On a room change

Today began far too early considering that I had hard time getting to sleep at around 6 AM, when someone came in to take a blood sample. I was too bleary to ask if it was for medical or legal purposes. I went back to sleep.

I was next awoken by the arrival of breakfast. This I delayed eating until I had roused myself. Shortly thereafter, I called for a patient attendant to deal with a bodily function. Before I could tell her, she said that I was to be transferred to a new room in short order. I said very well, but first things first. What with one thing and another, there was a general cleansing of my person which included my first real hair wash since the 1st of September. Huzzah! They used a slightly comical looking, but effective inflatable basin to do it in. Among other things, it had a drainage tube. This made funny noises while in use which caused me to giggle. One of the PA’s misinterpreted my expression as one of pain.

I was then transferred across the hall and down to a room with a view worthy of the name. It looks out across a wooded suburban street which currently features a lot of bright yellow leaves. One of the PA said that it snowed overnight and sure enough there was snow on a rooftop.

I had scarcely begun to settle in, when a nurse came in to inspect my leg wounds and change my bandages. This ended up as something of an epic of medical second guessing. Last week, or the week before, the nurses at the General had removed the stitches from my left leg. However, there had been four on the back of my leg that had been apparently overlooked. So this morning, the nurse set about removing them. She was also horrified that someone had applied a large, sticky bandage on a donation graft sight on my upper left leg. She spent some time carefully removing it, before placing an appropriate bandage on it. Except she then changed her mind about what type of bandage and redid it. During this time, there were several interruptions from a PA who was relaying various messages about assorted issues. One of these was from the General saying she shouldn’t remove the four stitches on the back of my leg as they wanted to do it. That was a bit of a problem as the stitches had already been removed. 

The processes involved a certain amount of mild discomfort, nothing really significant. However, my face must have revealed my discomfort as around midway, Alberto, a PA, handed me my Winnie-the-Pooh to hold!

By the time they were finished, it was lunchtime. 

After lunch, I settled down for a snooze. Unfortunately, Victoria the Physio came in before I could relax. During her ministrations, she confirmed a theory I’d had about why I was moved to my current room. In the old room, they’d had to turn my bed 90 degrees in order to use the crane get me into my wheelchair. In the current room, they don’t have to do that. 

Afterwards, there was a session in the chair, a doze and a visit from the Mole. A busy day.

On an absence of malice

I sent a thank you email to Louise which resulted in an exchange of ideas about the driver. Louise wondered if the collision might have been partly deliberate. 

I was surprised by this, as I never considered the notion. While I’ll not deny I hold a great deal of animus towards the driver, I view him as being criminally negligent, irresponsible and a miserable excuse for a human being but not malicious. Arrogant, overconfident, yep. But not evil.

I am not sure where to go with this, so I will seque into what I what would view as a just punishment, namely that after he leaves prison, that he be banned from driving for life and be forced to rely on public transit (which isn’t great in New Brunswick) and biking!

In other news, there was a fire alarm at the Champlain after lunch. Also, about an hour after I had received an email about it, a moose decorated cardigan arrived as ordered by Kristine.

On the wheelchair and elg gifts

I was put in the wheelchair again today. Alberto, weekend wheelchair guy, used a lighter sling to do the job. It featured a tight but light mesh supporting surface and only 2 attachment points per side instead of 4. In the photo below, the lighter sling is hanging from the back of the wheelchair, whilst the other one is the back of the brown chair (black with pink straps).

The wheelchair itself is adjustable as to angle of the back and just how the legs are angled and supported. The latter is a big tricky as my left foot is encased in a boot with a large heel. My right is in a sock, so there is a relative height issue. The chair is also not designed to be propelled by the occupant. The wheels are caster wheels, clearly intended for indoor use.

That did not stop the Mole from pushing me outside to enjoy the last gasps of Indian summer and some sunshine. Foresight meant that I had a fleece jacket to wear. It was the first time that I had worn a piece of clothing other than a hospital gown or a sock since the 2nd of September. Unfortunately, neither the Mole or myself remember to bring a camera or iPhone with us.

Back in my room, the Mole produced a package Louise had mailed from Norway. It contained a variety of items themed after my totem animal. The Norwegian word for it is “elg” the root word of “elk”, a term which British settlers of North America applied to the animal sometimes known as wapiti. They adapted the Algonquian word for the species as “moose”. For sake of fun, I going to use “elg” to describe alces alces related things for the rest of this entry.

