What the Surgeon Says

Hick had his 6-week appointment with the back surgeon on Thursday. The Veteran rode along with him, either for moral support, or a free lunch on the way home. Hick said he had to walk the length of our driveway (which is 1/8 of a mile) from the parking lot to the reception desk. Then that distance again to get to the x-ray part. I asked why he didn't have The Veteran drop him off at the door, and Hick said, "I drove." Seriously? He couldn't figure out a way to get out of the car and have The Veteran get behind the wheel to park???

Anyhoo... since Monday, I noticed an ooze coming out of a tiny segment of Hick's incision. When he was there unappointmented last week, the surgeon pushed and squeezed all along the incision, and said he got nothing out of it, but noticed a little gap near the bottom. A little opening about 1/4 inch vertical. He gave Hick some more of the betadine wipes for me to scrub with every morning after his shower. After looking at it and poking around on Thursday, the surgeon said it's nothing to worry about, but not to take a bath until it's closed up. And it wouldn't hurt to add some antibiotic ointment to it every day.

Hick can pretty much go about his business as usual, with the exception of not lifting more than 15 pounds. His bone grafts are growing together. The surgeon said that from what he saw on the x-rays, he would not do anything to Hick's hips. He said it looks like the bursa are inflamed. Hick had that problem a long time ago in a knee. They drained it with a long needle, and Hick says they took it out when he had his knee surgery a couple years later. That's a new one on me.

Anyhoo... the surgeon said that Hick should keep taking that anti-inflammatory medicine, which is not really a painkiller, but should help the bursa inflammation. He said he could give Hick another medicine to fight the inflammation, but it would also hamper the bone growth. So he'd rather go with a local medication that will only affect the hip. The surgeon (actually one of his colleagues) will give Hick a shot in his hip bursa in a week or two, to help with the pain. In the meantime, Hick can take up to 3000 milligrams of acetaminophen a day. That's only six pills. He said the liquid version works faster, but knowing how Hick doses himself with liquid meds, I think that's a bad idea.

Hick is still hobbling a little. He took his cane with him today. But once he got home, he left for town without it. Says his pain is around 2/10. He had one good night of sleep, only getting up three times through the night. The Veteran helped him program his breather so it isn't blasting so much oxygen into him while he sleeps. Supposedly that can wake a sleeper. We'll see how it goes.

Hick Treats His Feets

You may THINK you know Hick. But you really don't. He treated himself to a pedicure on Monday. That's right. Drove to town and paid $28 (plus a $7 tip) for a young woman to tend to his feet. Paid with his own money. I think that gal earned every cent!

In case you have been living under a rock for the past 10+ years, let the record show that Val ABHORS feet!!! Even so, I would (if not gladly) minister to Hick's podiatry needs during his time of incapacitation. In fact, I tried to clip his toenail when he asked me to, shortly after his back surgery. Hick can't bend, you know. And that grabber thingy they gave him does not have a toenail-clipper attachment.

Yes, I touched (!) Hick's stubby feet. Tried to find the toenail he said was cutting into his next toe. But there was nothing to clip. The toenail wasn't even to the end of the toe. No rough edges. The Pony tried as well. Same result. We could not find anything to snip off. Unless we amputated part of a toe!

Anyhoo... Hick says there are several places in Backroads that do manicures and pedicures.

"I went in, and the little gal set me on a vibrating chair, and took off my socks, and trimmed my toenails for me. She massaged my feet. Filed off the callouses. Rubbed lotion on them. She chattered to me the whole time, but I couldn't understand a word she said. Then she tried to look at my fingers, and I told her, 'I can cut my own fingernails! I just can't reach my feet.' For $35 a month, it's worth it to get your feet taken care of. I told my buddies."

Can't say I'm jealous. I'm pretty sure Hick just wanted his toenails cut. Though it seems kind of creepy for a man to go there. I hope all their customers are just there for the actual service provided.

Heh, heh. Hick was talking about it on the way home from the casino. The Pony was snickering in the back seat. It happened about the time I was questioning the demographic of the clientele. Like how many men compared to women customers. Not to be sexist, but I can imagine some pervs going there for the wrong reasons. We may or may not have asked if Hick had a happy ending...

