All,
Before I get into the meat of things, I must attribute the subject line
to Martin Tuck, whose sense of humor is just as sharp as ever.
By all measures, the recovery process is coming along much better this
time around. I'm able to get up and stagger about on the crutches with
little if any assistance from Eileen. Last year it was nearly two weeks
before I was nearly this strong. I can attribute this turn-around to
one thing: blood.
It seems that I don't handle "nominal" blood loss as well as the general
populace. I was in surgery approx. 90 minutes longer this year than the
first time. Last year saw me somewhat woozy for about a week post-op,
but I was able to stand up and get around enough for the physical
therapy folks to decide I was good enough to go home (once I stopped
passing out in the hallway).
This time, I could barely sit up on the edge of the bed. I stood up
once and nearly fainted. It seemed obvious that I needed to get some
blood back (I had donated two units for this eventuality before the
surgery), but my lab results showed nothing that "qualified" under the
hospital's protocol for transfusions. By Thursday evening, my lack of
progress prompted my doctor to order two bags of "packed cells" (which
were mine anyway) to be transfused. He said he'd square things with the
"Transfusion Nazis".
Ten hours later, I was on my feet and, with the aid of crutches, walking
to the door of my room. Five hours after that, I was motoring down the
hallway. I came home the next morning. Nothing like a few million
extra red blood cells to get one up and about!
Thanks again for all of your good wishes. Now get back to building and
flying so I can live vicariously through your adventures (Except you,
Mr. Thursby. Give that hand some rest, young man.)
All the best,
Steve and Eileen Genotte
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