I'm nearly two weeks post-op from what I'm told was "extensive spinal surgery."
I went in that late morning with a pain siege headache, so the pre-op people put an iv in and pain meds to tone down the headache. They did not want me going into the operation with that much pain already.
I was unaware, but after surgery there was a problem. I would stop breathing with every breath or nearly so. I'm not sure as it didn't bother me! Other than at first when aware, I know I was quite surprised that I had not died this time. I cannot say it to most, but I had been hoping and rather excitedly looking forward to the Lord taking me with Him, this time around.
But no, there was nothing during surgery. No glorious encounter with God, no unforgettable thought-flashing with the Almighty. There was nothingness, and then off and on eyes open in recovery. I had no notion of time. I do recalls them telling me to keep my eyes open, to breathe. Then they got me up once--oh, I remember as was horrifically painful. No brace I realize now; just up as they tried to get me to not just exhale, but to take the next breath.
I remember some nurse telling me--must have been toward the end of the recovery in which I found out later was in ICU Recovery--that my daughter was terribly upset, shaken.
I remember at some point her being in there, also trying to get me to breathe, to keep my eyes open, to even talk if I could--for when one talks, there is breath. I remember wanting them to leave me alone so I could just drift off, as I was tremendously tired and pained.
Toward the end of that episode, they were putting some mask on me and hooked me up to a machine that forced air into the mouth and lungs, forcing the intake and then forcing the exhale, of oxygen. My daughter later told me that the surgery actually went well. She was told I'd be out of recovery in 90 minutes; they told her to go on up to my room--which she also said, had a marvelous view way up on top floor of hospital--gorgeous view.
But after a couple hours or so passed as she sat waiting in the room, she went to the floor desk and inquired. Oh, she'll be along any time now. So the daughter waited, and waited some more. Every so often she'd ask again and be told I'd be up any time. Finally, after about five or six hours, if I recall what she told me--was quite a time period--she was definitely alarmed and knew something had to be wrong.
She bypassed the floor station and went back down to the surgery floor and inquired. That is when she found out I was in Recovery ICU having problems breathing. I do recall one nurse or someone saying they thought I was dead, was white as white could be. None of it phased me, I can assure you. But they called the daughter back into the Recovery ICU where later she told me she never wants to have any surgery, for all the suffering and reality of people coming out of anesthesia; and I know my difficulty with breathing did not help, probably.
So after 7 1/2 hours in there, I was sent to the neurosurgery floor, but regrettably, I lost my room with the view. They put me in a room close to the nurses' station, hooked up to that awful machine, where the nurses could better monitor my breathing. The machine would make a terrible racket every time I did not breathe, which was often despite the air being forced in and then some other aspect that tried to force it out. Whatever, I lived through it, but got no rest the first night.
They figured it had to be something to do with the anesthetic. Actually, I was quite impressed, thinking that this was not so bad, after all; I was not feeling horrific pain. Perhaps my years of chronic pain were an advantage?
The surgeon increased one of the pain meds and did an instant release rather than extended release, once the anesthetic started to wear off, for then I was not feeling so pleased with being able to manage pain. It was quite rugged, in fact.
But the instant release did not go well with me. So I ended up with pain out of control and rather loopy. I forget which day but think that was the second day and night. So the nurse got the surgeon's PA to switch to the extended release of that pain med, and the next day the pain was kept under control until that night. Then I thought it a bright idea to just take half of one of the two strong pain meds, as I figured if that did not go well, I could then take the half I had not taken.
Not in this day and age of pain med extremism! The nurse felt so terrible; she informed me in less than an hour when I realized I did indeed need the full amount, that I could not have more until the next regular pain med time--a little over three hours hence. So she brought muscle relaxant, as I could take that. Did not make a dent, though. I did not sleep until way after the next pain med time for when pain is out of control, it takes all the longer to get it back into control.
