Wednesday morning at home, written in Word. So a copy and
paste in McD.
The aftermath of cataract surgery is awful. To start with,
my eyes water and my nose runs ALL the time unless I am asleep. I have not yet
gone to the doctor for followup today, so I am not sure how much wiping of
tears I can do on the affected eye. At any rate, removing the tape feels like I
am removing skin on my face. Where the tape is on my skin hurts all the time. A
blink is excruciating. My eyeball hurts, especially with every blink. My lower
eyelashes itch!
I have no internet. Exbf unplugged it all yesterday! When he
got back to his home and I called and asked why, he said he thought I had
Charter. I have spent five days telling him how Charter did NOT hook up my
internet to them, that I was still using ATT.
Yesterday, on the day of surgery he managed to do just the
opposite of what I asked and did not even make it to surgery. The staff was
really annoyed. They kept telling me to call him.
To give you an idea of distance—my house is three blocks
from the church, and the surgery center is three miles the opposite direction
from the church.
Yesterday was the day of the church lunch. We went so I
would not have to cook. He ate while I sat with a go-box with my food. I had
about a Tablespoon of water in the form of three ice cubes. They were tiny
cubes. So, I just talked to Fred who is going to take me to followup. I forgot
to take a fork with me to eat after surgery.
We left too late from the lunch to put up the chickens
before surgery (the plan), so I had him drop me off. He was supposed to get
oats to lure them and a plastic fork for me and return.
“get a plastic fork in the cabinet next to refrigerator
where they are standing in a cup. Put that in your pocket and put oats in a
paper plate and toss it into the trash.”
Did he? He spent his time going into the house twice,
searching the kitchen for a plastic fork and returning the paper plate to the
counter. Lest you think I am a bitch, he can barely walk or get up the steps,
so I was trying to be thoughtful by telling him to go into the house once,
getting the fork and oats, tossing the plate.
AND, he has been around here for ten years and has gotten plastic
forks from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. There was no need to search
the dishwasher and the drawer. PLUS, I never refer to a “drawer” as “cabinet
door” or “cabinet.” AND, he brought a good fork which is never to leave the
house, ignoring three plastic cups with plastic utensils standing in them.
He drove me to the dinner and to the surgery center, so I
was on high alert because he runs red lights and stop signs. When I said turn “”right
after the green roof building” we could see 1/8 mile away, he did not slow down
and had to swing wide to even get into the driveway and barely slowed down,
entering the driveway on the left side and barely missing going into the grass.
I hated to go to surgery so stressed. He let me off and then asked what to do.
I told him what we decided. He parked, came inside and asked me again. ???
I think dementia is setting in. But, I have never told him. He
denies I say things, like specific directions. And, he remembers some
directions much differently than I give them. When he takes me to any doctor
appointment or surgery, nothing goes right, and it’s all my fault.
Surgery
The nurses kept dropping things on the floor and were not
going to clean them. Maybe the Oxygen sensor does not have to be clean when it
goes on my finger, but I asked the nurse to clean it and her hands after she
dropped it and had to drag it from under the bed I was on. Even though I did
not see her touch the floor, it bothered me. The nurse putting the IV in my
hand expected me to just hold up my hand with nowhere to let it rest while the
nurse on the other side told me to open my eye for drops. Maybe I am a bitch,
but I asked for my hand to be resting so the IV could be inserted without my
having to be holding still in midair. I did make them laugh when I asked, “Can
we just ask me to do one thing at a time.” Another nurse was asking me to “turn
this way and open wide so I can put in these eye drops.”
Everyone was very nice. They got pillows to put beside me so
my arms could lie on them. My shoulders hurt from the torn rotator cuffs if I
don’t have something on which to rest my arms. They assured me I was lying high
enough in the bed. When they rolled me into the operating room, I was told I
was too low in the bed. ??? So, with my back and knees and shoulders hurting
me, and the doctor probably standing and waiting, I had to try to slide up. They
told me to scoot, but I cannot scoot, I have to raise myself up and move. They
got my pillows in place again.
All the time they were squirting something else in my eyes
and the IV. Mercifully, I cared less and less about what was happening. They
had me sitting/lying in the hall, waiting with a tense nurse. When I asked her
why we were in the hall, she said it saved time, that the doctor finished one
patient and the next was wheeled in so he could remove that person’s cataracts.
I never was quite “out.” I expected not to be conscious of
what was going on or be aware. He assured me I would. I perceived only changing
lights and noises. I kept thinking about that. Or, maybe my perception was
skewed by the drugs. I never saw a human or anything that made sense. I kept
wondering what all the commotion was. Then, I was “out’ and unaware until
later.
Before surgery, the doctor said I would be aware enough to
look straight ahead when he told me to look straight ahead. If he communicated
with me, I was not aware. But, maybe those were the garbled sounds I heard.
Then, I was back in the room and the nurse was yanking out
the IV and other stuff was going on. No, I was not in the room. I don’t know
where I was. At any rate, after a bit I was in a wheelchair back where exbf was
sitting with my meal. I don’t remember riding in the wheelchair. I don’t
remember getting into the wheel chair. But, I remember seeing my meal as I sat
in a wheelchair. I devoured all the church food instead of the crackers and oj.
. Later, I called him and asked where was my chocolate cake. He said I ate it
at the hospital. RATS! I don’t remember enjoying it…lol
I slept well last night. I dreamed of something. My worst
nightmare/fear was that I would shove aside the cover on my eye and injure myself.
There is a plastic cover that I must keep taped on for several weeks.
It’s about 11 am now. I started writing at 9:30 and have
done things and returned to writing. This post will go out after I am cleared
to drive. Hopefully, that will be today.
By 5 pm I was cleared to drive.
8:30 pm on Wednesday. Going WM and maybe back here to BK.
Tomorrow, I have appt in Huntsville for back.
Does all this show up well after copy and paste?
