I haven’t blogged for the longest time, which helps to illustrate the main thrust of this post. (I’ve got so many pent-up blogging topics that posting might be a daily event for a while, so gird your loins.)
I’ve had a ‘disability’ for about five weeks now. My left arm is in a sling 24/7 after my shoulder operation mid-August and will stay there for another week, then two more weeks at least before I can drive then six or more months before everything can be considered to be back to normal.
Yes this is just a temporary disability, and it’s on the mild side. For those who face anything like this –or worse, permanently, physical, mental or emotional – I salute you. And to take part in the Paralympics or Invictus Games or whatever – superheroes every one of you.
The sling is to stop me engaging my rotator cuff while it tries to repair itself. What a pain. Literally as well as figuratively. Immediately after the op I was popping opiates like Tic Tacs. I gradually weaned myself down to eight paracetamol a day, then six, and now I take just two every now and again (washed down with wine or gin after the sun has gone over the yardarm).
But one thing I am struggling to shift is excessive tiredness and brain fog, not necessarily at the same time. (Is that then two things I’m struggling with?) I can’t decide whether it’s the after-effects of the general anesthetic, a short or longer-term consequence of reduced flow of oxygen to the brain for about half a day, or the energy necessary to heal the shoulder draining the rest of me.
Not-so quick explanation about the lack of oxygen thing. Shoulders have lots of nerves, so operations are excruciating. To try and control the pain in the immediate aftermath, the anesthetist injected a ‘nerve block’ into my neck that numbed the shoulder for about 12 hours (yeah – the shoulder down to the fingers, the neck itself, part of my face and obviously part of my brain). It even numbed part of the diaphragm, which meant I wasn’t taking deep-enough breaths. Consequently, my blood-ox levels were stuck at 92 instead of 96 or 97. Needless to say I was alarmed, but when the nurse said not to worry we’ll put you on oxygen overnight – me? Oxygen? OVERNIGHT? – I nearly fainted (hold that thought). Up the nostrils went the little pipe things and as well as not being able to get comfortable in bed, I had this whoosh sound all night long, and a cold draft of air at the back of my nose and throat. Hence a sore throat and headache quickly added to my woes.
Next morning I was back up to 96, and hungry. Good sign. I ordered porridge for breakfast and it was jolly nice. About two-thirds in, I suddenly had a hot flush (yup, still getting those). It got more intense to the point of me feeling dizzy, ears ringing and sweaty. I pressed the button and the nurse came in, whisked away my uneaten porridge (harumph), took my blood pressure (85 / 45 instead of my usual 120/75), feet up, head down and back to the ruddy oxygen.
I had two more milder BP-plummets that morning, the nerve block started to wear off, and I called for pain killers before I really needed them (I had been told not to ‘chase the pain’) and when one opiate didn’t do the biz, I insisted on another one. All in all the nurses assumed they had me for another night. But the surgeon had other ideas. He popped in to see how I was while I was trying to eat a cheese sandwich for lunch. How are you, he asked. Feeling awful thanks to you, I snapped. Well you can go home, he retorted. If you can eat you’re lunch and talk to me like that you’re doing fine.
The nurses were surprised, so was Hubby when I summonsed him to come pick me up, but there you have it.
Recovery has been steady but the brain has decided it quite likes being numb, and the rest of me is being really lazy. I go for a walk, two - three miles say so no big deal but don’t tell the physio as she said little wanders only, and accompanied. Screw that. I feel great while walking alone, get home, sit down with a cuppa and really don’t want to get up again until bedtime. Participating in meetings (Zoom) is also problematic. On Monday morning I was chairing, and three times had to guillotine a conversation or an interruption. Instead of my usual good-humour and subtle approach, I was brutal. We’ve discussed this topic long enough, said one chap. No we haven’t I snapped. We’ll carry on for a few more minutes. Later on I interrupted someone else with an I don’t want a full tour of all UK airports, thank you very much. Next agenda item. And under AOB, Stop flogging a dead horse, please. I’m closing the meeting.
Ooh er.
Cerebral activity therefore has to be rationed and prioritised; as the blog is for me and only me and does no one else any good whatsoever it gets pushed to the bottom of the pile, along with piano-playing, experimenting with recipes, and choosing a new laptop. Regarding the latter, I thought I’d come up with a good strategy – just google “best laptops 2021” and the answer would fall into my … er … lap (get it?) It did appear that most reviews favoured the Dell XPS 13 and I decided this must be the one for me. Except …
… it sounded a tad expensive, and I really didn’t want to pay for stuff I’d never use. I worked out that the expense was partly due to the “OLED” screen, which apparently gives you a really clear picture. Do I really need that for Zoom meetings and PowerPoint presentations, max? And while reading up on the OLED screen I found something even less palatable – it doesn’t do touchscreen. I love my current touchscreen capability.
Another reason the XPS is so expensive is it’s excessively engineered to be very thin and lightweight, which suits me fine as I can easily pop my laptop into my work handbag. The downside is there’s no room for USB-A ports for my memory sticks and other peripherals that I’m used to. What there is is a a couple of Thunderbolt-4 ports, and Dell provides a USB-C to USB-A cable. Errrr, wouldn’t a Thunderbolt-4 to USB-A cable be more use? Hubby patiently explained that T-4 was compatible with USB-C (or would that be the other way round) so I’d be fine.
One reviewer wrote, “A UMTS, HSPA or LTE module for connecting to mobile broadband is not available. The user will have to fall back on external options like a mobile UMTS router, tethering via smartphone or USB dongles when required.”
WTF does that mean? Hubby to the rescue again: “Basically means you do not have 4G in machine - so can only connect through a wifi network (or though an external 4G source like my phone using it as a local hotspot).”
WTF does that mean? “That’s what you have now!”
That’s ok then.
So it’s just the non-touchscreen that I don’t like, but then Hubby found that the previous XPS 13 version was still available with the non-OLED screen (I’m sure it has a technical name but I really can’t be bothered to learn it), so I’ve made my decision.
This decision-making-process by the way took me six days because I kept getting mentally overwhelmed. What kept me coming back to it was my addiction to spending Hubby’s money, and my sis complaining that she was going to throw her laptop out of the window and didn’t I say I would buy a new one and give her mine? Given that she has taken eight-weeks unpaid leave to live with Mum while I’m incapacitated, I really ought to just buy her the new one. But I’m not THAT generous.
Given all the brouhaha over one meeting and one purchase, what on earth would I be like if I were permanently in pain, drugged up, recovering, adjusting …. Doesn’t bear thinking about. How I admire people with disabilities who don’t complain (about the disability that is, but who are well within their rights to complain about other stuff such as inadequate health care) and just get on with it because it’s normal and long-lasting for them.
Maybe everyone should spend a day or so in a wheelchair or with pins sticking into nerve ends to get a taste of a truly tough life. That would help them put their own perceived woes into perspective – woes such as a shortage of avocados, being asked to get a PCR test before flying, and relying on air-brushed photo shoots and asinine awards for your next million-dollar pay cheque or stache of ‘blood diamonds’.
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