Live and learn. For any of you facing surgery, keep in mind these details. Take all your pain meds when given or you will not have more until the next, set time. Don't trust yourself when a day or two or three post-op. In fact, for me, nearing the two-week mark, I just last night had the first night that I got it all together. I woke up with phone alarm and took the proper amount of pain meds, back to sleep, woke again with alarm, next amount of pain meds, then awake. Pain not out of control and did not mix up which pain med to take, and did not doze back off forgetting I'd not taken the meds.
There is a lot more to this, but I also advise to not necessarily listen to hospital people calling before your surgery. The ones who called me to go over pre and post op matters at home, totally downplayed the situation. I can't blame them. They go by the usual practices, perhaps of regular stenosis spine surgeries. So I was told I'd not need a walker, would be able to get my own food, might not need a brace but if did would have it given in the hospital. Same with walker, when I questioned that--was told if I need one would get one in the hospital.
I'd mentioned Home Health Care if needed. Probably not needed, but if so, would be arranged by the hospital. Said I would not need to go to a rehab facility. Okay, fine. I thought that seemed good, actually. All that I was hearing seemed good. (There was no mention of an ice machine/pump being sent home in which someone would need to learn how to empty and refill with fresh ice two or so times a day.)
So the day comes that the surgeon thinks fine to go home. Due to the nights without sleep and the days then of wiping out being up once or twice with physical therapist and not having had all the occupational therapy needed, I said I really thought prudent if I stay that night and leave next morning. But not long after in comes a surgeon's staff person who was insistent that I was going home that day, no problem. When was my daughter coming to take me?
I said she had been working all morning so had not been able to get a hold of her. "Well, then, you'd better start calling around and find someone to come pick you up because you are going home today!" I tried to explain I had no one else, but there was no listening; the staff person had whisked off. Not longer after the daughter arrived and was upset, knowing I was not ready to go home. The son had called from afar, upset that I was going home. However, I grasped what was going on, and the issue was that they have a routine for spine surgery patients, and I am pretty sure that they have some or many who simply fear going home at the last minute, so like a baby bird, need to be shoved out of the nest.
While that was not me--there had been no night in the hospital that I'd slept other than the last, for two hours--and I'd not had much PT due to that and the first day very little due to the not-breathing problem in Recovery ICU; and I'd not had some necessary occupational therapy.
So when the discharge manager or someone told my daughter I needed the dressings changed the next day, and it was best done after I was showered, the daughter had to insist on Home Health Care to be set up, as I had not been taught nor worked with on shower transfer, nor had anyone to change the bandage. The daughter was concerned even getting me home. She had injured her elbow badly and said she'd not even be able to help lift me out of the car if need be.
But I realized we just had to go with the flow, and within I knew the Lord would take care of me. The daughter was getting the idea, too, that there were not considerations for exceptions. And, the surgeon's staff did not know me well enough to know that I'm not one to hang on to hospital any longer than necessary. But, regardless, the decision was made and nothing was going to deter it.
It was rough, and if not for the daughter insisting they get a Home Health Care intake nurse here the next day as well as a shower aide to handle that, and a physical and occupational therapist to teach me what I'd not had a chance to learn or to build stamina in the hospital--I'd not have fared well here. As it was, it has been quite the challenge. Fortunately, the pain is such that the days and nights fade into one another.
The people at the parish who volunteer to take meals to people in my predicament, have been bringing light fare and for two, as the parish nurse said that way I'd have for the next day. She wrote in the instructions to put items into baggies or little containers that could be brought back to bed with me using a walker. Oh, yes, I most definitely have a walker. It will be with me for quite some time.
And there is a brace, too, that I must have on securely any time I so much as stand up, which is not often. The pain is far more than I or I can conclude, my pain doctor ever anticipated. As well, though, to not anticipate such pain prior to surgery. The pain doctor and I figured on two types of meds and one of the twice and day and the other five times a day. The surgeon reminded me that this surgery is far more than the type of surgery we were basing the other on, and had me on the twice a day one--extended release, not the awful instant release--but on twice the dose of the other med, and that six times a day. Thus my pain meds are running out, but the past three days I have been tapering down the one medication by 1/4 and stretching the times to five times a day, most always.