What's Next, Hiding the Forks, and Plugging Plastic Thingies into the Electrical Outlets?

Some days, it's dang hard to keep Hick alive. He's his own worst enemy. And MINE, too! 

For several days, or more factually NIGHTS, Hick has been sleeping, or more factually NOT sleeping, in The Pony's old room. Trying out a different mattress to see if that might affect his hip pain after back surgery.

I moved a couple of bins out of the way, and washed the bedding. But I did not do a deep clean of The Pony's room. That's The Pony's job. We're still waiting... he moved out last May. He DID gather up most of his stuff. And threw away some boxes that his stuff had come in. A big bag of trash has been sitting there, waiting for The Pony to find time to come back and finish the job. It's not really a hardship. We keep the door closed, and don't need that room.

Anyhoo... even though the bag of boxes was at the foot of the bed, not in a path where anybody would walk, Hick determined that The Pony needed to move that bag of trash when he was here briefly on Tuesday.

"Pony. On your way out, take that bag of trash and put it in the dumpster as you go up the driveway."

"Wait. There's another storm coming in tonight. The dumpster just got dumped this morning. We laid it down. There's no need to put trash in it now, because it might get torn up by the dogs, like the last bag of trash. It's bad enough that neighbor guy made his boys bring the dumpster down the driveway! Apparently they also had to pick up loose trash. I saw it in the bottom of the dumpster when I took out our most recent bag of trash before the dumping."

"It ain't gonna hurt nothin'."

"It can wait a day! I will drive it up and set up the dumpster on my way to town tomorrow afternoon, after the storm has passed through. Pony! Just carry the bag out and put it in the garage. I'll load it up tomorrow."

"No. It can go on top of the Acadia, Pony. Just set it on the hood."

I was getting ready to go to town. We had just returned from a 90-minute drive to the casino. Pony left, and I went to get my scratchers. No big winners! 

When I got home and parked in the garage, a thought hit me. I went to the Acadia and felt the hood. HOT! With a bag of year-old cardboard boxes sitting on top! I moved them onto a bag of dog food. Then went in the house to question Hick on his sanity.

"Them boxes ain't gonna catch fire!"

"Are you psychic? Bundles of rags catch fire in garages."

"That's spontaneous combustion!"

"AND... Are you saying dry boxes left on a hot car hood can't spontaneously combust?"

"Well. There's a 99.9 percent chance they won't..."

Uh huh. 

A Hick-Up in the Continuing Saga

Hick went to his physical therapy appointment on Monday morning. He dressed all sporty in his ankle socks and Skechers and shorts. He was a bit apprehensive about what he might be required to do, since the PTherapist had told him to dress in something comfortable, because he would be hurting when he was done.

Anyhoo... Hick had spent a restless night hopping from Pony bed to recliner to Pony bed to recliner. It's quite annoying to me, since he interrupts my overnight routine, and then MOCKS me with untrue facts.

"I wish you'd just settle down in one area for more than an hour and a half. This is really annoying."

"I can't help it Val. I hurt."

"I never said you didn't hurt. Maybe you should wait until a normal time to go to bed, instead of 7:30 or 8:00. Then you'd be tired enough to sleep."

"I can't sleep! That's the problem."

Anyhoo... Hick had gone to bed at 9:00 after we watched YellowJackets. Then he was up before 10:30 while I was watching the news to see the weather. He sat in his recliner for a while with an afghan pulled over his face. Then went back to bed.

I went to the kitchen to compute for a while. Next thing I knew, there was Hick, rummaging through the cabinet for two acetaminophen. Then back to bed.

Ninety minutes later, Hick was back up. He went to his recliner and turned off the living room light. An hour later he went back to Pony bed.

By now it was after 3:00 a.m. The TV DISH had shut itself off. I went back to the living room and turned it on to watch TV. Here came Hick.

"I can't stand it. I can't sleep. I'm going to put some of that Hempvana on my hips. It helps a little bit."

So he joined me in the recliner for about 30 minutes. Then back to bed, with instructions to wake him by 7:15. Except he was up at 6:00 for the bathroom, and said he was going back to bed. 

