People who have never taken pain medication think that they kill the pain. Not true. At best they dull it so that it's bearable. Even with IV morphine, I was still feeling it, so I didn't move.
The doctors were concerned that I had been taking blood thinners and that surgery is not supposed to proceed until five to seven days after the halting of blood thinners. This would put my earliest possible surgery date as Tuesday, March 16. Five days and five nights lying in the exact same position. I just didn't think I could do that. Already my butt was sweaty and itchy and sore.
For the remainder of Thursday and all day Friday, the cardiologist, surgical team, osteopaths, nephrologists, pharmacist, and others I know not who they were kept entering my room, asking me questions, trying to determine what to do with me.
From ER, I was taken to a shared room with a woman who was playing her TV when I arrived at 11:30 p.m. After an hour or so, I politely said, "Excuse me, ma'am, but could you please turn it down just a bit?" No response. A half hour after that, I said the same thing, just as sweetly. She shot back, "Are you white?" I asked her if that was a problem and added, "Ma'am, I asked you as politely and kindly as possible. It's just been a very hard day, and I'd like to get some sleep." To that she gave an even angrier reply, "Well, then turn off your light and go to sleep." I told her I'd broken my hip and I couldn't move to shut off the light or reach the call button. I shared a room with Miss Winston for the next four nights. Often her
TV was going all night long--often while she slept!
Back home, I would never have been given a shared room, and I told the nursing staff I needed a private room to do peritoneal dialysis. The environment is supposed to be squeaky clean with anyone in the room wearing a surgical mask during hook-up and capping off. I was told that was not possible.
The crew got permission to film in the x-ray room on Thursday and in my hospital room on Friday. They got some good shots of me wincing with pain, then bravely regrouping to smile. They also got me adamently saying that this incident shored up my resolve to continue to attempt to change the law for compensating donors, not just for my own sake but for all the tens of thousands who are dying for a kidney. This fracture shows how my time is running out, and I have to work even harder to see that a law that is preventing donations is changed.
Felix planned to wait around to see me through surgery, if it were to occur on Saturday or Sunday. Bill and Ken were returning Friday night to Toronto. I kept talking to Felix throughout Friday. It sure looked like the docs wanted to wait until Tuesday. In that case, Felix would leave and come back by Tuesday, as the crew did not want me to be alone in the hospital. I thought this was so sweet but that they should do what they needed to do, since I had a lot of experience facing things alone.
Robby was a sweetie too. He said that he would break the sabbath to be with me, if my surgery were going to be tomorrow, but that he'd have to know by sunset Friday. Otherwise, he wouldn't answer a phone call until Sunday.
At about 5:30 Friday evening, I was told I had a definite answer: Surgery would be Tuesday morning. I called Felix and Robby. Felix said Jay, the research assistant in Toronto, was working on getting a ticket for Aaron to come to New York. He said several times, "Are you sure I should go?" I insisted he not wait around until Tuesday, so he left with the rest of the crew to fly home. Robby began his seder meal.
The sun set, while a doctor I had never seen before talked with me. He said he was more concerned about me lying around for five days and the risk of blood clots than he was about operating with blood thinners in my system. He felt the surgery should be done as soon as possible. This one dissenting voice turned the whole bunch of doctors around. Surgery was rescheduled for the next morning, Saturday, the sabbath, the morning after the film crew returned to Toronto.
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