There was a small card with an elg drawn on it by Tessa who will be 6 in January. There was a package of slices of dry elg and juniper berry sausage, a small can of elg candies (anis flavoured), an elg key chain and a pair of boxer shorts with elg on them. Last but not least was a pair of socks which evidently were meant to signal support for Norway’s vibrant LGBTQ elg community. ;-)

On a blood sample, a better way to get into a wheelchair and co-workers

Okay, let me see, in what order did everything happen today?

I guess the first thing is that I got a call from the RCMP about the collision. It seems they found traces of blood on the suspect’s vehicle. Would I consent to giving a blood sample? He was about to go on with the relevant due diligence when I answered: “Yes, yes, yes! I would be happy too!” I didn’t say “I’ll do anything to nail that S.O.B., preferably to the floor!” He went on to say that he would contact the Montreal Police to collect a blood sample. He again went into a due diligence mode which I cut short observing that any number of blood samples had been taken from me since the incident and that one more made no difference. I hope I wasn’t too brusque to the officer.

In the afternoon, the occupational therapist and Alberto, a patient attendant, arrived with a reclining back wheelchair that they believed was my size. After placing a harness under me, they attached it to overhead crane. With one of them holding my legs, I was lifted up, moved sideways and gently put into the wheelchair. No muss, not much fuss, and, sure as hell, none of the trauma of my previous wheelchair experiment. 

Shortly thereafter, two of my co-workers arrived. One of them was Mearaid, my supervisor, and Katie, who is in charge of Home Library Services, previous known as the Shut-In Service. (When the name of the service changed, I joked that that the way to remember it was to think HLS = Hells, as in Hells Grannies, referring to the Monty Python sketch.) They brought with them a card signed by my co-workers, and an embarrassing number of gifts, including a lovely Discworld T-shirt which featured an illustration of the Librarian from Unseen University. Katie pushed me down the hall to the “Vivoir” room which had a corner view of the outside world. I believe it has multiple purposes, as it features a nice table to have a game of cards as well as various items suitable for torture, I mean physiotherapy. ;-)

Katie and Mearaid

We chatted for some time, before they had to return to work. I was pulled back to my room, where I waited for the relevant parties to get me back into my bed. When this was done, a flaw in the system emerged. My bed had been turned perpendicular to the crane track and in the process, the bed’s air pump was disconnected. The mattress was surprisingly low on air, at least the bit below my rump which let it settle on a metal cross member. While the air pump was reconnected, it sure is taking an awfully long time to re-inflate. 

On an initial session with the Champlain physio

This afternoon I had a visit from first the occupational therapist (OT) who took some measurements of yours truly in order to determine which wheelchair I should be assigned. There are a range of wheelchair types and sizes. At some level, I had known this but never given it much thought. The OT said the physio would be along shortly as she left.

When Victoria the physio arrived, she set to work assessing my damaged limbs for degrees of mobility and strength. In process, she spent some time explaining how when the application was made for me to move here, she insisted that I had to be in a private room given my immobility and the issues getting me in and out of a wheelchair. (One of the features of this room is a roof mounted crane for just such a purpose. I don’t know how many rooms in this facility have them.) Hearing this encouraged me greatly. We discussed some of my long-term worries including whether I will have the nerve to get back on the bike. She made a very sensible observation to start somewhere small and safe, with a trusted helper. This made perfect sense to me and I elaborately slightly on the theme. I also said that the obvious, trusted helper was in his mid-seventies.

A few minutes later, said obvious, trusted helper knocked on the door. The Mole arrived for a planned visit. He has worked with physios and knows a lot of the really useful questions. Unfortunately, this led to Victoria recounting a “war story” in bit too much detail for my comfort. I politely asked her not to go any further.

A good day.

Addendum:

The Mole delivered a packet of chocolate mint Girl Guide cookies which had been mailed to me from Sioux Lookout by the usual suspects on behalf of Margo, who wasn’t able to secure any in Vancouver.

On getting to the Centre d’Hébergement Champlain

I waited too long for my ambulance on Tuesday. Most of the days was spent fretting. It was only about 3 when the two paramedics showed up with a stretcher. The two older men were pretty much out central casting for blue collar Québécois. The driver, Eugène, was wearing an orange union shirt as a protest of something or other union related. When it came time to deal with my bags, he put on my red klettersack. The other one, who had neatly trimmed white sideburns that went nearly to his mouth,, grumbled a lot about the suspension of the ambulance and mentioned how back when he started in 1977, they had Cadillac ambulances with air coil suspensions. I did notice a ride difference from my previous ambulance ride and said so with intent of mentioning that it may have been partly because I had been under the effects of various pain killers and sedatives. However, he then repeated his rant about the old Cadillac ambulances. It must have been a shift change when we arrived as there were a number staff leaving, including one with a bike helmet in hand. I was tempted to give her a wave and a cheer.

