Staples and Tape

     I was discharged from the Hospital on April 28th,  five days after my surgery for Colon Cancer.  I would need several more weeks to heal, to regain my strength, and find some measure of my former stamina.  First however I had to endure a week of sleeping with staples in my stomach.  Stretching, reaching, bending -any action that might cause undue stress on my tender tummy would require an element of discretion.    After a week or so of broken sleep and cautious movements, I had my follow-up appointment with the surgeon.     On May 8th I finally got those damn staples removed.  My doctor was pleased with how my incision was healing.    Which meant I could shower, I could walk at my usual cadence and overall, start doing typical Terry things once more.  The real healing would begin.  Yet there was one more annoyance in the aftermath of all my surgery:  tape.  Another sticky situation to deal with.

     Tape used by Hospitals is meant to adhere to your skin no matter what.  When I was released from the Hospital I had a new dressing covering my stapled incision.   I couldn't have a shower yet,  but I could luxuriate in a bathtub.   That's when I discovered I still had tape on my back from the epidural.   Removing it wasn't too bad, hair grows back.  Usually.   The real mess was from the  gummy residue that  clumps up and sticks to skin and hair, resisting all my attempts to remove it.   Soap and water, alcohol, and finally soaking the affected areas in baby oil would be used.   Baby oil would be my go-to choice in future:  just let it sit and it gently and painlessly  washes off.  I'm such a wimp.

    My first walk the day after the staples were removed was a wonderful half-hour romp:  to visit a doctor of course.   I needed to check in with my family doctor to complain about a few issues,  and get prescription refilled.   That Friday morning on a fine sunny spring day, I walked the 30 minutes to his office, happy to simply have that option available to me.  Upon arrival I would go through the usual medical rituals: weight, blood pressure and general health questions with the nurse.  Once these preliminaries were complete, I was ushered into the room to await my family doctor.

   We exchanged pleasantries, discussed my surgery, he seemed impressed that I was doing so well roughly two weeks from my surgery.   The reason for my visit today was to have my Crestor prescription filled (no sense having a heart attack after surviving Cancer!) and to see about some nagging issues.  Seems that I was creaky in some of my joints, specifically my left knee (I had twisted it shoveling snow in February and neglected to have it looked at due to my other priority), and an inability to straighten the ring finger on my left hand.   Cursory examination suggested I might have a fractured my finger.   I could move the finger but not straighten it out,  and it was painful in some cases.  I would need an X-ray.   More walking to the clinic where I would receive my X-ray.  A walk to the drugstore to pick up my prescription.  A walk BACK to the clinic, to retrieve the prescription that I inadvertently left there when dropping off my X-ray forms.  Back to the drugstore.  Finally with my prescription filled I wandered home.  I had walked for the grand total of about an hour and a half, most of that 'at speed'. I was exhausted. 

     Over the next several weeks I would regain some stamina and walking would not be the draining activity it was on that Friday.   I was feeling good.  More importantly, I was happy and some of my confidence that I would   'be OK' was returning.   The next few days saw a steady increase in the walks -few long ones but their frequency increased.  Plus a lot more naps between walks.  Everything seemed to be progressing as it should and I was happy.   Then I received a phone call from the Hospital.  My family doctor wanted me to have a Bone Scan for my hand.   Friday May 16th , one week after having my hand X-rayed I would be getting a Bone Scan.  My adventures continue.