I had a total hip replacement surgery on my right hip ten days ago. The surgery went well. The prosthesis seems to be working as it should. Nonetheless, some weird and new things have happened in those ten days. First, I was told to come in at 3:00pm for surgery, but it got postponed until a little after 7:00pm. When I was wheeled into the OR, there must have been twenty people in the room. I was told to sit on the side of a short bed with my legs hanging off the side. The anesthesiologist said, "We need you sitting up for your spinal, then we will give you medicine to make you sleep. " Several people were around the little bed, all looking ready to catch me. I remember seeing the anesthesiologist put a syringe of clear liquid into my IV, and then the next thing I was aware of was people moving around me and I was in a hospital bed. A nurse checked my vitals and I tried to say something which was probably unintelligible because I was dopey and my mouth was dry and my throat scratchy. I couldn't feel my legs. Everything below my waist felt non-existent and at the same time tingly. Another nurse hollered "she's up!" and within a few minutes , more doctors and nurses appeared. They touched my feet and legs to see if I could feel it. They repeated this a number of times, asking me to try wiggling my toes. They brought my husband back to see me, and we had a conversation that I can't really remember. Next, my husband had to leave due to my emergence from anesthesia being after visiting hours were over, and I was moved to a hospital room. I lay there trying to figure out if my right leg was still there and if I could move it, because it was hidden under the blanket and completely devoid of sensation. Eventually, it started tingling like a foot that is asleep. In fact both feet felt that way, and then it happened in the rest of my legs. It was like they were numb, asleep, and overheated all at once. But, I could wiggle my toes and raise my legs about half an inch. "Yay!" , I thought, " I might be able to feel my legs soon! It would be so much better than this weird sensation. " About 2am, I had to go to the potty. They brought a walker, helped me out of bed, and got me to the bathroom. Nothing happened. I wanted something to happen, but it just wasn't. So, the nurse brought my IV stand, I washed my hands, and she put me back in bed. She said "I'll check how much is in your bladder with ultrasound, and if there is a lot, I'll put a catheter in to drain it. She got the ultrasound machine, put warm gel on the probe, and her eyes got huge. "This is estimating a liter and a half. I'll be right back with a catheter and a large collection bag! You really need to empty your bladder!" In less than a minute, she was back with supplies. She washed her hands and put gloves on and did the catheter. Apparently, the bladder is the last thing to start working again after spinal anesthesia. She pressed on my belly gently to make sure my bladder was empty and whisked everything away. I thought "Okay. My bladder is empty and I can kind-of walk. "
The next time I needed to get up was very painful. The spinal had mostly worn off, and I suddenly perceived just how much trauma had happened to my body. The nurses gave me pain meds and kept me somewhat comfortable the whole time, and I slept for about an hour at a time. About five in the morning, a resident stopped by, did a thirty second evaluation, and left. When the sun arose, they took me to the bathroom, helped me get my hands washed, and sat me in the recliner with a fresh ice pack on my leg. I had barely finished breakfast when three overly cheerful young people came in, announced that they were there to take me for PT. I was wearing only a half open hospital gown and was very doped up. I asked if I couldn't at least put my underwear on first. One of the female PTs helped me get my panties on with the male looking on the whole time. When I thanked her they laughed and said "it doesn't matter, we would have covered you" . With me clad in only the half-open gown and the panties I had worn into the hospital (my husband had not been given a chance to bring my overnight bag in) they had me use my walker to go to the gym (down the hospital corridor) while they asked me a checklist of questions. They fired information at me far faster than I could comprehend it (my surgery had been only twelve hours earlier at this point and I was woozy), had me walk up and down four steps, took me back to my room, fired more information at me too fast to comprehend (this was apparently all the instruction I was going to get on exercises to do at home), and then they said, "We're done. As far as we are concerned you can leave now ," and they promptly disappeared . Needless to say, I wasn't quite sure what had happened, and I felt disoriented and confused. That was it? The extent of my PT after a major surgery was a short walk and up and down four stairs twice? I had been told presurgery that PT would not release me to go home until I could do the sixteen stairs I have to negotiate at home and that I would have at least two PT sessions before leaving the hospital.
Right after my family arrived for a visit (About ten minutes later), my nurse walked in and said I was being discharged. Still feeling very confused at being kicked out of the hospital so quickly, I got dressed and waited. Another nurse came in and handed me discharge instructions and zipped through so fast that, once again, it was impossible to comprehend. She asked if I understood my hip restrictions (which I didn't remember ever being told), then answered the question for me and asked me to sign that I had received the instructions. The LPN came in, saw me dressed and holding discharge papers, said "I need to check something." When she returned she said " You can't leave until you have received another bag of IV antibiotics . " So I lay in bed fully dressed for two hours while the antibiotics dripped. As soon as the antibiotics went in, the nurse removed my IV, and someone with a wheelchair was already at the door. I was swept away down to the lobby and sent home. This was 16 hours from major surgery!
The next day, my pain became unbearable. I was in tears and hyperventilating. After being sent to voicemail several times, I finally got to talk to my surgeon's assistant. My meds were adjusted, and I was finally able to bear the pain about 12 hours later. Things seemed to be going pretty well until on day seven my leg was swollen down into my calf and I was having tremors and seizures. I went to the ER at the direction of the nurse. A ton of bloodwork was run, an EKG and vascular ultrasound were done, and then I was told that my bloodwork came back pretty good and there was no blood clot.