Another unexpected occurred the evening before last. I had been up with the walker that morning with the PT, and we walked around the living/kitchen/bedroom with her timing it. I made it to a little over 7 minutes--a record thus far! But it obviously was too much, for within three hours a spinal headache took hold. Since I cannot take nsaids, the crushed Super Strength Excedrin was not an option. I suffered and suffered all that night.
(I've had these spinal headaches since the 1987 back-to-back surgeries, and regular pain med does not help; but oddly enough, about 15 years ago someone suggested I try a BC packet--ground aspirin with caffeine, and that helps ward it off if I take it early on.) By morning I was in excruciating head pain, although I'm pretty sure the lumbar pain was hanging in. The shower aide came and went; she could see there was no way I could get up to do that ordeal, as sitting on a shower chair was out of the question, and trying to even get to the bathroom was questionable.
The nurse arrives and had me call the neurosurgeon's exchange. A surgeon called back and said yes, take one Excedrin, two at most, just to get the spinal headache to temper itself. Indeed, it did help a little--enough for the nurse to change the dressings and to tell me the incision is looking good! She said it is 10" long and starting to heal at the top due to a small line of scab forming! Excellent news! No drainage; the drain in the hospital had done its work.
So it goes. The pain is too much to do any reading other than I still look on the laptop and read the daily Mass readings, even if they remain in the Order of the Present Moment. I've kept up some with news even though those events, including the terrible Mass shootings, tend to remain in the Order of the Present Moment.
The neighbor children, by the grace of God, come morning and night to empty the ice pump's water and put in fresh ice. The meals come M-W-F enough for an extra day each, plus have come a bag of ice to help fill in the ice pump's space. Otherwise they use water bottles that are frozen. (My daughter and son-in-law the first two days got all matters here figured out, and anything at all needed that the nurse said I'd need, purchased and here, set up, before they had to leave out-of-state. There were other people involved in the trip, who made expenditures; it would have been wrong to have cancelled on them, and again, I knew within that the Lord would provide. He knew I had no option. There was no way the staff person was going to diverge from the usual plan, and home I'd go.)
I do realize that probably psychologically, a person at home is more forced or motivated, to get up and walk around with the walker, or also, most of the patients have regular stenosis surgeries and not the added extensive surgery. I am not blaming anyone, other than if there is a next time, of which I hope in God not, I will arrange in advance and insist in advance that the old hermit needs to be in a rehab facility for the first week. If I don't need that post op, I can always cancel.
I forgot to mention at one time an Episcopalian female hospital chaplain stopped by. It was the afternoon the pain was out of control and I was loopy from the instant release med that I'll never take again. She wanted to talk about various things, of which I of course don't remember much other than she mentioned she noticed I was Catholic. She wanted to talk of religious matters, such as do I believe the soul is different than the spirit, or is the spirit the same as the soul? Mercy! Not again! Somehow non-Catholics often enough seem to have notions about what Catholics might believe or think. I do know I took it on, and prayed for the Holy Spirit to use the words necessary.
I recall recommending to her to read Teresa of Avila's books plus to read John of the Cross' Collected Works, plus added on Richard Knowles small but excellent volume of What Is Mysticism. These had been fresh on my mind in some conversation with someone other, perhaps the pain doctor, or what I thought I might recommend to him since he's shown he's concerned about Catholics' beliefs. Whatever, time passed, and I felt a tad guilty as I'd used that talking time to help distract from the out of control pain. I am grateful to the woman, and she did seem to want to discuss, obviously.
Regardless, all this, I did not bother telling others that I am a consecrated Catholic hermit and that is why I do not have a bevy of friends who were going to stop by off and on every day, or neighbors I knew well who'd handle the ice machine, or other family members free from new job and demanding jobs to drop all and come tend me, when I had been lead to believe by hospital personnel before surgery, that it was not going to require others to help.