He did say that the Champlain facility was a good rehab place which did much to ease my worried mind. The CIUSS-Sud-Ouest website had given me virtually no useful information about it. The facility, well, the downsides are that my private room only has a poor view of the interior courtyard, there is an annoying outdoor light display in said courtyard, and that French is working language here. I am bilingual, but it can be hard when you don’t know the right words. Other than that, everything is better. The room seems twice the size, though part of that is through better layout. It is in much better shape. The bed is much more comfortable. The food is miles better.  For one thing, it gets to my room hot! The pièce de résistance for my first meal was chicken with a cheese-pesto sauce. The staff are nicer on average than those at the General.

Today has been mostly about settling in. Various departments have poked and prodded me, unwrapped and re-wrapped my leg, and asked and answered a lot of questions. Mummy and Joey came in and put up Anna’s poster and thumbtacked a selection of get well cards to a bulletin board. 

In talking with physio lady, it seems an early priority will be working on getting me in and out of a wheelchair. I have no qualms about this.

On my new room

I am now at the Centre d’Hébergement Champlain in a largish private room. So far the only downside is the view isn’t very nice. Just about everything else better. I am also tired so details will come in a later entry.

On the fast approaching move

It took a long time to get to sleep last night. I was awoken by the arrival of breakfast at 8. I promptly went back to sleep. I was re-awoken at 9 by the arrival of one of the ortho people who informed me that I was to be taken to be X-rayed, then have some staples and sutures taken out. He also said that I would shortly be transferred to convalesce. This was a lot to take in, especially before having eaten breakfast. I never did get breakfast (beyond one of Dominique’s double chocolate cookies) as the stretcher arrived and away I went to radiology.

It will not surprise anyone that the Montreal General Hospital has several X-ray rooms. I have been in several, but this was the first one with windows to the outside. It made the process more pleasant. They took X-rays of my pelvis and left leg. 

Back in my room, two nurses began the process of removing stitches and surgical staples from my pelvis and left leg. I left my bed at a low angle to avoid having see the leg. After a bit, I asked for my iPhone in order listen to some distracting music.

The lead nurse told me that I would be moving to the Centre d’Hébergement Champlain in Verdun. I was disappointed to learn that it would either today or tomorrow. Disappointed, as I had been hoping that my pelvic fixations would be removed before I went to convalesce. She also said the window for moving me was between 1 and 3 in the afternoon. Given that it is past three thirty as I write this, I can only assume the transfer will be tomorrow.

As is often case, your humble correspondent is ambivalent about this.

On solvents

Full disclosure, this entry was written after some of the later entries but was moved up in the chronology to better reflect when it happened.

Ever since I have been at the General, there was a piece of surgical tape stuck to the upper right hand plastic guardrail. At some last week, I removed it as it annoyed me. Unfortunately, it left behind some adhesive which was even more annoying. When Philip phoned to see if he and Dominique might visit today, I asked him to bring in some solvent to remove the goo.

When they arrived, Philip came around the bed to my right side, opened his backpack and said: “I brought you two solvents. First, the more expensive kind from Scotland.” I was somewhat confused by this, and it was only when he produce a very small Mason jar with a light brown liquid it and a Glencairn glass that I tumbled to it: he was offering me a wee dram of what turned out to be Springbank single malt. I accepted. Dominique suggested getting some ice. I made a cross with my arms and cheerfully said: “Retro vadis, Satanico!” A back of water, yes. Ice, never.*

The single malt was drunk, the goo removed and news exchanged. Eventually, it was time for them to leave.

Not too long later, my cousin Michel arrived. We had a good chat before he left.

* My uncle Donald is reputed to have said that there is an exception to this rule, namely when are in Hong Kong in summer without air conditioning. My response to that is that you need to find a tipple better suited to the circumstances. A Singapore sling for example.

On maps over compasses

For some reason, I keep thinking about something that happened during a geography lesson in my third year of high school. The module was about navigating in the wild. The teacher asked us would we rather have a compass or a map if we couldn’t have both. If my memory is correct, everyone else wanted the compass. I was the only one who wanted the map. The teacher approved of my answer. I have sometimes wondered why I was the only one. My best theory is that I been on enough hikes to know and read maps.

