Rick’s best friend Bill showed up not long after I arrived. He and Brad chatted for a bit, as the three of them had known each other since high school. Rick laid down in his room and when he awoke, Brad had gone home after buying and assembling a walker, which soon came in quite handy.
I was running on pure adrenaline- I even organized the pantry and swept while Rick and Bill discussed old friends and how time had been kinder to some than others. I made sure Rick was as comfortable as he could be, while dispensing his medications at the proper times; this isn’t so bad, I thought, as I rewarded myself with handfuls of fruit snacks.
As the evening wore on, Bill ran next door to a place called Pizza Vino and we had- you guessed it- pizza, for dinner. We ate. We laughed. And although Rick could only tolerate one slice due to side effects from the anesthesia, it was a surprisingly enjoyable gathering. After our meal, Bill left for home, and I felt a sense of pride that he entrusted me with his best buddy. I got this, I said to myself.
That night Rick went to bed around ten, and the grueling schedule of waking up every four hours to give him his pain meds began. I was up to the task, knowing full well he would do the same for me. What I wasn’t ready for, was the massive bruising and out of control swelling that is common with a surgery like spinal fusion. It should be common sense I suppose, but nobody told me what to expect and needless to say, I was not okay. I thought surely when Karen was showing me how to change his dressings that she might have mentioned “Rick has no swelling or bruising right now, but tomorrow he’s gonna look like he got beat within an inch of his life by a baseball bat,” or something to that effect. I urgently sent pictures to Brad and Dr. Henke who both confirmed that although disturbing, Rick’s back looked totally normal under the circumstances.
Yeah, thanks for the heads-up Karen…
Another concern was Rick’s heart rate. It is normal for him to have a pulse somewhere in the 50’s and sometimes in the 40’s. Dr Henke told us that if it dipped below 42 to let him know, as that could be a sign of a bigger problem- like heart failure.
The next night as Rick was about to doze off, he casually mentioned that while checking his blood pressure, his heart rate was at 41 beats/minute. Then he drifted into a peaceful slumber. Should I take him to the ER, I wondered frantically? It’s fine- he’s fine…but what if I’m wrong, and he’s not? I agonized over this for an hour, as I messaged Dr. Henke (who didn’t respond because he never saw the message until the following day), and I called my friend Aubrey for advice. “Did they give you an emergency number you can call?” she inquired. “I don’t know. Let me check.” I said as I fumbled through his paperwork in a panic-stricken state. “Here’s a number! Let me call them and I’ll call you back.” Then something told me to check Rick’s pressure one more time- this time his pulse was back in the 50’s. Thank God, I thought to myself, as I texted Aubrey the update.
The next morning, Dr. Henke responded (as if he were our personal on-call doctor), informing me that as long as Rick was doing well otherwise, his lower than usual heart rate is not a concern- good to know.
The following Monday, four days after surgery, Rick’s pain pills were running low, so I called for a refill. The lady who responded was the surgeon’s assistant, and she scolded Rick for burning through his percocet so quickly. “We were told to stay ahead of the pain and the bottle says 1-2 pills every four hours, what exactly did we do wrong?” he demanded. I had been giving him two every four fours. Needless to say, she conceded defeat and eventually refilled the prescription. A couple weeks later, Rick weaned himself off the pills entirely.
I stayed at Rick’s domain for about a month. Towards the end, we were not getting along very well. I had expectations that all of this would magically bring us closer together, and we’d be more content than ever. In actuality, we were both recovering from major surgeries and were not our normal selves in any capacity. On top of that, we went from seeing one another a few times a week, to living together.
One positive aspect of me staying at Rick’s is that I met his other two daughters when they came to visit their dad. I also met Rick’s sister-in-law and a nephew.
Now, I’m back home and beginning physical therapy on my wrist; along with resuming the life I knew pre- hand surgery. Rick is back to work after a six week hiatus (with restrictions).
To better understand and face the challenges that lie ahead, we are in couples therapy and are grateful for each other, this journey and the time/space to figure out this crazy roller coaster called life;)