Rumpy V: The Demise
Here lies Rumpy.
A CONSTANT companion, Rumpy was always there at the beginning and END of every problem. He saw me through my whole pregnancy, CRACKING me up when things got bad and uniting my husband and I at our DEEPEST level.
Rumpy returned to me 4 separate times. The first time, I fought him off with the help of Dr. Death. The second and third times he was anhilated by the ER. The fourth time he ruptured himself and my husband became my surgeon as well as my visiting nurse staff.
Rumpy now has been killed off by my hero, Dr. Gardezi.*
Friday, I was in the All City Surgical Center in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. I was called by a number like at the DMV, taken to a locker room to change into a gown and grippy socks, given a locker key and pushed into a chair to await the nurse and anesthesiologist. The surgery hadn't exactly been explained as fully as would have calmed my anxious nerves and the center was located in the middle of a ratty neighborhood, with gates on the windows and no parking lot. My husband was sitting bored in the waiting room, not allowed to come back with me, the nurses were all speaking Russian and I felt outrageously uncomfortable (and not only because I was sitting on a cysty tailbone). Two and a half hours later, I was awake from anesthesia and chatting happily with the student doctor, Jon, who had scrubbed in on this surgery as well as Oliver's birth, coincidentally. (I told him that he was lucky to see all sides of me.)
Yesterday I was visited by the Visiting Nurses of NYC. I was fortunate that she came to my home and gingerly changed my bloody dressing. I was unfortunate in that she mentioned that the healing process explained to me by Dr. Gardezi as being 2-4 weeks is likely going to be taking upwards of 2 months. Sitting apparently won't make me scream by, oh...October 7th. Too bad I work on my ass.
That's what she said.
Yizhou, the nurse, has been cleared by Aetna to visit me 7 times in 7 days. She's wonderful. Each day she calls me 20 minutes ahead of time so that I can take out the dressing, hop in the shower (hop is relative), and lay out ass up on the bed. Doug takes Oliver out of the room because we don't want to have to pay for therapy earlier than necessary. We use a wet to dry dressing and it doesn't hurt too badly. She wants my doctor to switch me over to an absorptive seaweed thing that will hurt even less, but we'll do that hopefully next week. I visit Dr. Gardezi to check it all out on Thursday.
Ma says the wound looks like an open zipper. Doug says it looks like they melon-balled my butt cheek. I'm working from home this week and Monday will hopefully be making it back into the office. We're looking forward to a day when I don't need inflated donuts to sit and watching people riding motorcycles doesn't send shivers up my spine.
On the flip side, Ma's here to help with Oliver this week and she could not be having more fun. Either of them. We feel like we're mooching off of her - she's picking him up from daycare, making us meals and helping me in pee in the toilet. (Well, THAT'S new since potty training, eh, Ma?). The other day, she even helped with my dressing and today watched Yizhou change it just in case. Read: nose right there in the bandage. The lady is fascinated. I think she believes she's on CSI in some fashion. She said she'd do anything just as soon as she got over that elevator urpy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oliver is in his glory - Mom is telling him stories, singing to him, playing horsey, tossing him in the air, feeding him and laughing with him. It's pretty spectacular to watch. Sunday, when I was feeling good (I've since taken a nosedive in the discomfort area), we went to the Prospect Park Zoo. Mom took pictures of Oliver enjoying the meercats and the two of them couldn't stop giggling!
We're so very grateful that Mom, who decided to come when requested on literally a moment's notice, is retired and adventurous!
Oh, I should probably go. I smell some carob cookies fresh from the oven. It may take me 10 minutes to go 3 steps, but it's worth it!
*Please, everyone, knock on wood three times.
A CONSTANT companion, Rumpy was always there at the beginning and END of every problem. He saw me through my whole pregnancy, CRACKING me up when things got bad and uniting my husband and I at our DEEPEST level.
Rumpy returned to me 4 separate times. The first time, I fought him off with the help of Dr. Death. The second and third times he was anhilated by the ER. The fourth time he ruptured himself and my husband became my surgeon as well as my visiting nurse staff.
Rumpy now has been killed off by my hero, Dr. Gardezi.*
Friday, I was in the All City Surgical Center in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. I was called by a number like at the DMV, taken to a locker room to change into a gown and grippy socks, given a locker key and pushed into a chair to await the nurse and anesthesiologist. The surgery hadn't exactly been explained as fully as would have calmed my anxious nerves and the center was located in the middle of a ratty neighborhood, with gates on the windows and no parking lot. My husband was sitting bored in the waiting room, not allowed to come back with me, the nurses were all speaking Russian and I felt outrageously uncomfortable (and not only because I was sitting on a cysty tailbone). Two and a half hours later, I was awake from anesthesia and chatting happily with the student doctor, Jon, who had scrubbed in on this surgery as well as Oliver's birth, coincidentally. (I told him that he was lucky to see all sides of me.)
Yesterday I was visited by the Visiting Nurses of NYC. I was fortunate that she came to my home and gingerly changed my bloody dressing. I was unfortunate in that she mentioned that the healing process explained to me by Dr. Gardezi as being 2-4 weeks is likely going to be taking upwards of 2 months. Sitting apparently won't make me scream by, oh...October 7th. Too bad I work on my ass.
That's what she said.
Yizhou, the nurse, has been cleared by Aetna to visit me 7 times in 7 days. She's wonderful. Each day she calls me 20 minutes ahead of time so that I can take out the dressing, hop in the shower (hop is relative), and lay out ass up on the bed. Doug takes Oliver out of the room because we don't want to have to pay for therapy earlier than necessary. We use a wet to dry dressing and it doesn't hurt too badly. She wants my doctor to switch me over to an absorptive seaweed thing that will hurt even less, but we'll do that hopefully next week. I visit Dr. Gardezi to check it all out on Thursday.
Ma says the wound looks like an open zipper. Doug says it looks like they melon-balled my butt cheek. I'm working from home this week and Monday will hopefully be making it back into the office. We're looking forward to a day when I don't need inflated donuts to sit and watching people riding motorcycles doesn't send shivers up my spine.
On the flip side, Ma's here to help with Oliver this week and she could not be having more fun. Either of them. We feel like we're mooching off of her - she's picking him up from daycare, making us meals and helping me in pee in the toilet. (Well, THAT'S new since potty training, eh, Ma?). The other day, she even helped with my dressing and today watched Yizhou change it just in case. Read: nose right there in the bandage. The lady is fascinated. I think she believes she's on CSI in some fashion. She said she'd do anything just as soon as she got over that elevator urpy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oliver is in his glory - Mom is telling him stories, singing to him, playing horsey, tossing him in the air, feeding him and laughing with him. It's pretty spectacular to watch. Sunday, when I was feeling good (I've since taken a nosedive in the discomfort area), we went to the Prospect Park Zoo. Mom took pictures of Oliver enjoying the meercats and the two of them couldn't stop giggling!
We're so very grateful that Mom, who decided to come when requested on literally a moment's notice, is retired and adventurous!
Oh, I should probably go. I smell some carob cookies fresh from the oven. It may take me 10 minutes to go 3 steps, but it's worth it!
*Please, everyone, knock on wood three times.
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