The Stoughton Hospital

Today Dick and I toured the Stoughton Hospital. I will enter there on Monday next for a hip replacement, the left hip. There are single rooms with a connected bath, a TV and internet. So between that and reading, I will be fine. Lots to do between physical therapy sessions. 


I've heard that the food is excellent. I will have to see that to believe it. Considering I have been in hospital in at least seven different countries, and never have they had decent meals. Oh well, there is always a first. 


Last April I was in St Mary's Hospital in Madison. But that was like staying in a five star hotel: a fancy big TV, internet, a spa like bath.  A little over the top and certainly not something that Medicare can readily afford. I spent three days there with pneumonia.They offered a low carb diet. That was the beginning of my eating meat again after 35 years. 


I'm not looking forward to next week, but I think a small hospital will be better than a big rambling one.

I talked to my physical therapist, the ever happy Brandon.  He gave me a better idea of what would happen and how things would occur. I would get the surgery and in one day I would be up on my feet. Then in a week I could go home. 


But I have decided that going home after a week would be a mistake. Dick would take care of me, but I would be impossible. I hate being dependent on him, have always hated it. So I would rather be able to go up the stairs before I go home. In any case I will stay in the nursing home as long as necessary, even if we have to pay for it ourselves.







But 

Starting the Journey to a new hip

I am back on track. Today I signed up for the month at the gym, getting ready to see my physical therapist, the cheerful Brandon, saw my chiropractor, the unflappable Breitbach. I made an appointment next Thursday to talk to an orthopedic surgeon, whose name is Rillings. 


This  trip to get a hip replacement has not started out well. I have heard over and over that this is a nothing operation, two weeks and you're back on your feet. No problem at all. 


Well, that's nonsense. It is two weeks before you can walk with a walker. A walker is not my style. Then if you're lucky the third week you can use a cane. But if you are really lucky, after six weeks you'll be back to normal. 


We live in a tri-level home. The bedroom and bath are way upstairs, so if I go there I can't use the kitchen. Why? I won't be allowed to go up and down stairs for four weeks. And I'm told I will need a hospital bed. Horrible idea. Anyway, on Thursday I will beat up the surgeon and see how much of this is true.