3 Days, 2 Nights

The outpatient surgery to repair my left knee went well, but the recovery has been a bit rough.

I got an all expense paid trip for 3 days and 2 nights to The Hospital, including continuous room service and all the opiates I could request while still conscious.

The anesthesia caused an MS exacerbation, and the staff had a little trouble figuring me out. Thank God for physical therapists who had encountered people like me in the past. When Nurse Ratchet insisted that she was not bringing me another bedpan and that I would walk to the bathroom, the therapist gave the insensitive nurse a piece of her mind. I gave her something she wouldn't forget for a while either.

My friend and soul sister, Deb, came one day to sing, "You Can't Make Me Go to Rehab" for the doctor who insisted that I needed to go to a nursing home. She also brought black and white 'voodoo Lego men.' We named them after the staff members and ripped their heads off before drowning them in mouthwash in the emesis basin.

My dear friend, Rhonda, came to sit with me for 9 hours one day, making sure that no one on staff pushed me around...other than in a wheelchair. She took me for a spin out to the lobby, where I was serenaded by the oldest volunteer violinist on the continent. While he hummed a few bars of old songs and then scratched them out one phrase at a time on his fiddle, his WWII sidekick who looked like Burgess Meredith made eyes at me. In my delauden stupor, I smiled and waved at him, marveling over the beautiful scene and treasuring it with so many other memories that were drug-induced during my stay.

I spent the 4th of July in bed with a new toy that was delivered by the home health care man. Just before dusk, my cherub of a husband stood beside the bed, offering me two big white pills and a glass of water. While he and our friends enjoyed the fireworks outside, I delighted in the continuous motion created by a contraption that simulates slow-motion bronco-busting, complete with lamb's wool chaps. I'm sure that the velcro restraints are what make this item such a big hit with invalids. Who can resist the thrill of being tied up?

The warning label on my bottle of pain killers says that the medication may cause constipation. Doctors who say that it's perfectly harmless to have a bowel movement just once a week are full of crap.

Coming back from a trip on opiates is a lot like returning home after a lovely Caribbean vacation. The sun just doesn't seem to shine as brightly, and the people around us don't seem as colorful. But there's always hope that I can go back someday. My right knee is beginning to feel a little stiff....