It just goes to show that when we say we live alone, other people have a certain notion of what that means, and it is not an actuality of living alone, such as in the silence of solitude, in the prayer and praise of God, in the espousal of vows and professing the three Evangelical Counsels, as a consecrated Catholic hermit has done nearly two decades ago.
The Lord has provided! The woman from the parish also brought His Real Presence in the tangible mystical form of the Host. The daughter and family are back in the area and will be here in the morning to take this pained carcass, brace, wheelchair and whatever else, to the neurosurgery offices for me to be inspected by another PA whom I've not met yet.
I'm getting used to the surgeon's set-up, though. It is quite organized in a way that is not the usual, but it works for them. There is a person to handle ever aspect from beginning to end of patient first being referred to the final appointment presumably later on. I see the surgeon in a month. After that, I presume there might be a follow up later on, or at least a year check up since he told me--and quite honestly and realistically, as I'm finding out--that the recovery will be a year.
Since I survived surgery, I can deduce that the Lord indeed wants me to do the writing I'd thought probably the mission He wants of me, and to continue doing the suffering that is non-stop, that He asks of me and has for years of present moments. More than ever, now, I am learning to exist in the Order of the Present Moment in a peacefulness and contentment of pain in a type of timeless suffering.
All is well! God bless His Real Presence in us! Pray for me that I have the stamina to walker the body from curb to inside the main reception area, where I can have a wheelchair to take me and the walker and grandson and daughter to the neurosurgery office.
I've not had any super profound insights of the other side, since I remained on this side, this time. Yet I've noticed that the pain praying is going quite well; a good friend's spouse is in palliative care and not long for this world of suffering and strife. He is 93 and ready for the next adventure. Just waiting in the Order of the Present Moment with the rest of us, whether or not we realize we are in the OPM or not. This recovery period is so slow and gradual, that I'm learning an entirely new appreciation of suffering in the Order of the Present Moment. It is quite peaceful and ethereal, even.
Worn out but all wrote out, too! A blessing for the passage of time as is now time for the other medication, the every 12-hour one. God bless you, dear readers! We're all in this world, this life, together in the Body of Christ!
I went in that late morning with a pain siege headache, so the pre-op people put an iv in and pain meds to tone down the headache. They did not want me going into the operation with that much pain already.
I was unaware, but after surgery there was a problem. I would stop breathing with every breath or nearly so. I'm not sure as it didn't bother me! Other than at first when aware, I know I was quite surprised that I had not died this time. I cannot say it to most, but I had been hoping and rather excitedly looking forward to the Lord taking me with Him, this time around.
But no, there was nothing during surgery. No glorious encounter with God, no unforgettable thought-flashing with the Almighty. There was nothingness, and then off and on eyes open in recovery. I had no notion of time. I do recalls them telling me to keep my eyes open, to breathe. Then they got me up once--oh, I remember as was horrifically painful. No brace I realize now; just up as they tried to get me to not just exhale, but to take the next breath.
I remember some nurse telling me--must have been toward the end of the recovery in which I found out later was in ICU Recovery--that my daughter was terribly upset, shaken.
I remember at some point her being in there, also trying to get me to breathe, to keep my eyes open, to even talk if I could--for when one talks, there is breath. I remember wanting them to leave me alone so I could just drift off, as I was tremendously tired and pained.
Toward the end of that episode, they were putting some mask on me and hooked me up to a machine that forced air into the mouth and lungs, forcing the intake and then forcing the exhale, of oxygen. My daughter later told me that the surgery actually went well. She was told I'd be out of recovery in 90 minutes; they told her to go on up to my room--which she also said, had a marvelous view way up on top floor of hospital--gorgeous view.
But after a couple hours or so passed as she sat waiting in the room, she went to the floor desk and inquired. Oh, she'll be along any time now. So the daughter waited, and waited some more. Every so often she'd ask again and be told I'd be up any time. Finally, after about five or six hours, if I recall what she told me--was quite a time period--she was definitely alarmed and knew something had to be wrong.
