Nurse 2.0
I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about my shoulder. I’m tired of thinking about it. Mrs. Lion has been writing about dealing with a grumpy, potentially-toddler lion. That’s how it must look from the outside. I remember what it was like when I was recovering from kidney stone removal. I was in considerable pain caused by a stent placed between my kidney and bladder. I was taking strong, narcotic drugs.
I felt helpless and frightened. The drug made me feel lightheaded and fuzzy. I didn’t feel safe wandering around. I remember being very thirsty. I wanted some cold water. I had no real sense of time. I just wanted a drink. Mrs. Lion was downstairs on her computer. I realized that I couldn’t call her — I could but my fuzzy mind didn’t know how — and I wanted a drink.
I was impatient and grumpy when she came upstairs. I suppose that’s what she considered toddler behavior. I wanted something and I wanted it now. It wasn’t easy to deal with me. I was miserable.
Obviously, there is a big gap between the patient and care giver. I’m not a good patient. I’m used to fending for myself. I’m genetically built to be independent. Did I tell you that I hate narcotic drugs? I loved the way the pain just disappeared, but hated my loss of coordination and ability to think clearly.
As I’ve mentioned in prior posts, I’m not a bit submissive by nature. I can’t mentally convert the experience of medical helplessness into a submissive adventure. At least I don’t think I can. But what if I could?
First the realities: I will be in a lot of pain, so clear thinking about my behavior is difficult-to-impossible. That means I need clear, workable rules to simplify Mrs. Lion’s extra work caring for me. In the first two or three weeks, the best I can do is try to control letting my frustration with the pain transfer to my treatment of Mrs. Lion. If 2.0 is helping her, she can be a firm-and-loving nurse. She will need 2.0 to help her.
The key, I think, is direction. If Mrs. Lion just reacts to me, we can slip into the same toddler mess we had before. But if 2.0 provides direction and limits, I can probably follow them even in my drugged state.
The hardest thing about a 24/7 power exchange is exactly the same as it is when I am a patient: the feeling of frustration that follows feeling powerless. Add to that the fear I have of being unable to do even the simplest things and you have an unstable lion.
Mrs. Lion’s experience with her parents is a wonderful model of how things should be. Of course, they had many years living with their disabilities. They probably made all of their mistakes before my lioness was born. We have to start from scratch. It won’t be easy for her. I’m very worried about that.
I don’t mean to be cheesy, but I believe our FLR will provide us with a framework that will support both of us during this difficult time. I’m not sure I will have the surgery. If I do, 2.0 will trade in her paddle for a nurse’s uniform.
In Sickness and In Health
I’ve been thinking a lot about Lion’s surgery. I know he has too. One minute he wants the surgery. The next minute he doesn’t. He’s very worried that I won’t want to be with him afterwards. He did annoy me once when he was on narcotics. I knew it was the drug talking, but it still bothered me. Obviously I got over it. He is fairly demanding when he’s sick. Even when he just has a cold he wants me to be with him all the time. I won’t sugar coat it. It will be difficult after his surgery, but here’s the thing:
Two things, actually. I think I may have mentioned my parents before. They were both handicapped. My father was my mother’s legs and my mother was my father’s arms. They held each other up. I won’t say together they made a whole person because they each did very well on their own. My mother was often bed-ridden. My father did the laundry, cooked, cleaned, emptied bedpans, etc. He never once complained that he had to do it. He never once said he’d be better off with someone else. He never once said he couldn’t take it anymore. It was just what he did because my mother needed him to do it. Likewise, when he was sick or needed an extra hand, my mother was always right there. I’m sure she had no idea what part of the tractor she was holding for him so he could get a bolt loose. She just held it because he needed it held. It’s what you do when someone you know needs help.
The other thing that occurs to me is that I’m in charge. Sick or not, in pain or not, I can put a stop to Lion’s behavior by telling him he’s being a toddler. He’ll need my help so it would behoove him not to piss me off. Except, I don’t think he knows when he’s being a toddler. If he does, he may not be able to stop himself when he’s in pain or on drugs. I’ll need to be able to put my foot down. I’ll need 2.0 to be here. It won’t be from a punishment perspective. It will be from a self-preservation perspective. I’ll be helping Lion. 2.0 will be helping me.
We’re going to the doctor on Wednesday. At this point, we’re still in fact-finding mode. Lion needs to gather information from work and decide when surgery might fit in with his schedule. In the meantime, we’re looking into everything we need if he has the surgery. What will my schedule look like? Can I even leave him alone to go to work right after the surgery? What pillows/sleeping arrangements does he need? He’s been looking at the big picture and I follow up with the little details he hasn’t thought of. It’s no surprise we’re working together on this. It certainly affects both of us. I’m a little surprised Lion thinks I wouldn’t want to be with him in the face of adversity. It’s not like we didn’t make it through his long unemployment together. I’m a fairly tough broad. I can take it.