I said "That's good, but what about the seizures? "
"We have determined that they are myoclonic seizures, probably set off by your surgery."
What that means in layman's terms is that they had no clue and no intention of trying to figure it out. They told me to go to my primary care physician within a week.
I thought to myself, "You must be kidding! "
So, now here I am, ten days post-op. My pain level has gone down quite a bit, I was able to walk short distances with only a cane for some of the day, and I still am having seizures randomly. At one point, I had just sipped water when a seizure threw my head back against my chair and jerked my right leg, torso, and arms violently. I could see the concern on my husband's and daughter's faces as they anticipated whether or not they would need to spring into action.
"Don't choke," my husband said.
" I was thinking the same thing, dear, " I said after the seizure stopped and I had swallowed the water.
When I think about the degree to which the hospital staff violated my dignity I am physically sick.
When I consider that I felt like all the hospital staff cared about was getting rid of me and between the lingering effects of meds and the fact I could barely walk I felt so helpless, it is and was horrible.
When I reported to my nurse care coordinator what had happened and that I felt I had been pushed out the hospital door too soon, she said "Well were you prepared to pay out of pocket for another day?" She obviously thought this justified the way I had been treated.
The next time I needed to get up was very painful. The spinal had mostly worn off, and I suddenly perceived just how much trauma had happened to my body. The nurses gave me pain meds and kept me somewhat comfortable the whole time, and I slept for about an hour at a time. About five in the morning, a resident stopped by, did a thirty second evaluation, and left. When the sun arose, they took me to the bathroom, helped me get my hands washed, and sat me in the recliner with a fresh ice pack on my leg. I had barely finished breakfast when three overly cheerful young people came in, announced that they were there to take me for PT. I was wearing only a half open hospital gown and was very doped up. I asked if I couldn't at least put my underwear on first. One of the female PTs helped me get my panties on with the male looking on the whole time. When I thanked her they laughed and said "it doesn't matter, we would have covered you" . With me clad in only the half-open gown and the panties I had worn into the hospital (my husband had not been given a chance to bring my overnight bag in) they had me use my walker to go to the gym (down the hospital corridor) while they asked me a checklist of questions. They fired information at me far faster than I could comprehend it (my surgery had been only twelve hours earlier at this point and I was woozy), had me walk up and down four steps, took me back to my room, fired more information at me too fast to comprehend (this was apparently all the instruction I was going to get on exercises to do at home), and then they said, "We're done. As far as we are concerned you can leave now ," and they promptly disappeared . Needless to say, I wasn't quite sure what had happened, and I felt disoriented and confused. That was it? The extent of my PT after a major surgery was a short walk and up and down four stairs twice? I had been told presurgery that PT would not release me to go home until I could do the sixteen stairs I have to negotiate at home and that I would have at least two PT sessions before leaving the hospital.
Right after my family arrived for a visit (About ten minutes later), my nurse walked in and said I was being discharged. Still feeling very confused at being kicked out of the hospital so quickly, I got dressed and waited. Another nurse came in and handed me discharge instructions and zipped through so fast that, once again, it was impossible to comprehend. She asked if I understood my hip restrictions (which I didn't remember ever being told), then answered the question for me and asked me to sign that I had received the instructions. The LPN came in, saw me dressed and holding discharge papers, said "I need to check something." When she returned she said " You can't leave until you have received another bag of IV antibiotics . " So I lay in bed fully dressed for two hours while the antibiotics dripped. As soon as the antibiotics went in, the nurse removed my IV, and someone with a wheelchair was already at the door. I was swept away down to the lobby and sent home. This was 16 hours from major surgery!
The next day, my pain became unbearable. I was in tears and hyperventilating. After being sent to voicemail several times, I finally got to talk to my surgeon's assistant. My meds were adjusted, and I was finally able to bear the pain about 12 hours later. Things seemed to be going pretty well until on day seven my leg was swollen down into my calf and I was having tremors and seizures. I went to the ER at the direction of the nurse. A ton of bloodwork was run, an EKG and vascular ultrasound were done, and then I was told that my bloodwork came back pretty good and there was no blood clot.
I said "That's good, but what about the seizures? "
"We have determined that they are myoclonic seizures, probably set off by your surgery."
What that means in layman's terms is that they had no clue and no intention of trying to figure it out. They told me to go to my primary care physician within a week.
I thought to myself, "You must be kidding! "
So, now here I am, ten days post-op. My pain level has gone down quite a bit, I was able to walk short distances with only a cane for some of the day, and I still am having seizures randomly. At one point, I had just sipped water when a seizure threw my head back against my chair and jerked my right leg, torso, and arms violently. I could see the concern on my husband's and daughter's faces as they anticipated whether or not they would need to spring into action.
"Don't choke," my husband said.
" I was thinking the same thing, dear, " I said after the seizure stopped and I had swallowed the water.
When I think about the degree to which the hospital staff violated my dignity I am physically sick.
When I consider that I felt like all the hospital staff cared about was getting rid of me and between the lingering effects of meds and the fact I could barely walk I felt so helpless, it is and was horrible.
When I reported to my nurse care coordinator what had happened and that I felt I had been pushed out the hospital door too soon, she said "Well were you prepared to pay out of pocket for another day?" She obviously thought this justified the way I had been treated.
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