I also have theory on why I was thinking about that incident. I believe it was yesterday, but a nurse or doctor commented that my healing process wouldn’t be sprint but a marathon. I muttered that it was all very well, but I would like a map of the route!

On a mirror

My previous entry referred to using an iMirror, that is an iPad in selfie camera mode. After 40 days in this room, I have just discovered that the sliding drawer on the moving table has a mirror in it!

Critical failure on the observation roll.

On a trim, the RCMP, and a wheelchair

Mummy came in with a pair of barbers’ scissors this morning. With them and the iMirror, I was able to trim my beard. Not particularly well, but it feels better to me. (Comments about electric beard trimmers will not be posted.)

Then we spoke with the RCMP via speaker phone. It seems the driver is due in court on November 15 to enter a plea relative to his guilt. If he pleads not guilty, then the trial would be in October 2024 or so. We also found out more about his arrest. It seems after his third hit and run that day, his car ended up in the ditch. The RCMP found the car and happened to have a tracking dog with them so they followed the scent and found him walking along the road.

Next my physio came in with a wheelchair. This was expected, but still cause for trepidation. The physio and her assistant discussed how to get me into the wheelchair, before putting their plan into action. It did not got smoothly. At least once, I felt I was about to fall to the floor, coccyx first. However, I was eventually seated in the wheelchair.

The Mole had arrived during the transfer. He, Mummy and I went down the corridor to the western end where there was a sofa and wide views of Montreal. Once there, I promptly broke into tears.

Fear, stress, worry, anxiety, depression. Take your pick. Maybe throw in dismay at how far I have to go. Possibly facilitated by presence of people I trust to comfort me.

We sat and chatted for about three quarters of an hour before the physio found us. I was about ready to go back to bed. Unfortunately, getting out of the wheelchair proved harder than getting in and had me at the edge of panic. The consensus was that next time some sort of crane will be employed given my weight, height, unwieldy limbs and weakness. Here’s to hoping next time goes better.

On Barbara the student nurse

 I had a student nurse assigned to me this afternoon. During the introduction, I found out her name was Barbara. I commented: “Would you believe me if I said both my grandmothers were named Barbara?” This elicited a laugh and she said something like “I’ll be your grandma for today.”

She came in a various times using variations on that theme. One time, I said, “Well, if you are my granny, my bear needs attention,” pointing to Pooh Bear who needs a switch or two. I then made the mistake of explaining his origins, as it caused me to cry.

On a shave and a rumour

It has taken me a month, but I have worked out how to take a shave here at the Hospital. I worked out that I could use the camera function on my iPad as a mirror. Next, I asked a patient attendant if she could bring me a bowl of water, washcloth and a towel. Using the iPad mirror, I could see what I was doing as I shaved my throat and cheeks.

I have now twice heard that I may be getting new bed next week. The controls on the current one don’t work on the right hand side. I hope the new one is more comfortable too.

On a lost soul

This morning, I was taken down to have an echogram of my heart. I believe it was to verify my cardio health after the chest pains I had on Thursday of last week. On the way to cardiology, I saw an odd looking figure walking in front of me. He wore drab clothing, including his ball cap. The exception to this was the lining of his camouflage hunting jacket, which was bright orange. The lining was exposed because he had let the jacket fall off his shoulders to about his elbows revealing another camouflage garment. This struck me as odd.

When we (the hospital porter pushing my stretcher and myself) arrive at the right location, I was parked near the echogram room. The man disappeared down a corridor. A few minutes later, he reappeared in the company of a nurse. Seeing his face, I found my theory that he was Indigenous to be correct. The two went out of my sight, but I could hear their conversation. It seems he was looking for someone but was having a hard time navigating the labyrinth that is the Montreal General Hospital. As well, I got the impression he was overwhelmed by the size of the Hospital. I hope he was guide to where he was meant to go.

After the echogram, I was taken to have my left forearm and wrist X-rayed. While I am a bit squeamish, I almost asked if I might see the results.

On a possible move

Well here is some news. I just got a visit from the liaison nurse. She is in charge of moving patients from A to B. It seems that I might be transferred from here to a convalescent facility, possibly as soon as next week. She didn’t know when exactly, nor where. 

As I live in the South-West borough of Montreal, Santé-Quebec will place me by the wisdom of their computer system in an appropriate facility. The likeliest ones are either Verdun Hospital or some other place whose name eludes me.