Hobson’s Choice
Mrs. Lion wrote about my MRI and visit with the Sports Medicine doctor. I have a torn rotator cuff in my shoulder. I got the injury last fall when I fell after eating dinner on a business trip. The pain isn’t constant. It varies by day and time of day. I have almost full use of my arm and shoulder. After physical therapy, almost all range of motion and strength is restored. At this point only narcotic pain meds are effective to fight the pain when it is bad.
After the MRI, it was clear that I have only two options: Live with the condition as it is, or get reattachment surgery. The surgery doesn’t require a hospital stay. But it does keep my arm in a sling for ten weeks. After that, a long course of physical therapy is needed to get me back to where I am now. After the surgery there is severe pain that requires narcotic pain relief.
I’m a space cadet when I take powerful pain meds. I think Mrs. Lion would have a hard time wanting to be with me if I had to take them for ten weeks. Worse, I can’t drive for at least that much time. I drive 25 miles each day to work. I can work from home some days, but I do have to show my face at least a few days a week. An Uber will cost about $50 each way. We can’t afford another $300 a week to get me to and from work.
Mrs. Lion has offered to transport me to and from work. She works 20 miles in the opposite direction. So, to take me to work she will have to drive 25 miles to my office, then 45 to hers. This is repeated at the end of the work day. I know she will do it, but I think it will wear her out and perhaps make me less attractive as her partner. Between the drugs, no help at home, and chauffeuring me to and from work, that’s just too much.
My other choice is to do nothing. I will have to live with the pain and take what little relief I get from Tylenol. I can’t take NCAID’s so that is my only non-narcotic choice. I don’t know whether the injury can tear further over time. I will ask my doctor about that this week. I made an appointment to get his views. Assuming the injury is unlikely to get worse, I have Hobson’s choice: I can get the difficult surgery or do nothing.
I know Mrs. Lion will support me if I decide to get the surgery. But her support could cause her to resent me and change our relationship forever. I will have to endure a long period of disability and pain. I like to sleep on my side. I won’t be able to do that after the. surgery. I should have a bed that elevates. We don’t have one and getting one is out of our budget.
It looks like the only choice I can make right now is to do nothing. Deep down inside I think this isn’t right. I worry that the tear could get worse until it is inoperable and the pain constant. I could lose the use of my arm. The decision to fix it our not isn’t mine alone. If I get surgery, it will affect Mrs. Lion too. I won’t do anything that could damage our relationship.
So there you have it; a real, live Hobson’s choice. It’s a life decision that transcends male chastity or domestic discipline. I debated whether or not to write this post. It doesn’t have anything to do with the blog’s topics. But it goes to the root of the very human subjects we write about: us. I have an appointment with our family doctor on Wednesday. I asked him to reserve enough time to discuss all the implications of this decision with me. I think I will invite Mrs. Lion to join me. This may be about my shoulder, but in reality it is about much more.
Six of One; Half Dozen of the Other
Lion’s MRI showed a moderate to severe tear in his shoulder. His options are to do nothing or to have surgery. He’s no longer a candidate for cortisone injections. He can either do nothing and remain in pain. Or he can do the surgery and have worse pain for a short time, but heal to no pain at all. He’s worried about time off from work and how his being an invalid will affect me.
I don’t know what I’d do in a similar situation. I’m used to being in general pain. When my knee was bad, I joked that I would welcome an amputation. Of course, I don’t know what I would have done if someone mentioned an operation. I’d have to weigh the pros and cons and see which side won. That’s what Lion is doing now. It seems like no operation is winning so far. I’m not in his shoulder. I can’t know how much pain he’s in. I can only assure him that I’ll help him no matter what he decides.
Lion assures me that his butt will be available for any punishments that come his way. I doubt it. If he gets the surgery, he will get the same suspension of the rules he got for his kidney stones. You can’t kick a man while he’s down. That’s also why I absolved him of forgetting the training collar when we went out last night. He’d just been to the doctor and everything was weighing heavily on his mind. He didn’t even think about the training collar. I decided, nice person that I am, to forgive his transgression. I still owe him swats from the other night. He was in a lot of pain last night so I pushed the punishment off again. He knows it’s coming. It’s just a matter of time.
The thing Lion is worried about most is that he won’t be able to do anything around the house for a few weeks after the surgery. He’ll also be on pain killers. I don’t mind doing everything around here. I do mind when the pain killers turn him into a whining mess. I know it’s the pain killers talking, but it still bothers me. The difference, I think, is the last time it bothered me was before his first kidney surgery when he refused to go to the emergency room. It may have been my annoyance at him not wanting to be admitted and thinking the pain was just going to continue with no answer of what was causing it. After the surgery, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
I don’t know how to equate that with this surgery. I know he’ll be in pain without it. But that pain comes and goes. Sort of like my pain, I guess. Again, what would I do if I could get rid of my near-constant pain by having an operation that would hurt more in the short run? I don’t have an answer for that. At this point, I don’t think Lion does either.
