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.
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?