My husband had surgery late last week, and I have been taking care of him. He had an operation to correct an inguinal hernia. To my astonishment, it was performed as an outpatient surgery.
The staff we encountered at the hospital were all very nice, but it was a hurry up and wait situation. We had to be there by 8:00 a.m., and his surgery was supposed to take place at 10:00 a.m. While we were there by the appointed time, his procedure was quite delayed.
He was called back to pre-op around 9:30 a.m., and I believed it wouldn't be long then. Boy was I wrong! We were there for a few hours before he was wheeled to the operating room, and I was excused to the waiting room. I spent a few hours there trying to read, ignore the other people who were waiting on their patients, and ignore my urge to wander around. I think it might have helped if there had been a TV for everyone to watch, but we were all left to own entertainment.
After waiting for a few hours, I received a phone call from a nurse in the recovery room telling me that my husband was not waking up like he should, but his vitals were fine. She assured me that he should be awake soon, and then they would call me back to help him get dressed and receive his discharge papers.
When I finally entered his room, I was told he had been nauseous, but he should be better. After the nurse came in with the papers I had to sign and explained things, she stated he was free to go. After she left, I tried to help him get dressed. That is when things got interesting.
We had managed to get his sweatpants put on when he suddenly asked me to hand him the trash can. I will spare you the details. Let's just say that he was not quite over his nausea, and we were not leaving any time soon.
The discharge nurse knocked on the door, asking if everything was all right. I explained what was going on, and she left us to alert someone else. A few minutes later, she returned with a syringe of medicine she said would settle his stomach for eight hours. She apologized for taking so long. She said she had to receive the order from the recovery room, and she had a difficult time getting hold of them.
I did not catch her name, but that nurse has my gratitude. I had to pull over one time on the way home for my husband to be sick, but the shot kicked soon after that. I was able to pick up his medicine and get him home to his recliner.
The first night was brutal. I have never seen him so sick. He finally ate some soup before he went to sleep for the night. He chose to sleep in his recliner that night due to his proclivity to sleeping on his side.
The first few days were pretty rough, exacerbated by the fact that he is not the type of person to sit around. He should not be lifting anything or bending. Though he has been sore and in pain, he has insisted on pushing himself too hard. I had to stop him from moving his recliner and lifting a case of water.
I chose to take the week off from work to take care of him. I knew he would try to do his share of the household chores, and I did not want him hurting himself. I was right. I have had my hands full keeping him from doing things he shouldn't and pushing himself too hard.
I pictured him sleeping a great deal and me taking care of him and the house. I had fantasies about getting some writing done and maybe even putting some paint on a canvas or two. What I have learned is that by the time I get the breakfast dishes done and laundry under way, it's nearly time to make lunch. I have not written much at all, and paining is not in the cards for me at this point.
I'm happy to say that my husband is feeling better, despite his insistence to not take things easy. He will be off work for three weeks, but I'm heading back to work next week. He should be fairly self-sufficient by then.
Have you ever taken vacation time to care for a loved one? I have done so many times, but my husband is my most challenging patient.
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