Well, it is now two weeks since the operation and I’m still at the General. I’ve been waiting on lab results, allergy tests, antibiotics and pick line installation. The lab results finally showed that I have an infection to some bug or other. The allergy tests demonstrated that I was allergic to the first antibiotic they were giving me so they are now giving me another one by IV which takes longer to administer, three times a day, which means at least one is administered at some ungodly hour resulting in disturbed sleep patterns. Despite a pick line (a semi permanent IV line) being put in, someone said that it might delay my return to the Lindsay as they might not be able to administer it there.
That would be ghastly as the antibiotic regime is supposed to last about six weeks, medical time which is annoyingly elastic. While I am getting some physio here, the sessions are brief to the point that I feel I am losing ground. Among other things, I haven’t been cleared to use my crutches again.
Alice is coming in next week. There has been some discussion as to whether she might be able to administer the antibiotic which would allow us to go out to North Hatley for a day or two to celebrate Mummy’s 80th birthday. There seems to be the notion that as a medical professional she might be allowed once given the proper instruction. However, there is a distinct amount of medical dithering, ass-covering and poor communication around the General.
Not to mention poor cooperation between professionals. An example of this occurred the day after the operation when one of the ortho team came to adjust the screws on my Taylor spatial frame. It was the second such adjustment of the day. He had to remove a cloth bandage around the frame to make the adjustments. However, when it came time to put the cloth bandage back, he seemed to be all thumbs and this was stressing me out. Also, my leg was getting tired from holding itself in the air for his ease. Eventually, I got fed up to the point that I asked him to please get someone who really knew how to apply a bandage to help him. To his credit, he did so readily that I think he had wanted help but was too proud to admit it.
The bandages are now gone and I have too good a view of my lower left leg. Too good as it is very hard to resist picking at it. I have devised a way to cover part of it with my side snap trousers. Out of sight, out of mind.
I am finding easier to cope being here at the General than during my first visit. One very important factor is that I can hop in my wheelchair and see the sights as well as do things like go for coffee or peruse the books at the Deja lu Book Nook. While doing so one time, I asked if I might take a look through the Lonely Planet guide to Bolivia. I was disappointed that La Cancha wasn’t mentioned in the entries for Cochabamba. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t jump at the chance at going back to the Lindsays.
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