The Story of Amoeba and the White Wall

Dearest Friends and Loved Ones,

Here I lie, in the Sacred Heart Hopsital Bed, in Spokane, Washington, with my two dear pals the lion and the gorilla.  They are two stuffed animals that were given to me by friends while I was still in Whitefish.  They have not left my side yet; they have slept with me and kept me company throughout the stretch of time I have spent inside the Hospitals.  The gorilla has a giant heart held in between his hands, reminding me of the love so many people are giving me.  The lion represents the courage and strength I am attuning to.  This new room in Spokane is far, far different from what I am used to inside the luxurious North Valley Hospital in Whitefish, MT.

If North Valley is a Five Star Resort, then Sacred Heart is the Holiday Inn.  I was warned before coming that it would be a "white walled" hospital.  I had an idea what I was getting into, and the linoleum floor I pictured before arriving actually fit the description I imagined.  What I could not prepare for was the flurry of activity outside my room door.  It's like I am in a small annex, or better yet, a closet located directly in administration.  I keep my door closed and my headphones are equally as important as the oxygen tubes in my nose, for they drown out the sound of the phones ringing, the hustle and bustle of the office, and the undesirable noises that sneak in through the cracks in the door.  I am on the 4th floor and my view consists of another building next door and some random streets.  A far cry from the glorious Columbia Range that I often awoke early to witness the sunrise over the peaks, just by turning my head while laying in bed.

Its okay though, its not all doom and gloom here.  Its just a white walled compound where I am waiting in a queue for pelvic surgery.  Actually I guess the walls are a faint shade of violet (to be completely specific).  I am scheduled to go in sometime tomorrow afternoon for surgery, if they finish early on the six other pelvic surgeries scheduled.  In the event that I do not make the cut for tomorrow, they will perform surgery on Thursday morning.  None-the-less I must not eat or drink anything at all beginning tonight at 3am.  At first, they issued the MPO (this means no food or drink for you!) starting at 12am midnight.  I was able to lobby my case with the doctors and prove that if I was not going to start surgery until the afternoon, then why not give me a few extra hours to consume some water.  Especially in case I wake up parched, in the middle of the night (considering this has been the routine since I arrived inside Hospital care on last Thursday). There is something uncomfortable about feeling like a grain of sand blowing across the sahara in search of the cool oasis.

If you are offended by descriptive details of ailments, then skip this paragraph.  If you don't mind a little humor and honesty, read on :)  I am presently sipping on a packet of Emergen-C, the Acai Berry flavor, which color resembles a newly discovered disproportionate body part.  The other day as I was re-arranging certain body parts, I noticed an increased enlargement of my scrotum area.  I then pulled up my nightgown to reveal a massive purple blob, about the size of a racquet ball, and again the hue is as dark as grape juice.  I was horrified at this discovery and immediately thought something was beyond wrong.  The doctor just shrugged and said, "Well, that's to be expected."  Really?  Are you sure?  "Yep" was his answer as he nonchalantly walked off.

If there is any body part that currently describes my condition it is this; I feel like a big purple blog.  So just call me an amoeba.  The bright side of this hospital is I get to administer my pain intake with the almighty button.  So every 8 minutes there is a .2mg dosage of Diluadid available to me if I decide to press the button.  This is almost the same dosage I was receiving in Whitefish every 2 hours (.25mg), although to be fair I was also allowed oral medication at North Valley.  Now you might think I am just hitting the button as if I am a contestant on Jeopardy, but actually I did learn something from my previous doctor's resistance to allowing more pain medication, so I am using it only as needed regarding my condition.  I can tell you that the lack of Reiki, massage, and energy from friends and family who visited in Montana is deeply missed and my pain seems to be recurring with more frequency since my stuffed animal pals haven't quite mastered the art of healing touch.

I also miss the nurses and the special care I received at North Valley.  I could actually get my back rubbed if I asked for it there, the nurses were beyond accommodating and made me feel incredibly welcome.  Here in Sacred Heart I am just the guy in room 449 who likes to be treated gently and kindly.  The nurses here are nice and all, they take good care of me, its just that they are attending to a lot more patients and I am just another one in the queue.  I will be glad when I return to North Valley and I am already looking forward to the smiling faces, carpeted floors, stunning views, and detailed attention that embraces each and every patient there.

The plane ride over here was miserable in every sense of the word.  I was initially very excited about the prospect of flying privately, yet that excitement melted quickly as soon as we took off and the turbulence began.  The medication could do little to guard against the heat flashes I began to experience, as well as the worst jolting and bumping I have ever experienced on any flight.  Keep in mind I was lying down and the nausea set in like a snowstorm with each and every breath.  I broke out in a full body sweat and began to swear profusely.  I felt like a mummy wrapped in a tomb, only the tomb was in a sauna and there was an earthquake going on.  When they finally opened up my "wrapping" and allowed some air flow to cool my body, I gradually began to feel relief.  I denied any more medication as I was more concerned about the nausea than I was about my pain.  This pervaded even though they injected ant-nausea medicine intravenously prior to take off.  I finally felt alive when we landed and exited the plane.  The snowflakes were a touch of heaven as we moved from the plane to the ambulance.  The ground crew was appalled that I denied a blanket over my half naked chest during the few minutes it took to transfer from the plane to the ambulance.  Meanwhile I basked in my relief and comfort and requested we "wait a few minutes" before moving again so that my core could settle and my breath could return to its soothing nature.

I am not nervous nor scared about my surgery tomorrow.  Apparently they will be inserting a plate just below my navel by making a smiley face incision.  All of you lucky ladies out there will now have a big smiley face to greet you should you happen to, well, you know what I mean :)  Anyway they will insert a plate to secure my left side pelvis and drive a screw threw my back near my illiac crest to hold this in place.  The other screw will be drilled on my right side near my hip to secure the parts over there will mend together.  The whole process should take no more than an hour and I have been assured I will not recall any of the procedure.  I'll do my best to get my family to take photos of my condition prior to regaining full consciousness but while I am "awake".  Should be a laughable affair.  All for now, dear readers.  I feel as if this blog allows me to talk to each and every one of you while maintaining my strength and stamina.  I hope you are enjoying these updates as much as I am.

Lastly, I will be watching my beloved Barcelona futbol team take on Arsenal in Champions League play.  This is as important to me as the surgery itself.  In fact, I have even contemplated sabotaging the surgery if they call me in early by sneaking in some food so that I will still be able to watch the game.  Don't tell my parents this, or the doctors, they might get mad.  I have a feeling it'll all work out none-the-less.  Below is a video that encompasses the passion Barca sparks.  This is from a delightful win against our fiercest rivals, Real Madrid, earlier in the year.  It was the fifth time in a row Barcelona had beaten Madrid, and they did it in style, by a score of 5-0.  In Spanish, they call this "La Manita".  Here's to hoping my surgery and recovery is in a similar light of victory, so we can all "high five" each other performing "La Manita".  If you have about 10 mins, go ahead and view the passion.  Enjoy :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvBcF0Sml7Q

In light and love
Andy (and the gorilla, and the lion)