It’s been a full week, so I guess it’s safe to say that I survived shoulder surgery. It still remains to be seen if I will survive rehabilitation.
I’ve been meaning for the past week to write a post about the surgery, but every time I’ve sat down and tried to read, check my e-mail, or write, my eyes have crossed and I’ve fallen asleep. Now, thanks to the wonders of Valdez weather, I’m stuck at the Anchorage airport with nothing else to do for six hours and no chair comfortable enough to sleep in. I think I’ll finally be able to write. I probably won’t post this until I get home, though – I don’t have my camera and can’t include a couple of photos until I get it.
One sign that I’m getting old: men and women my age are in positions of responsibility. It didn’t exactly bother me, but it did strike me as significant that my surgeon, Dr. Rhyneer, appeared to be in his early 40s, and my anesthesiologist at Alaska Regional Hospital was younger. Jonathon, the wonderful (and cute) physician’s assistant I’ve spoken with the most, can’t be over 35.
At least with youth came great senses of humor. Dr. Rhyneer thought my 7:30 surgery last Monday was supposed to be at 8:30. Everyone laughed as I lay on the gurney, still aware for a few more minutes, and told him that I was going to dock his pay for being late.
The next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to Dr. Rhyneer saying, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, biceps tendon, blah, blah, blah.” He went to talk with Mom, too, but all she managed to get out of the conversation was that my shoulder was much worse than he expected and that bicycling didn’t make it so. Before I could even keep my eyes open, the nurses hustled me out the door and into mom’s car. I just kept the hospital gown on because it was easier than trying to change given the sling supporting my arm and the cryocuff encasing my shoulder (and circluting blessed ice water).
Talk to anyone who’s had rotator cuff surgery and you’ll hear about pain. I’ve heard that shoulder surgery is the most painful there is. Luckily, the anesthesiologist gave me a block before surgery by injecting drugs into my shoulder all around the nerve bundle that runs from the neck down the arm. The block was supposed to eliminate all pain for 12 – 36 hours after surgery. Of course, for me it only lasted 12 hours.
Over the previous weekend, I’d filled prescriptions for double-strength Percocet (for severe pain) and Vicodin (for moderate pain). Before going to bed Monday night I took one of the Percocet, just in case the block wore off during the night. I took two more when I got up, but by early afternoon I was calling the doctor’s office and telling Jonathan, “I took two Percocet three hours and forty-five minutes ago, and am pacing back and forth waiting for 15 minutes to pass so I can take more. I need something else.” Bless him, he immediately wrote me a prescription for Dilaudid. For the next couple of days I would take either two Percocet (during the day) or two Dilaudid (at night – it knocked me out) every four hours. By the end of the week I was down to one pill every five hours, but boy, I know it if I go longer. I’m hoping the scowl won’t become a permanent feature.
I spent most of the week sitting, either in the wing-backed chair in Mom’s living room or trying to sleep in the minimalist recliner in her computer room. Provided I kept up on the pain meds and didn’t overdo being up and about, the most discomfort I’ve had has been from my butt hurting from so much sitting.
Out of desperation, I tried to sleep in a bed Thursday night. I tried sleeping sitting up, reclining on pillows, lying down, with my arm propped up, and even, very, very briefly, with the sling off. No luck. After three hours all I had was a very sore shoulder and a wicked headache. I gave up and went back to the recliner, squirming around to find a new spot on my ass to torture. Soon, soon I hope, I’ll be able to sleep in my bed.
I won’t dwell on the other major issue of the week. Suffice it to say that Mirilax, Milk of Magnesia, and prunes made up a large part of my diet.
This morning I had my one-week post-op appointment with Jonathan. It looks like I’ll have a nice, neat 4-inch scar just forward of the top of my left shoulder. The stitches are all subcutaneous, and they just used steri-strips to hold the skin edges together to avoid puckering. Dr. Rhyneer used three screws to reattach the supraspinatus tendon to the humerus, another screw to attach one of the biceps tendons to the clavicle, and trimmed bone spurs off of the clavicle and another bone.
I need to wear a sling for another month, mostly to give my body a chance to grow bone material around the screws to stabilize them. I’ll start physical therapy in three weeks. Until then, I’m to bend and straighten my elbow daily, as well as allow my arm to dangle while I let it swing in small circles for up to five minutes. I have a feeling that will hurt like hell for at least the next week. I have a note that allows me to take up to six weeks off work, but I can go back as soon as I feel able. I figure I will as soon as sitting without my back fully supported doesn’t make my shoulder ache. Oh, and I have new prescriptions for Dilaudid and Vicodin to get me through the next couple of months. Yee haw!
