The night after the implant of my new knee I moaned all night. It didn't occur to me to press the button and say, "Hey, is there anyone who could come talk to me?"
Nor did it occur to me to ask, "Do you have any stronger medicine than this?"
I am relatively new to surgeries, so I'm learning as I go.
Later that first night, a young patient-care man I assumed was a nurse helped me to the bathroom and left me there for half an hour. I pulled the little cord and nobody came. When he came back, I forced a conversation by accusing him of leaving me alone at a time when I could not possibly get back to bed alone.
This never happened again. In fact, he later came back and apologized and asked me what he could do to make it up to me. I said I'd very much like a Diet Coke and he went to the lobby and purchased one.
I drank a few sips and returned to my moaning. When, later, a real nurse came in I apologized for moaning so much.
"That's okay, Honey," she said. "Moaning is good for you. Moan away."
And so I continued to moan whenever I felt like it, alternating with cries, then turning the two strains into a mantra I shall call New Knee Mantra.
Yesterday I moaned because I was nauseated; the two days before that I moaned with the pain. It's a trade-off, looks like---you get one or the other, not both if you're lucky.
Janet gave me a precious gift: she had taken home a piece of furniture in my bathroom and painted it a perfect shade of red. (I'd tried another red and it was ghastly!) So she and Bill delivered it and set it up in the bathroom and it is beautiful, exactly what I was going for.
Then Victoria went to the pharmacy to pick up some new nausea medicine, brought me a few pieces of steak and a brownie and a red sketchbook. The medicine and few bites of steak worked like a charm and I stopped moaning and slept happily like the proverbial baby!
Luci is concerned when I moan, but then she dives under the covers and puts her head on my knee or just sits quietly and gazes at me. Gina--who comes to clean and help me a few days a week--said "You're her whole world, of course she's worried."
Luci is the sort of dog who rarely makes a sound. She's a quiet dog who barks only briefly when someone comes inside for the first time, then quits when I hug that person. "OH, these are our people!" she wags. She now loves them all, including Gina and the physical therapist. She has a particular affinity for Chris who rubs my legs and guides me through the moves. The whole time he's working on my legs, she's licking his hands!
So this morning, I've had some wonderful phone calls, starting with Carlene's, and Will came and made me grits and took Luci for a walk and drove me to the bank. I am not moaning today. I feel very good--thanks to friends, family, two new red gifts, and getting the meds just right.
