That Whole 'Sickness & Health" Thing

After my parents forked over the price of a sleek foreign-made sports car for my college education, I decided that I should have studied something else.  I spent 4 years in the education department:  cutting, gluing, coloring, reading, and making file folder games.  But, it wasn't long after graduation that I wished I had done something else.

Nursing school.

I should have gone to nursing school.

I have thought a couple of times through the years about dropping everything and joining up in the program.  Don my scrubs and get to work saving the world...or at least a person or two. But then I had babies.  And decided to homeschool.  And I live at the baseball field 9 months out of the year.  And.And.And.  And none of those things are conducive to nursing programs.

But this week I was granted the opportunity to stretch my nursing legs.  To see if I had the right stuff.

I don't.

Clearly.

I don't.

This week I have played nurse to the husband.  And I discovered very quickly that the scrub-life ain't for me.  A very very quick discovery, I might add.

It all started Tuesday morning.

Kirk went to the gym.  Like normal.  He worked out.  Like normal.  He was walking.  Like normal.  And he fell.  Like NOT normal.

Turns out Kirk's busted ACL (which he's known about for a year now, and had a surgery to take care of it on the books for March) decided to go ape-wild, and when Kirk hit the floor at the gym, his cartilage went ape-wild with it.  After trying to get it "popped" back into place and failing miserably, he called me and said, "Get me to my doctor.  Stat."

So off we went.  The ortho doc is about a 30 minute drive from us, so we loaded up the entire crew and headed that way, fully expecting the doctor to pop the knee back in place and send him home with a handful of pain pills and a pat on the back.

Ixnay on the going omehay.

Turns out the doctor couldn't get it popped back in either, and he scheduled Kirk for urgent surgery THAT DAY.  Whahuh?  That was not what I had planned for my day when I woke up that morning.

Long story short...we got the kids squared away, we had A VERY ROUTINE surgery done, and we went home.  With a fistful of pain pills and a pat on the back.

And so began my nursing career.

Just so happens that my first AND LAST patient can't just do things normally.

We spent Tuesday night and Wednesday day and night at home on the most powerful pain meds that a person can take by mouth. And it was the most excruciating day and nights that I have ever spent.  And I birthed 3 babies...without pain meds. 

Yes.  It was that bad.

After waking up Thursday morning and being in even more pain, we headed to the Physical Therapy center per dr's orders...because MOST ACL patients start therapy 2 days out.

The husband isn't normal.  Remember?

The therapists took about 3 looks at him and said, "This ain't right, Mister.  Get thyself to thy doctor."  (Although I think I'm just making up the redneck/King James voice in my head...but that's how I remember it.)

So after talking to the doctor's office, we very gingerly made our way back the 30 minute drive to his ortho.  Every move and bump and brake of the car caused him to grimace and use his not-pretty words.  I seriously had never seen anything like it....

Until...

He got in the doctor's office.  When the doc started tinkering around with the husband's knee, I thought all hell was going to break loose.  The doctor's face turned a strange shade of green and sheer panic stretched across his face.  And (in my memory) in his very best redneck/King James, he said, "This ain't right, Mister.  Get thyself to the hospital." 

So here we sit.  We're going on 24 hours in the hospital on some pretty hardcore pain meds. 

And here's what we know:  NOTHING.

Seriously.  Nothing.  The doctor just came in to see him, and, basically, they have no idea what caused Kirk to not respond to the pain medication.  They've run tests and done x rays, and everything about this very routine surgery checks out as very very normal. 

They just don't know.

And right now, we are just having to be okay with the not knowing part.

We do have a plan though.  Kirk is right now being taken off of his drip drugs with the magic button that he gets to push every 6 minutes, and they are moving him over to pain meds by mouth.  And then we wait.  If he can tolerate it through the night, then we go home.  If it goes crazy again, then we stay and rehook to the drip. 

It's hard to not know.
To watch this big ole' burly man cry real salty tears because the pain is so ridiculous.
To see him hurt.
It's hard to wait.
And watch.
And sleep on these horribly awful foldout pieces of plywood that they call "Family Beds." 

One thing I do know though....

No nursing school for me.  I've had enough.

Nope. 

I'm sticking with the flight attendant dream.

Peanuts, anyone?