She bypassed the floor station and went back down to the surgery floor and inquired. That is when she found out I was in Recovery ICU having problems breathing. I do recall one nurse or someone saying they thought I was dead, was white as white could be. None of it phased me, I can assure you. But they called the daughter back into the Recovery ICU where later she told me she never wants to have any surgery, for all the suffering and reality of people coming out of anesthesia; and I know my difficulty with breathing did not help, probably.
So after 7 1/2 hours in there, I was sent to the neurosurgery floor, but regrettably, I lost my room with the view. They put me in a room close to the nurses' station, hooked up to that awful machine, where the nurses could better monitor my breathing. The machine would make a terrible racket every time I did not breathe, which was often despite the air being forced in and then some other aspect that tried to force it out. Whatever, I lived through it, but got no rest the first night.
They figured it had to be something to do with the anesthetic. Actually, I was quite impressed, thinking that this was not so bad, after all; I was not feeling horrific pain. Perhaps my years of chronic pain were an advantage?
The surgeon increased one of the pain meds and did an instant release rather than extended release, once the anesthetic started to wear off, for then I was not feeling so pleased with being able to manage pain. It was quite rugged, in fact.
But the instant release did not go well with me. So I ended up with pain out of control and rather loopy. I forget which day but think that was the second day and night. So the nurse got the surgeon's PA to switch to the extended release of that pain med, and the next day the pain was kept under control until that night. Then I thought it a bright idea to just take half of one of the two strong pain meds, as I figured if that did not go well, I could then take the half I had not taken.
Not in this day and age of pain med extremism! The nurse felt so terrible; she informed me in less than an hour when I realized I did indeed need the full amount, that I could not have more until the next regular pain med time--a little over three hours hence. So she brought muscle relaxant, as I could take that. Did not make a dent, though. I did not sleep until way after the next pain med time for when pain is out of control, it takes all the longer to get it back into control.
Live and learn. For any of you facing surgery, keep in mind these details. Take all your pain meds when given or you will not have more until the next, set time. Don't trust yourself when a day or two or three post-op. In fact, for me, nearing the two-week mark, I just last night had the first night that I got it all together. I woke up with phone alarm and took the proper amount of pain meds, back to sleep, woke again with alarm, next amount of pain meds, then awake. Pain not out of control and did not mix up which pain med to take, and did not doze back off forgetting I'd not taken the meds.
There is a lot more to this, but I also advise to not necessarily listen to hospital people calling before your surgery. The ones who called me to go over pre and post op matters at home, totally downplayed the situation. I can't blame them. They go by the usual practices, perhaps of regular stenosis spine surgeries. So I was told I'd not need a walker, would be able to get my own food, might not need a brace but if did would have it given in the hospital. Same with walker, when I questioned that--was told if I need one would get one in the hospital.
I'd mentioned Home Health Care if needed. Probably not needed, but if so, would be arranged by the hospital. Said I would not need to go to a rehab facility. Okay, fine. I thought that seemed good, actually. All that I was hearing seemed good. (There was no mention of an ice machine/pump being sent home in which someone would need to learn how to empty and refill with fresh ice two or so times a day.)
So the day comes that the surgeon thinks fine to go home. Due to the nights without sleep and the days then of wiping out being up once or twice with physical therapist and not having had all the occupational therapy needed, I said I really thought prudent if I stay that night and leave next morning. But not long after in comes a surgeon's staff person who was insistent that I was going home that day, no problem. When was my daughter coming to take me?
I said she had been working all morning so had not been able to get a hold of her. "Well, then, you'd better start calling around and find someone to come pick you up because you are going home today!" I tried to explain I had no one else, but there was no listening; the staff person had whisked off. Not longer after the daughter arrived and was upset, knowing I was not ready to go home. The son had called from afar, upset that I was going home. However, I grasped what was going on, and the issue was that they have a routine for spine surgery patients, and I am pretty sure that they have some or many who simply fear going home at the last minute, so like a baby bird, need to be shoved out of the nest.
