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I didn't need to worry about having time to donate blood, because it turns out that I can't. My iron is too low even with a daily iron supplement. NO BLOOD FOR YOU.
The nurse, who was warm and funny and sympathetic, also looked doubtfully at my veins. It's a big needle, she said. She kept saying she wouldn't make the decision for me, but that she could only get one unit out of me because my iron would drop and I'd become anemic and then I'd be tired and run-down for surgery. And she was right, and that was that.
I emailed my surgeon and primary doctor when I got home and confessed my hemoglobin fail. The two of them chatted, then my primary got back to me: new iron supplements, three per day, and add vitamin C, B12, and a multi to my daily pharmaceutical cocktail. I have officially outgrown my weekly pill container.
I tried a pair of platform crutches at physical therapy yesterday. The best word to describe them is awkward. Cumbersome works too. "You're not getting a 10.0 for grace, here," my PT teased. But the muscles of my upper arms and shoulders are much stronger than the bones and ligaments in my hands and I crutched around more easily than I can with standard crutches. I was impressed.
This is not to say that crutching is easy. It's crazy hard work. I'm sure it gets easier with practice, but right now, I can't imagine crutching beyond my lobby.
Quick dental update: I'm healing! Yesterday, I woke up not thinking about my mouth for the first time since the teeth were pulled, and I'm starting to venture beyond soup for meals. I stopped by the dentist for a check-up and he says everything looks fine. I have two more dental appointments before hip surgery, but nothing more traumatic than Novocaine on the schedule.
Next week is my big pre-op appointments day, when I get to meet people like my anesthesiologist. We're bringing a tape recorder (remember those?) so we don't have to take notes, and I'm preparing a list of questions and concerns for everyone.
But first, the weekend.
The nurse, who was warm and funny and sympathetic, also looked doubtfully at my veins. It's a big needle, she said. She kept saying she wouldn't make the decision for me, but that she could only get one unit out of me because my iron would drop and I'd become anemic and then I'd be tired and run-down for surgery. And she was right, and that was that.
I emailed my surgeon and primary doctor when I got home and confessed my hemoglobin fail. The two of them chatted, then my primary got back to me: new iron supplements, three per day, and add vitamin C, B12, and a multi to my daily pharmaceutical cocktail. I have officially outgrown my weekly pill container.
I tried a pair of platform crutches at physical therapy yesterday. The best word to describe them is awkward. Cumbersome works too. "You're not getting a 10.0 for grace, here," my PT teased. But the muscles of my upper arms and shoulders are much stronger than the bones and ligaments in my hands and I crutched around more easily than I can with standard crutches. I was impressed.
This is not to say that crutching is easy. It's crazy hard work. I'm sure it gets easier with practice, but right now, I can't imagine crutching beyond my lobby.
Quick dental update: I'm healing! Yesterday, I woke up not thinking about my mouth for the first time since the teeth were pulled, and I'm starting to venture beyond soup for meals. I stopped by the dentist for a check-up and he says everything looks fine. I have two more dental appointments before hip surgery, but nothing more traumatic than Novocaine on the schedule.
Next week is my big pre-op appointments day, when I get to meet people like my anesthesiologist. We're bringing a tape recorder (remember those?) so we don't have to take notes, and I'm preparing a list of questions and concerns for everyone.
But first, the weekend.
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