But as the days continue to move towards my next surgery in late December, I am keenly aware that "old lefty" still has some serious challenges ahead. Most of my left hand has returned to sleep again, save only "lucky" (my middle finger) that faired pretty well all along. My wrist still has the notorious "bump", the result of the helter-skelter reattachment of the bone that had broken off of the ulna side. At times, especially when I bump up against something, it hurts and I know it's there. Although I am using my left hand and wrist as much I can, without the surgery I'm guessing it's not going to improve much more from its current state. Yet, even in all of this, I continue to count myself so blessed and fortunate.
I have spoken many times about the "miracle workers" at Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita. Dr. Chan and his staff, Kim Lockwood and his staff in physical therapy, and everyone else over there, have all worked together to make sure that I am as healthy as I am today. But there were other "miracle workers" that I met during this ordeal, and today, on this Thanksgiving Eve, I made it a point to look them up and thank them for what they did for me.
I don't remember exactly everything about what happened in the hour or so after I landed, smack dab, in the middle of the curb in front of my home. Some of it is just a blur to me now. But there were many things I do vividly recall. My son, Grahame, was just coming out of the house and found me in a crumpled heap. I scooped up "old lefty", limped over to my pick up and yelled at Grahame that I needed to get to the ER and NOW. I remember Grahame driving as fast as he could safely do so down 17th Street and me yelling and crying out in pain about every block or so.
It couldn't have taken us more than 5 minutes to get to the ER and by the time we made it there, I told Grahame to just drive through the garage area and start laying on the horn and surely someone would hear it and come to help. Sure enough, horn blaring all the way into the garage, it worked. By the time Grahame put the truck into "park", a nurse was heading our way, wheel chair in tow. Her name was Kristi Sourk and she will forever be at the top of the list of my all-time favorite people. When I went out to the hospital to meet with her this morning, I was disappointed to learn that she was not able to be there today. Seems as though the sickness that has made its rounds all over Hutch as of late, finally caught up to her. Even nurses get sick! We talked by phone though and made plans to meet on Monday of next week for the first time since August 4th. I told her that I was going to tell her story and so it does go......
I remember the first words out of my mouth to her~"I fell and it's broke!" and I definitely recall her comment back to me, "You know, I think you're right!" With that she whisked me away, straight back to a room and the whole recovery process ordeal began. I went through triage right there in the hospital garage in the first 2 minutes of my arrival. Within a half-hour, I was being readied for surgery.
One of the things that struck me about Kristi that morning was the overall presence of calm that she had about her. Here I was, half-crazed out of my mind in pain, and yet she stayed the course without becoming rattled herself. When the ER doctor arrived, in record time by the way, he asked me about the medicines I was allergic to...and funny how you remember sometimes exactly what you say to someone, but here was my response..."I'm allergic to penicillin, Sulfa, and Bactrim but I dang sure am not allergic to morphine and I want it right now!" (actually, I kind of cleaned up that comment...) No sooner had I said the word morphine, that Kristi squeezed my shoulder with syringe in hand and said, "That's what I'm giving you right now, Peggy. It's going to help very soon."
There were so many good nurses and CNAs that were in and out of that room in the first hour. As I've mentioned before, they didn't have to tell me how bad I was hurt because all I had to do was to look at their faces each time a new one entered my room. That "quick" astonished glance at my arm and then an even quicker glance away from it told me that it didn't look so pretty. But it was Kristi who stayed by my side the entire hour that I was in the ER.
I recall her asking me if I wanted them to save the clothing I was wearing or to just to cut it off of me. By that time a whole lot of moaning and groaning was going on (and it was me doing it, not the nurses by the way.. LOL) and I just said "cut it all off me".....That whole act, of having to remove a patient's clothing in such a manner, was done in such a reverent and respectful way. I thought of that later on with much appreciation... Regretfully I admit that my choices of words at that particular time would have made even a sailor blush. I had to have been the world's worst patient that she had ever seen, but Kristi still treated me with dignity, compassion and respect. Not sure a patient could ask for much more than that from their nurse.
A strange thing I recall is that she reached up and took the ear bud from my MP3 player out of my ear and said, with a smile on her face, that if she couldn't listen to music, then I couldn't either. I hadn't even realized it was still playing! I must have been out of my mind, realizing later that the song playing at that time was Creedence Clearwater Revival's~Fortunate Son and the "Peggy Miller way" of listening to music has only one setting for volume-VERY LOUD. I told her that I was wearing a special ankle bracelet and to try to save it for me...heck that was already taken care of by her 15 minutes earlier. When I didn't have the presence of mind to speak for myself, she just took charge for me.