While that was not me--there had been no night in the hospital that I'd slept other than the last, for two hours--and I'd not had much PT due to that and the first day very little due to the not-breathing problem in Recovery ICU; and I'd not had some necessary occupational therapy.
So when the discharge manager or someone told my daughter I needed the dressings changed the next day, and it was best done after I was showered, the daughter had to insist on Home Health Care to be set up, as I had not been taught nor worked with on shower transfer, nor had anyone to change the bandage. The daughter was concerned even getting me home. She had injured her elbow badly and said she'd not even be able to help lift me out of the car if need be.
But I realized we just had to go with the flow, and within I knew the Lord would take care of me. The daughter was getting the idea, too, that there were not considerations for exceptions. And, the surgeon's staff did not know me well enough to know that I'm not one to hang on to hospital any longer than necessary. But, regardless, the decision was made and nothing was going to deter it.
It was rough, and if not for the daughter insisting they get a Home Health Care intake nurse here the next day as well as a shower aide to handle that, and a physical and occupational therapist to teach me what I'd not had a chance to learn or to build stamina in the hospital--I'd not have fared well here. As it was, it has been quite the challenge. Fortunately, the pain is such that the days and nights fade into one another.
The people at the parish who volunteer to take meals to people in my predicament, have been bringing light fare and for two, as the parish nurse said that way I'd have for the next day. She wrote in the instructions to put items into baggies or little containers that could be brought back to bed with me using a walker. Oh, yes, I most definitely have a walker. It will be with me for quite some time.
And there is a brace, too, that I must have on securely any time I so much as stand up, which is not often. The pain is far more than I or I can conclude, my pain doctor ever anticipated. As well, though, to not anticipate such pain prior to surgery. The pain doctor and I figured on two types of meds and one of the twice and day and the other five times a day. The surgeon reminded me that this surgery is far more than the type of surgery we were basing the other on, and had me on the twice a day one--extended release, not the awful instant release--but on twice the dose of the other med, and that six times a day. Thus my pain meds are running out, but the past three days I have been tapering down the one medication by 1/4 and stretching the times to five times a day, most always.
Another unexpected occurred the evening before last. I had been up with the walker that morning with the PT, and we walked around the living/kitchen/bedroom with her timing it. I made it to a little over 7 minutes--a record thus far! But it obviously was too much, for within three hours a spinal headache took hold. Since I cannot take nsaids, the crushed Super Strength Excedrin was not an option. I suffered and suffered all that night.
(I've had these spinal headaches since the 1987 back-to-back surgeries, and regular pain med does not help; but oddly enough, about 15 years ago someone suggested I try a BC packet--ground aspirin with caffeine, and that helps ward it off if I take it early on.) By morning I was in excruciating head pain, although I'm pretty sure the lumbar pain was hanging in. The shower aide came and went; she could see there was no way I could get up to do that ordeal, as sitting on a shower chair was out of the question, and trying to even get to the bathroom was questionable.
The nurse arrives and had me call the neurosurgeon's exchange. A surgeon called back and said yes, take one Excedrin, two at most, just to get the spinal headache to temper itself. Indeed, it did help a little--enough for the nurse to change the dressings and to tell me the incision is looking good! She said it is 10" long and starting to heal at the top due to a small line of scab forming! Excellent news! No drainage; the drain in the hospital had done its work.
So it goes. The pain is too much to do any reading other than I still look on the laptop and read the daily Mass readings, even if they remain in the Order of the Present Moment. I've kept up some with news even though those events, including the terrible Mass shootings, tend to remain in the Order of the Present Moment.
The neighbor children, by the grace of God, come morning and night to empty the ice pump's water and put in fresh ice. The meals come M-W-F enough for an extra day each, plus have come a bag of ice to help fill in the ice pump's space. Otherwise they use water bottles that are frozen. (My daughter and son-in-law the first two days got all matters here figured out, and anything at all needed that the nurse said I'd need, purchased and here, set up, before they had to leave out-of-state. There were other people involved in the trip, who made expenditures; it would have been wrong to have cancelled on them, and again, I knew within that the Lord would provide. He knew I had no option. There was no way the staff person was going to diverge from the usual plan, and home I'd go.)
