Dane and the family went out on our first Halloween trick-or-treat at the St. Louis Zoo (Note to anyone who has not experienced this: It's about a million kids standing in long lines to get candy. Since Dane can't eat most of it, we decided to just walk around the zoo). Dane was our little monkey. He walked around most of the time, but when he started getting tired, we would get him in his wagon.


After the zoo, we went home for a nap and then met up with a good friend of ours Kristy. This was the first time she had a chance to meet Dane and she loved him. She took some family pictures (we never get any of all of us together) of us.

Tonight, our neighbor will take us (all the kids on the street) out on a little hay ride. It should be rainy, cold and FUN!

As long as I prop my arm up on the desk, I can use my right hand. Although my typing skills aren't much better with two hands, it does go a little faster. Today has been the best so far with regard to my shoulder. My range of motion continues to get better and better. Sometimes it's difficult to determine what actually hurts, the incisions or the joint.

After the first couple of days, I was doing fine. The vicodin prescription was 1-2 tablets every 4 hours as needed. Well, let me tell you, it was needed. Two tablets took care of the pain really well, and as long as I ate a little something with it, I didn't feel drunk (that happened a few times... although not unpleasant, I still didn't want to feel drugged). I tried to go down to one on Saturday night and that didn't even touch it. I started to get a little concerned about the amount that was prescribed to me. I had 60 pills, 2 every 4 hours would not get me to Wednesday (day 6) when I had my follow up appointment.

On Monday morning, I contacted the doctor's office and left messages for his assistant (the nurse that was very forth coming with information). At 3:00pm, I still had not received a return call. I contacted the office a couple of times, continuing to get the run around. I finally called and told them I wanted to speak to someone instead of leaving a message. A resident doctor got on the phone and asked me how she could help (at this point, I feel like anything I say will make me sound like a narcotics fiend). I informed her of my concern and requested some options since I did not have a refill. She asked me, "how many tablets are you taking a day?" I told her 2 every 4 hours, which was 12. She said, "Oh, well, you aren't supposed to take more than 8 a day." I told her that nowhere on the bottle did it inform me of that. I told her that I would have enough until Wednesday if I took them at that rate. I was still concerned, but thought that as long as I could take 2 at night, I would be okay. During the day, the ice pack would take care of the pain.

On Wednesday, I went into see the doctor. After waiting an hour, I was seen by another resident doctor. I told him about the pain medication and he said, "That's ridiculous. You take them as you need to. We will get you a refill." I told him I did not want to become dependent on them and he informed me that they were watching out for that. The doctor came in. At the time, I had a million questions for him. He took my arm out of the sling and start rotating it outwardly. It felt like he was tearing the meat right off of my shoulder (funny sidenote: While the doctor was causing this pain, I said, "It feels like your boning a chicken." He laughed and said, "Do you mind clarifying that for me?" I laugh, even in my pain it was hilarious. I said, "I meant tearing the meat off of a chicken bone." Everyone in the room laughed. He laughed again and said, "I'm glad you cleared that up for me."). Afterwards, he leaned back, sighed and said, "Okay. Have your wife do that a couple of times a day for you. Any questions?" Anything I had thought of before my appointment had completely escaped me, following the pain leaving my body. "No." Then he told me he would see me in 5 weeks. They took out the stitches, put on steri-strips, handed me another prescription for my vicodin and told me to make an appointment for the 5 week follow up.

So, of course, I have all of these questions to ask. I have put in calls to the nurse, with no response. However, my shoulder is doing better every day.

My surgery on October 13th went smoothly. It started at 7:30am, but I had to arrive at the surgery center at 6:00am. With nothing in my belly and a horrible caffeine headache, I got naked. The nurse tied me up in the back and had nice warm blankets for me get cozy. The anesthesiologist started an IV and talked me through what I would be experiencing. The most uncomfortable part would be the nerve block of my right arm. This process is interesting because the needle the is giving the injection also sends pulses of electricity. Based on how my arm jumps to each pulse tells them if they have the right nerve. The sedative took care of any pain of them digging around for the right area, however, the pulses were pretty strong and painful.

Once my arm was completely absent of feeling they wheeled me into the operating room. I was a little nervous about being put under. The anesthesiologist placed the mask over my face and said, "take four deep breaths." I took them and wondered to myself, "should I continue breathing deep or should I breath regularly"... Then I woke up in the recovery room.

I asked the nurse, "what time is it?" She told me 9:30am. I shaking from the anesthesia, so she gave me a shot of Demerol. I was feeling pretty good and if it was normal for me to be this alert. She responded, "Some people are, but you probably remember talking to me." (HA... I remember!) Asked if I could see my arm. I don't know what I expected to see, but I couldn't feel anything. Maybe I just wanted to see that it was there. It was already in the sling, no feeling what-so-ever. I could have had someone else's arm attached to me.

I had to go to the bathroom. I was wheeled to the bathroom and walked in myself. It was pretty odd that I was so unsteady. Not dizzy, but weak, like I was an old man. They put me in a chair (the recliner on wheels) and wheeled me back to my recovery room. Renee came in and greeted me with a kiss. She commented on how clear I seemed to be.

We waited for me to be discharged. The nurse discovered that my "pain pump 2000" (a catheter pumps a lidocaine-type fluid directly on the joint) had leaked. So they tried to refill it, but it leaked out again. They decided that I would be okay without it, so they pulled the catheter. They assured me I would be fine with the pain pills.

We left the hospital and headed to the pharmacy. I was doing great, but once we arrived there, the Demerol started to wear off. I was getting shaky. We left after the prescription was filled and went about 5 miles and I told Renee to pull over, I was getting sick. She crossed 3 lanes of traffic as I started to open the door to get out and puke. I quickly realized that I wasn't getting sick, but I was going to pass out. I stayed in the car, leaned the seat all the way back and put my feet on the dash board. Breathing quick and shallow, I started to clear. I told Renee, "just to get me home."

We made it home and I laid down on the recliner, took two Vicodin and lapsed into zombie land. I stayed on top of the pain pretty well. I watched movies, ate very little and continued to take my pain pills. After the second day, I was feeling much better, still sore, but better.

More tomorrow (or tonight). This is enough to read for now.

My boy is far away,
For too long of a stay.
I miss him very much,
When we are out of touch.

I'm not hungry enough to eat,
Or even give myself a treat.
I'll get to see him again tomorrow night,
But life without him just isn't right.

I thought I'd enjoy the time alone,
Until I heard him over the phone.
Just his laugh makes me miss him,
Begging to put him on so I can listen.

I hope he is missing me too,
And when he sees me he'll start to coo.
He'll laugh and giggle and give a "big hug,"
To me, his Dad, that's proud of his little bud.