies and the bunnies and the excellent sunshine south of Regensburg)
Dear friend Miguel promised some of his wife's excellent Cuban cooking should the next Friday menu threaten similar poor fare!
Evening finally came (along with a crashing thunderstorm and, believe it or not, a 30-minute firework show and blaring music from a fest going on this weekend – all in all, I'd rather have been at the fest drinking beer ...), and things settled down a bit after shift change, but I had a bad night. Lots of pain, restlessness, and nothing seemed to help. I had extra pain meds and sleepy drugs. I went to sleep pretty fast, but still woke up sometime after midnight and only slept intermittently from then on, waking up about every hour or so and thrashing about trying to get comfy. I'd sit up on the bedside, watch some of the truly bizarre German late-night TV, lie back down, try to sleep.
Amused the night nurse (who's a real sweetie with excellent English and a good touch) by waving at her every time she peeked in the room.