This year would be different. Thanksgiving was early so I had plenty of time to get ready for Christmas. Both of my girls would be home for the holidays and my sister, P, and her brother and sister-in-law would also be with us. It was going to be a joyful day full of gift giving, good food, and lots of from-the-belly laughter as we celebrated the special birthday boy’s day. I dug in and got started on November 25th. Good thing.
I discovered “Cyber Monday” and spent the day at the computer buying one bargain after another until I was exhausted and spent. Literally, spent, and spent, and spent. But, oh how good it felt to have all but a handful of gifts ordered, wrapped, and shipped all with the tippity-tap of my keyboard. WooHoo, what a way to shop. No malls, no tired feet, no aching back, no toting heavy bags, to trips to the post office, no pain, but much gain. I was rather smug about all of this early preparedness.
On Friday, December 9th all of this preparedness paid off in a really weird turn of events. As planned I entered the surgery center for a catherization procedure through my right arm down into my right leg to insert a stent. A total blockage prevented the usual through-the-groin approach and the cardiologist thought maybe he could unblock it this way and put in the stent. Didn’t work, slapped on a bandage, and sent me home to recover before another approach or by-pass surgery. Sigh.
Hah! No way Jose or any other guy. The “Crisis before Christmas” had begun and no one saw it coming, least of all the victim. On Saturday, December 10th it was my R’s birthday and we celebrated with dinner at “Le Club” a.k.a. Baywood Greens. All seemed to be going well although my arm did seem to be swelling a bit.
By Sunday afternoon the swelling was worse and so was the pain, but I was determined to go to a clergy Christmas dinner. Not good. Dumb decision. With the first nibble on my appetizer a pain shot up my right arm and I sent R scurrying to the car for pain relief drugs. I managed to get through the dinner, but was not in any champagne sparkly frame of mind and we were among the first to leave. Drat.
By Monday morning we were in full-blown crisis mode and I found myself checking into the ER at our local hospital. I couldn’t even wait to see the doctor in the p.m. the pain was so severe. They wrapped my arm in an ace bandage, loaded me IV drugs (morphine I think) and admitted me. I was bleeding out of an artery into my arm forming a huge blood clot. For three days a new ultrasound was done to see how much the bleeding was progressing. It was not huge, but not small either, and the hard mass and pain was growing.
What was the delay in treatment, I wondered? My Dr. wanted to perform a prothrombin injection to clot the hole in the artery and stop the bleeding on Monday. But, the hospital protocol said he couldn’t do that unless I had been off my Plavix and aspirin for a week. What nonsense is that? After three days of arguing with the powers that be, my Dr. discharged me from the hospital and sent me upstate to a doctor he knew who would perform the procedure without the restriction. Ah, some relief may be on the way, I prayed. By this time I was hoping that either my arm would fall off or I would die, anything to get relief.
By the time I was checked into the ER and whisked off for the injection it was now day six of the ordeal. The injection procedure was done and, guess what, didn’t work. Oh crap. Now what? Surgery, they declared, and off we went at 6pm to cut my arm open and see what was going on in there? Well, if nothing else I was eager to be put under general anesthesia where I knew I would be pain free.
Later that night I was told that a grapefruit sized clot was removed from my arm, another clot removed from the artery itself, and a piece of nearby vein used to repair the hole in my artery where the leaking was occurring. I was put on IV Oxycontin and moved into a really nice private room. The crisis was over. I began to thank God that Thanksgiving was early, that I had discovered Cyber Monday and thanks be to God, I had even wrapped most of the gifts that had arrived before December 9th. All I really had to worry about now was Christmas dinner and I had lots of help with that.
Not quite yet, Miss Rita, giggled the devil as I was sent home on Saturday, December 17th, with a nice stash of Percocet for any residual pain. You see, with a four-inch incision covered by 19 staples there is bound to be a bit more pain in the healing. Yeah, well by Sunday night the arm was coming along, but I was hanging off the ceiling fan, whirring around the room, my joints aching, having chills, then fever and often positing very confusing abstract ideas. At least that is what I have been told. I was not, as one would say, “myself.”
It was my youngest daughter who found the answer – she remembered that I had acted in a similar fashion after back surgery some five years earlier when sent home on Oxycontin. Could we be on to something here? Oh, yes. Off the drugs that very minute, head cleared up by morning and the birds began to sing. Thank you Jesus, it is all downhill from here and all I am coping with is a bruised, swollen arm, and residual pain. I also have an inability to feed myself with my right hand because the swelling prevents my hand from reaching my mouth. I am learning quickly to be ambidextrous!
We still haven’t solved the blockage in my leg and I’m not looking forward to that prospect, but for now I think Christmas day will be joyful occasion. Twas the Crisis before Christmas and I pray that it is over. It was not expected nor welcomed, need I say. But, a big thank you goes to my Rector, boss, and priest who had the wisdom to tell me to stay home from work this week and rest. Being who I am I would have dragged myself into work and probably been a basket case. Thanks, J, you’re the best.
My R, who calls himself “Nurse Ratched” is another blog and with me being “Patient Ms. Crotchety.” it will be some tale to tell!