So, I hope I haven’t sounded like I’m whining as people have gathered around since my loving husband’s surgery. If I have sounded like that, I most heartily apologize!! Definitely not my intent, and definitely not my personality. Howsomever-I’m not going to pretend that this is a hoop-dance by any means! Thank god the surgery is done with (at least this one), but, good golly, Miss Molly! let’s just confront the results of modern medicine for one little minute. What kind of words of awe can be used in seeing what medicine can do to the body, in fixing it, and then observe how the human body can regenerate itself after being shredded, basically. (though there ain’t no basically about it).
Handsome Husband’s upper right thigh, where the docs did their thing (skin grafting, vein grafting) looks like a kind of food that I won’t mention here, though I will tell you Mickey D’s sells millions of those little patties that go on buns. He’s got a patchwork quilt going on there. Its strips, its crevices, its stitches. And then there’s his lower left arm, the recent habitat of that evil Wilson. Shredded, gaping, flapping-and that’s not the gross part. Its bad stuff, folks. Yes, we can deal with it all, and yes, it will heal. But holy, holy, holy-its a mess! And guess who gets to play nurse? Yep-yours truly! The thing I am sooo careful not to do, and sooo careful to announce to anyone standing within 10 yards of me myself-here I am with Handsome Husband depending on little ol’ me to do him up right. Bandaging at least twice a day. Something called xeroform has to go directly over the grafting sites-it has anti-bacterial gunk on it to keep it clean. He takes care of doing that, as it’s just better all the way round for me not to end up sense-less on the floor, and him having to kneel down and swipe some smelling salts under my nose. That just wouldn’t work for anyone. Then I start doing my artist’s rendition of applying gauze in various places, covering it all, taping it to hold it up, then wrapping more gauze around his leg to keep it all in place. This can take up to an hour.
Now let’s move to his arm. Its pretty much the same scenario, but a little easier because of the location. Repeat all of the above. Once again, ignore the smell-yes, it does smell, a result of the seepage and blood. Its normal seepage and blood, as the body heals, etc, but, well, it seeps and bleeds, and my stomach, and Handsome’s, churns and bubbles. Add another half hour or so maybe.
Handsome is healing well, he’s moving around, but it’s not without effort and some pain, especially when he gets in and out of cars, up and down from chairs, and at all times, his arm must be in an “up” position, with no pressure on the down side, formerly Wilson’s habitat.
I’m not going to pretend that any of this is easy. I also will freely acknowledge that there are many who have it so much worse in so many ways. And I will never whine about this. But I will also say that this is not pretty, it’s not easy, and I’m not a saint by any means. Its labor intensive, its emotionally difficult, its horrifying, and we’re just dealing with it and then we’re moving on. We both desperately want this to be done with, we want Handsome to be moving around freely, and I never want to have to deal with this again. It’s what we have, and we’ll get through it. And then we’ll be on the road again, and headed to the Southwest, hopefully, to spend some time there, rejuvenating ourselves and putting this behind us. With all the gratitude in the world for the end result of all of this, I am still so over this.