I’ll have to come back here for more surgeries, but it seems a step forwards.

On additional uses of Winnie-the-Pooh

While Winnie-the-Pooh has provided emotional support in being someone to hug, he has also been useful in other ways, one of them emotional. He was useful in hiding my lower left leg from my gaze while the dressing was changed. While the medical professional doing so said my leg was “looking good”, I had to remind her that it was so from a medical point of view. My brief glances revealed to me a horror of black scabs and whatnot. By changing the angle of my head and placing Pooh on my chest, I could look out without seeing my leg.

I am slightly ashamed to say that he makes for a good iPad rest on my bed. He is serving that function now.

On progress

Well, it has been a busy and eventful morning. I managed to speak with Ortho. There were a number of questions back and forth such as why was I getting my opioid dose by injection? Neither of us knew, so it is now orally. I later spoke with a pain specialist who was quite informative and reassuring 

I asked about timelines for the next set of operations. It seems the hip fixations are supposed to come out at about 4-6 weeks post operation. I pointed out that they had been installed on the night of September 2nd, so they have been in for 5 weeks at this point, so maybe they will be out next week.

He mentioned by left arm should be healed soonish so I will be able to start putting weight on it. This could mean being to transfer myself into a wheelchair. 

There was also some talk going to rehab soonish for a spell before coming back for more leg surgery. After more than 4 weeks in this room, any change would be nice. 

Then it was decided remove my Foley catheter. I had a few minor fears about this. They proved to be irrelevant. So I am starting to pee normally.

Progress.

On visitors and Grey’s Anatomy vs the Montreal General Hospital

My sandwich being prepared

Today was quite a sociable day. First Mummy and Stephen arrived with turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie. Late in the afternoon, James came by with a turkey dinner. Late in his visit, Peter McN. came by to say hello.

I think I am doing better up top. I still don’t know where I am at in the hip and left leg department.

For many years, I watched Grey’s Anatomy on DVD. I stopped when it ceased to be released on DVD. For those of you not in the know, it revolves about the lives of surgeons at a hospital in Seattle. You knew it was Seattle because of the establishing shots and the fact that it rains a fair bit. The series, being filmed in California, indicates the presence of rain by lighting and sound effects which include lightning and thunder. That is unfortunate given that there is rarely lightning in Seattle.

The reason I mention the series is that I realize that it shapes my perception of what a hospital should look like and should have. One of these is the size of the patient rooms. Probably because of the needs of filming, they are bigger on Grey’s Anatomy than in the old Montreal General Hospital. Also, later in the series, I seem to recall the doctors using tablets for their notes and records. Here they are using pieces of paper, some of them a bit random. Others are taking pictures of the results with their smartphones.

On the popularity of Winnie-the-Pooh

On Thursday, I was having a physio session when the physio (a younger woman, of anglophone Chinese descent) noticed my Winnie-the-Pooh. She commented favourably about him and was impressed that he had been made by my Granny. 

In contrast, her assistant, an older Québécois man, had no idea what we were talking about. I have a sneaking suspicion that Winnie-the-Pooh was too “anglais” back in the day, and by the time Disney started marketing the franchise, he wasn’t in the market. Rather interesting though.

On a delayed operation and brotherly visits

 It has been a tough week. I was supposed to surgery to remove dead skin on my left leg on Monday. However, it kept on getting pushed back until I was told after 10 PM that it wasn’t going to happen that night. So fasting for 24 hours for nothing. Surgery rescheduled for Wednesday. After fasting from about 11 PM on Tuesday, I only went to the OR at 10:30 PM on Wednesday. It seemed to take forever for the surgeons to fill out various documents before operating under a spinal anaesthetic plus something that made me drowsy. I fell asleep during the operation and woke up in the recovery room around 1 AM. Between waiting for my lower body to wake up and an absent staff member, it was around 4 AM by the time I got back to my room where I failed to get back to sleep. 

I think I pushed myself at physio later that morning as I developed chest and shoulder pains later in the day. This cut short a visit by Mummy and my brother Philip.

Yesterday, a rash developed on my arms. I think it was a cleaning session that got interrupted by cardio changing the dressing my left leg that caused in. No fun at all.

Stephen visited me twice today. He proved that he is my brother by asking what type of Learjet had I flown in. I proved that I am myself by knowing it was a Learjet 35.

Alice bought me a pair of noise cancelling headphones. I was surprised at how effective they were.