One hour after arrival at the hospital, I was being readied for surgery and my ER stint was over. By that point I was already living quite happily in "morphine land" and things didn't seem so bad at all. But as they wheeled me out of there, I grabbed Kristi's hand (not with "old lefty" of course) and thanked her for what she did for me. And as I type these words friends, all of a sudden I am over come with emotion and the lump in my throat right now is a testament to the angelic kindness of an ER nurse who helped to save me. On this Thanksgiving Eve, my heart is full of gratitude for her and all of the nurses and health care professionals that work so diligently each and every day to save life AND limb! May God bless them all.....
I don't remember exactly everything about what happened in the hour or so after I landed, smack dab, in the middle of the curb in front of my home. Some of it is just a blur to me now. But there were many things I do vividly recall. My son, Grahame, was just coming out of the house and found me in a crumpled heap. I scooped up "old lefty", limped over to my pick up and yelled at Grahame that I needed to get to the ER and NOW. I remember Grahame driving as fast as he could safely do so down 17th Street and me yelling and crying out in pain about every block or so.
It couldn't have taken us more than 5 minutes to get to the ER and by the time we made it there, I told Grahame to just drive through the garage area and start laying on the horn and surely someone would hear it and come to help. Sure enough, horn blaring all the way into the garage, it worked. By the time Grahame put the truck into "park", a nurse was heading our way, wheel chair in tow. Her name was Kristi Sourk and she will forever be at the top of the list of my all-time favorite people. When I went out to the hospital to meet with her this morning, I was disappointed to learn that she was not able to be there today. Seems as though the sickness that has made its rounds all over Hutch as of late, finally caught up to her. Even nurses get sick! We talked by phone though and made plans to meet on Monday of next week for the first time since August 4th. I told her that I was going to tell her story and so it does go......
I remember the first words out of my mouth to her~"I fell and it's broke!" and I definitely recall her comment back to me, "You know, I think you're right!" With that she whisked me away, straight back to a room and the whole recovery process ordeal began. I went through triage right there in the hospital garage in the first 2 minutes of my arrival. Within a half-hour, I was being readied for surgery.
One of the things that struck me about Kristi that morning was the overall presence of calm that she had about her. Here I was, half-crazed out of my mind in pain, and yet she stayed the course without becoming rattled herself. When the ER doctor arrived, in record time by the way, he asked me about the medicines I was allergic to...and funny how you remember sometimes exactly what you say to someone, but here was my response..."I'm allergic to penicillin, Sulfa, and Bactrim but I dang sure am not allergic to morphine and I want it right now!" (actually, I kind of cleaned up that comment...) No sooner had I said the word morphine, that Kristi squeezed my shoulder with syringe in hand and said, "That's what I'm giving you right now, Peggy. It's going to help very soon."
There were so many good nurses and CNAs that were in and out of that room in the first hour. As I've mentioned before, they didn't have to tell me how bad I was hurt because all I had to do was to look at their faces each time a new one entered my room. That "quick" astonished glance at my arm and then an even quicker glance away from it told me that it didn't look so pretty. But it was Kristi who stayed by my side the entire hour that I was in the ER.
I recall her asking me if I wanted them to save the clothing I was wearing or to just to cut it off of me. By that time a whole lot of moaning and groaning was going on (and it was me doing it, not the nurses by the way.. LOL) and I just said "cut it all off me".....That whole act, of having to remove a patient's clothing in such a manner, was done in such a reverent and respectful way. I thought of that later on with much appreciation... Regretfully I admit that my choices of words at that particular time would have made even a sailor blush. I had to have been the world's worst patient that she had ever seen, but Kristi still treated me with dignity, compassion and respect. Not sure a patient could ask for much more than that from their nurse.
A strange thing I recall is that she reached up and took the ear bud from my MP3 player out of my ear and said, with a smile on her face, that if she couldn't listen to music, then I couldn't either. I hadn't even realized it was still playing! I must have been out of my mind, realizing later that the song playing at that time was Creedence Clearwater Revival's~Fortunate Son and the "Peggy Miller way" of listening to music has only one setting for volume-VERY LOUD. I told her that I was wearing a special ankle bracelet and to try to save it for me...heck that was already taken care of by her 15 minutes earlier. When I didn't have the presence of mind to speak for myself, she just took charge for me.
One hour after arrival at the hospital, I was being readied for surgery and my ER stint was over. By that point I was already living quite happily in "morphine land" and things didn't seem so bad at all. But as they wheeled me out of there, I grabbed Kristi's hand (not with "old lefty" of course) and thanked her for what she did for me. And as I type these words friends, all of a sudden I am over come with emotion and the lump in my throat right now is a testament to the angelic kindness of an ER nurse who helped to save me. On this Thanksgiving Eve, my heart is full of gratitude for her and all of the nurses and health care professionals that work so diligently each and every day to save life AND limb! May God bless them all.....
What is left of my favorite Smith's Market t-shirt that I was wearing that day and "old lefty's" biking glove. No way they were coming off of me without some very serious "scissor work".
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