At 7:00 Hick again popped out of the bedroom, saying he was going to sit and watch TV before a shower. Oh, and that when he got up at 6:00, he had absolutely NO PAIN at all. And now it was about a 2/10 in his most painful hip.

Hick had the nerve to say that twice when he got up, I was sitting on the couch asleep! When I wasn't even in the living room, but in the kitchen until after 3:00, and had spoken to him the last time our couch-paths crossed at 10:30. Hick was trying to say that I had plenty of sleep, even though I might have gotten 3 hours total, from 3:30 to 6:00, and 6:30 to 7:00. He's either hallucinating about my couch-ZZZZs, or a doggone liar!

Anyhoo... when Hick returned home around 1:30, he said that after his PT, he felt really good. The PTherapist had put some kind of cold pack on his hip, and hooked up an electrical stimulator. He said the pain was coming from Hick's lower back, and that cold would help more than heat.

Hick has 7 more appointments. He has a list of home exercises. He went to Walgreens and got a cold pack thingy that looks like blue bubble-wrap. It has a strap to hold it against his back. He learned at the auction (!) that he can also get some kind of electrical stimulator thingy over-the-counter at Walgreens. So he has hope that he can relieve the pain.

It's good to know that the pain is actually a result of his back surgery, and not just arthritis, though he has that as well. Anyhoo... I'm wondering if more muscle relaxers might help that back issue. Hick can discuss it with the surgeon on Thursday. Maybe that arthritis drug is starting to help.

Hick also said that he has never been able to sleep in his stomach, but the PTherapist had him lie on it, and his hip quit hurting. So maybe he'll try a different sleep position now.

It's 10:19 p.m., and I'm waiting for Hick to make an appearance...

One SIGHS Fits All

One of the hardships of dealing with Hick's recent surgical incapacitation is figuring out how much he really hurts. Don't get me wrong. I have no doubt Hick has been in excruciating pain. I'm sure. Pretty sure. Assume so. The surgeon DID slice vertically through Hick's lower back. It was a 6-hour surgery. That's gotta smart. However...

Hick emits heavy sighs all day, every day. Any time he's awake. I can hear him through the bedroom door at night, even with the TV on. I can hear him in his recliner when I'm sitting at the kitchen table. When I ask if he's okay, he says yeah, that his hip is just hurting. If I ask him to rate his pain, it may vary from 15/10, which was the week after his surgery, to 2/10, after sitting on a heating pad. Thing is, the sighs are the same. 

I never know if Hick is knock-knock-knocking at Death's Door, or doing a belly-flop at a pool party hosted by Slightly Uncomfortable.

He's been taking his new medicine every 12 hours as directed. It's Celecoxib, an anti-inflammatory arthritis drug. Hick says maybe his left hip hurts a little bit less, but the right one is still on fire. Of course, he's only been taking it since Thursday night. 

Sunday, Hick searched for info online about this drug. He reported that it works right away for some people, but may take up to two weeks for others to notice any effects. Of course, he also told me he read online that people with peanut allergies can safely eat peanut butter... So consider the source.

Hick has a physical therapy appointment Monday morning. Not sure how that's going to work out. When he filled out his paperwork Sunday evening, it kept asking him questions about his KNEE pain. Seems like the Old Biddy has struck again.

The Good Deed Punishment

No good deed goes unpunished. But sometimes, the punishment does not fall upon the good-deeder... 

Like when a driver decides to stop and let somebody pull out of a side street, or make an oncoming left turn in front of him. Only that driver knows his intentions. Putting on his brakes and coming to a dead stop in the middle of the road is not a circumstance that can be foreseen by the cars behind him. So they must all slam on their brakes to avoid rear-ending him and each other. By doing a good deed for ONE driver, the good-deeder has inconvenience many, and risked an accident.