I do realize that probably psychologically, a person at home is more forced or motivated, to get up and walk around with the walker, or also, most of the patients have regular stenosis surgeries and not the added extensive surgery. I am not blaming anyone, other than if there is a next time, of which I hope in God not, I will arrange in advance and insist in advance that the old hermit needs to be in a rehab facility for the first week. If I don't need that post op, I can always cancel.
I forgot to mention at one time an Episcopalian female hospital chaplain stopped by. It was the afternoon the pain was out of control and I was loopy from the instant release med that I'll never take again. She wanted to talk about various things, of which I of course don't remember much other than she mentioned she noticed I was Catholic. She wanted to talk of religious matters, such as do I believe the soul is different than the spirit, or is the spirit the same as the soul? Mercy! Not again! Somehow non-Catholics often enough seem to have notions about what Catholics might believe or think. I do know I took it on, and prayed for the Holy Spirit to use the words necessary.
I recall recommending to her to read Teresa of Avila's books plus to read John of the Cross' Collected Works, plus added on Richard Knowles small but excellent volume of What Is Mysticism. These had been fresh on my mind in some conversation with someone other, perhaps the pain doctor, or what I thought I might recommend to him since he's shown he's concerned about Catholics' beliefs. Whatever, time passed, and I felt a tad guilty as I'd used that talking time to help distract from the out of control pain. I am grateful to the woman, and she did seem to want to discuss, obviously.
Regardless, all this, I did not bother telling others that I am a consecrated Catholic hermit and that is why I do not have a bevy of friends who were going to stop by off and on every day, or neighbors I knew well who'd handle the ice machine, or other family members free from new job and demanding jobs to drop all and come tend me, when I had been lead to believe by hospital personnel before surgery, that it was not going to require others to help.
It just goes to show that when we say we live alone, other people have a certain notion of what that means, and it is not an actuality of living alone, such as in the silence of solitude, in the prayer and praise of God, in the espousal of vows and professing the three Evangelical Counsels, as a consecrated Catholic hermit has done nearly two decades ago.
The Lord has provided! The woman from the parish also brought His Real Presence in the tangible mystical form of the Host. The daughter and family are back in the area and will be here in the morning to take this pained carcass, brace, wheelchair and whatever else, to the neurosurgery offices for me to be inspected by another PA whom I've not met yet.
I'm getting used to the surgeon's set-up, though. It is quite organized in a way that is not the usual, but it works for them. There is a person to handle ever aspect from beginning to end of patient first being referred to the final appointment presumably later on. I see the surgeon in a month. After that, I presume there might be a follow up later on, or at least a year check up since he told me--and quite honestly and realistically, as I'm finding out--that the recovery will be a year.
Since I survived surgery, I can deduce that the Lord indeed wants me to do the writing I'd thought probably the mission He wants of me, and to continue doing the suffering that is non-stop, that He asks of me and has for years of present moments. More than ever, now, I am learning to exist in the Order of the Present Moment in a peacefulness and contentment of pain in a type of timeless suffering.
All is well! God bless His Real Presence in us! Pray for me that I have the stamina to walker the body from curb to inside the main reception area, where I can have a wheelchair to take me and the walker and grandson and daughter to the neurosurgery office.
I've not had any super profound insights of the other side, since I remained on this side, this time. Yet I've noticed that the pain praying is going quite well; a good friend's spouse is in palliative care and not long for this world of suffering and strife. He is 93 and ready for the next adventure. Just waiting in the Order of the Present Moment with the rest of us, whether or not we realize we are in the OPM or not. This recovery period is so slow and gradual, that I'm learning an entirely new appreciation of suffering in the Order of the Present Moment. It is quite peaceful and ethereal, even.
Worn out but all wrote out, too! A blessing for the passage of time as is now time for the other medication, the every 12-hour one. God bless you, dear readers! We're all in this world, this life, together in the Body of Christ!
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