Let’s get this straight right up front. I am not complaining! Totally NOT! But, it’s been interesting! Kind of fascinating, really.
Mikelle had ACL reconstructive, MCL and patellar surgery on Tuesday. She is assigned to the downstairs recliner so that she doesn’t have to climb stairs. I’ve been staying with her to help with anything I can: getting her to the bathroom, dressing and feeding her, getting her to physical therapy, laundry, dishes, cleaning, shopping, helping with Easton. He needs pretty much constant distraction/entertainment/holding/loving. And that comes easy. I adore the little guy. We’ve discovered birds, airplanes, dragon flies, the moon! He climbs up the stairs. He plays “Get You!” He eats a ton, nurses, uses the sippy cup. So fun watching him grow and learn new things.
Mikelle wanted to take a shower today. Three days after surgery she was feeling a little sticky/stinky. The two previous days she just washed in the downstairs bathroom, changed unders, combed her hair. [Oh, wait — did I say she had to go get her hair washed and trimmed at Dollar Cuts on Wednesday — not even 24 hours after surgery — when we had to make a trip to the emergency room to check her oxygen levels? Um. Yah. “We’re right here, we should just get my hair washed because I can’t even comb through it!”]
Anyway, today was the shower. She has a full-leg compression sock on to fight off clots. And a full-leg brace. Negotiating the 15 stairs was not easy or fun for her. She needed to stop and rest, but she made it. She laid on their bed for a while to rest and nurse Easton. But, she wanted to get this shower thing going. I tried a folding chair from the downstairs closet to see if she could sit on it in the tub but we settled on the folding stool from beside the washer. After wrapping her leg in a slit kitchen garbage bag, secured with stretchy head bands, she crutched her way into the bathroom and eased over the side. Painful!!! [said in my high singy-song Oprah voice!]
Mikelle was able to wash her hair and other lady-parts, shave, and brush her teeth. Then, she rearranged all the shampoo the way she likes it. Ugh!!!! I keep saying, I WILL GET THAT! I CAN GET THAT! She conditioned and combed through her hair. She noticed the bobbie-pin container and had to straighten that up. Oh. What’s that on the rug? A piece of lint! Had to get that! Oh, look at the Scentsy. It needs cleaned out right this very minute while I’m right here. Um. Please, I’m saying, just go lay on the bed. You are going to fall and tear open the meniscus stitches.
Then I opened her closet to get clean unders. “Oh my gosh!!!!! Look at those capries on the very top shelf. They are crooked!!!! Please take them down and straighten them? Please? They are all crooked and they don’t look nice.” So, I take down the pile and straighten each of the 14 pair. All folded the same way. All stacked with the zipper on the right and the cuffs to the back. Perfect. Whew. Now we can get dressed!
Did I mention she’s got a Howie thing going on? [You know, Howie Mandel.]
Not only Howie. She also has a fear of suffocation. Yes. The compression stocking sets off a panic attack. Too tight. Too restrictive. Too much compression. Logically, she knows she needs to have it on. The Physical Therapist stressed the importance of compression, elevation, ice, rest, exercise. For two weeks she needs to concentrate on those five things only. Not lint, not crooked capris, not bobbie-pins, not shampoo.
I’m worried. I need to go home on Saturday. I need to work, clean my house, do the lawn, prepare my 4th Sunday lesson. I seriously don’t know how she will manage. Oh, OK. I know she will, but I want someone to be with her during the night. I am so afraid of clots!!!
A few minutes ago, Mikelle was ready to make the trip back down stairs but she had to have a look around. She made sure the bed was straightened. She checked the bathroom. She even glanced in the guest bedroom and softly said ugh to my temporary pile in the corner. She wanted to get the baby seat put away and checked if there was room in the closet. And then she carefully renegotiated the 15-step journey.
I don’t know where this Howie thing came from, but it is seriously turning into a debilitating situation. The perfect scenario, of course, would be for her to have a little less Howie and for the rest of us to have a little more.