Chapter Seven: Confinement, Part One

June 7, 1998
Houston, TX

We drove to Houston the previous evening and once again spent the night at my father's friend's home. Every time I see their kids, I'm amazed at how fast they're growing and I realize that Hoppy must think the same about me and my sister. Sunday was not a very busy day for us. We relaxed and enjoyed the company for most of it, and later in the afternoon, we piled in the van and headed for the medical center. Houston traffic, as usual, sucked. I half expected a Sunday afternoon to be relatively peaceful, but I was mistaken, and part of me regretted that I insisted on driving as it would be my last opportunity for several months. Being checked in to the hospital seemed to take forever as well. There were several stacks of papers that required my signature as well as my father's. I settled in to room 708 and met my temporary roommate, a younger boy who enjoyed video games just as much as I did. We went back and forth playing Test Drive on his Playstation for several hours until the nurse told me it was time to get ready for bed. She reminded me of what I would need to do before surgery the next morning and offered me a sleeping pill. I took it, knowing full well that I'd never be able to get a minute's rest without it. There were far too many concerns and hopes running through my mind.

Five o'clock came quickly, and all I wanted was more sleep. There was some consolation in the fact that I'd have all the time I wanted for sleep over the next few days, but it wasn't enough to shake the grogginess as I stepped in the shower and bathed with the special sponge they'd given me. I dried off and fumbled with the hospital gown, and, not being able to get it right after three tries, enlisted the help of my father. He and my sister arrived just a few minutes after I awoke. The gurney was parked right outside my room, and as I approached it, my nerves went from zero to "HOLY SHIT!" in a time span not measurable by anything on this planet. I sat back on the gurney and was wheeled up to the nurses' station to wait for the surgical staff to arrive. One of the OR nurses arrived with two pills and a very small amount of water. I didn't think I could swallow anything with the few drops in the cup, but I managed. My father and sister reassured me that they would be waiting for me after surgery, and I began to nap for a few minutes. The movement of the gurney woke me up again as they wheeled me to the preparation room. The OR nurse charged with starting my IV and making sure everything was in order happened to notice my purple ankle and began to panic.

Both of the surgeons were called in to see my horrific sunburn and there was brief chatter about postponing the surgery for a few days to let it heal. Fortunately, it was decided that this was the best time to operate as they schedule was full for the next few weeks. The nurse injected the happy juice in my IV line, and again I had to question why it was given that nickname. Apparently it did something though, as I was told later on that my jokes got worse as they wheeled me to the operating room. I didn't remember much of anything after the injection.

Late that afternoon, I woke up once again, trying to figure out what had happened, what time it was, and who I was. I couldn't feel much of anything, and my vision was a solid blur. I quickly fell asleep, waking yet again to the moving gurney taking me to the "Step Down Unit", very similar to Intensive Care. I realized that my leg was hanging in a sling, suspended from a cage of bars around the bed. My father and sister met me in Step Down, and I was introduced to the evening shift nurse, a sweet older woman from Australia named Noel. She reminded me of my grandmother in Tennessee in many ways. My father and sister sat nearby as I drifted in and out of sleep, talking to me each time I woke up and wondered where I was.

At the time, my mother and her husband worked together driving an 18-wheeler across the country. They were able to arrange their route to be in Houston on the day of my surgery, although they didn't make it to the hospital until around 7 that evening. As my mother entered the Step Down unit, Noel was quick to stop her with the ferocity of a bear protecting her newborn cubs. I told her that it was OK for them to enter, and we visited for a few brief minutes. I was still drifting back to sleep every few minutes, and my mother decided it would be best for them to return next time they were in Houston. She said good-bye and attempted to hug me through the maze of the traction bars and IV tubes, but it wasn't easy for either of us.

I realized at that point that I was not going to be very comfortable flat on my back and pushed the button to call for Noel. My request to raise the head of the bed or get a few extra pillows was denied, however, as the doctors didn't want my upper body to be moved more than absolutely necessary so that I wouldn't change the alignment of the soft bone mush that was now my right hip. Thankfully I had a morphine pump, but it didn't seem to help that first night. I felt hot and sweaty all night and kept hallucinating that I was outside. Phil, the usual overnight nurse, brought in a fan, but it didn't seem to do much. I slept through breakfast that morning, but my sleep didn't last much longer. It was time for my first attempt at hanging from the traction bars so that an x-ray could be taken. I was still very weak from the previous day's anaesthesia, so every nurse and orderly in that section of the hospital came in to help get the x-ray film underneath me. After several very painful attempts, the pictures were complete. Dr. Haynes and Maj. Ross, the two surgeons who performed my operation, came in shortly after with good news. The x-rays looked very promising. I asked them how much longer I'd have to stay in "the infernal contraption", as I'd taken to calling my traction rigging. That news wasn't so pleasing, as I was told it would be at least two weeks, possibly three, until I would be put in my cast. Until that time came, I was to work with a physical therapist to build up strength in my arms and my left leg so that I would be better prepared for the creation of the cast.

The next day, my father and sister returned home. I was a little uncomfortable being so far from home with nobody close by, but I knew I would manage one way or another. I continued to complain about not being able to raise my head enough to even see the TV, a problem which would later create an ever-lasting joke with Tanya, the x-ray technician. It also made eating very difficult, and for the first week I think I managed to eat all of two bowls of cereal, not counting what I managed to spill all over myself in the first few attempts...