Like when Child Val's beloved grandma would care for her on those rare days when Val could not attend school due to a fevered virus. Grandma would wrap me in a "quilt" made from enclosing an army blanket in felt material, and put me in her swivel chair that she'd moved in front of her fireplace. Then leave me watching TV as she went about her daily chores, having just gotten home from her night shift working at the state mental hospital. There I'd sit, the left side of my face bubbling and melting (or so it felt) until I was in need of a Phantom of the Opera half-mask. I didn't dare complain to my beloved grandma, who was only doing the good deed of caring for me while I was sick.

Saturday morning, Hick left for his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store) around 7:00. At 7:30, I heard my little Jack barking on the front porch. It was his STRANGER bark. With added growling. That little dog has to growl pretty loud for me to hear him through the front wall of the house, while winds are whipping around at 45 mph. I was almost tempted to get up off the short couch and open the front door to investigate. But the warmth of my fleece throw, and thought of the wind forcing open the front door, kept me put.

When Hick got home around 1:30, having curtailed his business at my behest, not needed to overextend himself during his time of hip pain... he said,

"Somebody brought our dumpster down the driveway and put it behind the Gator. I guess it blowed out in the road, so they brought it all the way back."

"That was nice. But how are we going to get it back to the end of the driveway??? I can't pull it up there. And you sure can't, with your hip hurting. We've left it there for at least six months!"

"I don't know. I guess I'll take it..."

"I can follow you in T-Hoe, and drive you back to the house. Or maybe The Pony can come out on his day off, and take it back."

Here's the thing. We are not very mobile at the moment! This is a hardship, even though somebody thought they were "helping" us. Help would have been to put the dumpster where we leave it, at the end of the driveway, and lay it down so the wind can't catch it.

Later in the evening, Hick had figured out who did it. I guess he put out a thank-you on the Facebook page of our enclave, and the good-deeder spoke typed up.

"Sonny said he stopped and had his boys pull the dumpster down the driveway."

"Did you thank him?"

"Yeah. But I wanted to say, 'Can you stop again, and have your boys put it back at the end of the driveway?'" 

The COINtinuity of Life

In the midst of sadness, there is a silvery lining. I have been mourning the loss of my Sweet, Sweet Juno since Sunday. In fact, at the moment I heard about her passing, I had just picked up my phone to take a picture of a penny! Good timing, I suppose. A penny from Doggie Heaven...

SUNDAY, March 26, I had just parked at the Backroads Casey's when I saw that penny waiting for me on the pavement.

I got the picture before I even slid out of the driver's seat. Good thing nobody was parked there!

It was a craggedly handsome heads-up 2020 penny.

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MONDAY, March 27, I was in the Sis-Town Casey's, paying for my gas and scratchers. My schedule was off, due to my fever that sprung up the previous Wednesday. As I turned to leave, I saw a welcome sight!

I set my scratchers on the unused counter by the closed register, to better have use of my hands to pic my dime. Not that it mattered...

Sorry if that face-down 2016 dime makes you feel like your eyes just got dilated at the ophthalmologist's office! 

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TUESDAY, March 28, I dashed into Country Mart to use their scratcher vending machines. It was a worthwhile trip! I won $40 on a $5 ticket. And when I came out, something was waiting that was not there when I went in.

Making sure no one was behind me to nab my newfound bounty, I put my scratchers on T-Hoe's console and came back for the picture.

It was a heads-up 2014 dime, whose photo turned out quite Ansel-Adams-like. Some days my phone camera likes me, some days it behaves like a recalcitrant child.

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FRIDAY, March 31, roared out like a lion. I went to town a few hours early to get back home before the 60 mph winds arrived with their possible tornadoes. The Gas Station Chicken Store had a treat waiting for me:

Back there in the corner. I couldn't leave it behind.

It was a heads-up 1996 penny, looking as grubby as its surroundings. I don't discriminate. Even a PigPen of a penny is welcome in my penny goblet.

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That's 4 COINS this week, for 22 CENTS towards Val's Future Pennyillionaire Fortune!

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2023 RUNNING TOTAL

Penny           # 37, 38.

Dime             # 7, 8.

Nickel           still at 1

Quarter        still at 0

2022 FINAL TOTALS

Penny           124
Dime              21
Nickel              7
Quarter             9

2021 FINAL TOTALS

Penny        124
Dime           14
Nickel           7
Quarter         6

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