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It has been a week since my surgery. It has also been a week since Mumsy arrived from New Zealand to take on the monumental task of looking after me.

Adjusting to life after surgery back at home is a little tricky. At the hospital I was shown how to get around using crutches and the knee scooter. I was also lent a walking frame which I used to get from the bed to the bathroom. No problem. Now at home getting around on the scooter is easy. The tricky part is getting on and off it because I have only one leg to support me while trying to balance and hop onto the scooter. Sometimes I miss the scooter, other times the scooter rolls away because I forget to put the brakes on. It takes a while to get it into my little brain that the scooter has to be positioned a certain way at a particular distance for a smooth transition, else I most likely will end up on the floor.

I am confined to the ground floor of the house which means sleeping on the couch and having only birdbaths at the sink. In addition, the new bathroom added to the ground floor as part of our renovations is possibly the smallest in the world, so small that even I the shortie have to sit sideways on the toilet. It takes some practice to maneuver the scooter backwards into the bathroom, close enough for me to reach the toilet seat but give me enough room to rest my bung leg somewhere without bumping it against anything.

Part of Mumsy’s job is to set me up for various things during the day as V is at work, like the birdbaths, so that I have all the things I need in reaching distance and I have the means to maneuver myself. She also gets me food, drinks and everything else that I need. She puts away the sofa bed in the morning and gets me my medicine at the right time. She watches over me as I scoot around the house. She also has to deal with the builders on my behalf as they are still working on finishing bits and pieces upstairs which I can’t access. At night she and V slowly unpack boxes and put things away. By the end of the first week the house is getting back some form of order.

It is not all effort and boredom (at least I hope!) for Mumsy and me. We have gone out to breakfast a few times up King St. She has even ventured out on her own to get coffee for us. We have watched movies off Netflix, and lots of home renovation programs on HGTV!

For nearly a month now I have scooted, hopped and crawled my way around. My left foot is protected by a giant boot that goes up to just below my knee. The boot consists of a chunky plastic skeleton underneath which is a thick padded sleeve that wraps around the whole foot and calf. This boot is to be worn 24/7, bar a brief period 3 times a day for airing and toe exercises which are critical for optimising mobility and ensuring a full recovery.

 

6am, 12 May, 2016. Reluctantly I get out of bed, after waking up every hour on the hour since 1am. My head is clear as mud. Dragging my tired body to the bathroom, this is the last time for a few months when I can take myself to the shower unassisted with both my pins firmly on the ground.

I am having my bunion surgery today.

6.30am. Still pitch dark outside, we hurriedly jammed the knee scooter into the car, after failing to fold down the handlebar. We have to get to the hospital by 7am for admission.

7.15am. Paperwork over and done with. We sit down in the waiting room where there are already 20 or so other people waiting for their surgeries. I scan the room to count the overnight stayers like me by the sight of overnight bags. I try to guess what surgery each person is having but I’m not getting any clue. No crutches in sight, only my lonely knee scooter parked in the corridor. We wait.

8am. Bored our of my mind and slightly sleepy, I try to stay awake for the call of my name. Suddenly I hear “John Howard”. Now I’m wide awake. Poor bastard, I’m thinking, to share the same name as the former prime minister of Australia. I crane my neck to see what this guy looks like as most other people in the room are doing. A familiar looking grey haired man in a suit with no tie stood up in the back row and walked toward the announcer. It was indeed THAT JOHN HOWARD!!! I immediately speculate what he is here for. Perhaps a hip replacement as a result of too much walking in his morning walks? No,  it can’t be. No overnight bag and definitely no Janette. It’s gotta be a minor day surgery.

8.10am. V is in the loo when my name is called. I panic a little but quickly gather myself and my belongings and be led into the ward. Upon instructions I get out of my clothes and into the hospital gown and into the bed. I am told specifically not to mistake the paper undies as a hat. I gulp and secretly give thanks for the warning…

8.30am. I am lying in bed, in the waiting room next to the operating theatre. It will be my turn next in there I’m told. The aneathetist sees me briefly and gives me a pre-op drug. In the mean time one of the theatre nurses for my surgery is doing some restocking and general tidying up of the waiting room. We chatted here and there. Then she leaves the room. I listen to the random banters in the operating theatre. Laughters ring out every now and then. It must be fun to work with a team like that, I think to myself as I drift in and out of drowsiness. Then I hear it. Loud and clear. No mistake. It is the sound of a GRINDER!!! Not just a brief grind, it whines and wails like a petulant toddler. I am completely awake now with eyes the size of a saucer!

Some time before 9am. I am being wheeled into the operating theatre. Watching the ceiling changes its terrain, I finally spot the surgical lighting. I get shifted to the operating bed and before I can count, I am out like a light.

Some time after 1.30pm. I open my eyes to this view…

This same view remains for the next 2 days, with a change of bedding. I will learn how to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. But for now, I must rely on others to do my bidding.