My Room with a View

In the early afternoon, I was wheeled into room 1131, following hip replacement surgery; and since I was the first patient to arrive, I asked to be placed at the window. The orderlies complied and maneuvered my bed into place. I was extremely drowsy and fell back to sleep, vaguely aware of my husband’s concerned presence.

When I next awoke, I turned my eyes towards the large wall-to-wall window to my right. It appeared to be dusk, the city lights just coming on. There I beheld the sight of the Empire State Building, aglow in a soft gold color, a combination of its own illumination and the setting sun. In the distance, the distinctive array of illuminated spikes defined the Chrystler Building, and in the foreground the brilliant gold elongated dome of the Met Life Building. Room 1131 – bed No. 2.

I gazed around the room and noted that I had acquired a roommate; a black woman about my own age, who gave me a cheery greeting. Food trays came but I was not yet hungry; however my solicitous spouse had gone out to get himself some real food at a local diner on 17^th and 3rd. I lay back upon some generous pillows, and assessed my condition. What could I feel? An alternating caressing sensation about my lower legs, courtesy of leg pumps to help avoid the formation of blood clots. The machine that powered them hummed and swished softly, rhythmically. I could wiggle my toes, and knew that the anesthesia had substantially worn off. It was what I did not feel that was astonishing, no pain in my hip, nor side, nor back, my companions for the last year or so. I was totally pain free, which meant that the medications they administered were doing their job. A nurse came in and gently pinched my toes; “Can you feel that?” she asked. She smiled at my affirmative nod. The room was calm and quiet and the staff attentive and pleasant.

As the call of nature signaled, I rang for the nurse to use the bathroom.   She came in, removed the pumps which were attached by Velcro tabs, and rolled a walker up to the side of my bed, let down the side, and helped me to a sitting position. With her help, I slid my legs over the side and was soon standing on my own two feet. I was amazed! Just seven hours after surgery I was walking to the bathroom under my own steam with the nurse close behind me. She helped me into position, then closed the door for my privacy, instructing me to pull the call string when I was finished.

Back in the room, it was a major operation to get back into bed, much more difficult than getting out.  I had to scoot myself with my arms as far back onto the bed as I could manage, until the knee joint was fully engaged on the bed, then I was able to slide my operated leg up and over. Whew!   I was taught the trick of using a folded top sheet, coiled into a thick rope as a lasso to hoist my leg up. Of course, it took a number of tries to get that lasso engaged under my foot, which generated lots of laughter from my roommate. Until it was her turn….

Soon, the parade of nurses began. The first came in rolling a small cart to draw my blood. A short time later, another came in rolling a tall stand with equipment to take temperature and blood pressure; then another woman came in to tidy the room. Then the most senior nurse rolled in her portable computer-controlled pharmacy to dispense our medications. Each of these women had to negotiate their carts around our beds, hip chairs, bed stands, monitoring equipment, bedside tables, walkers, visitors chairs, and piles of cables coiled on the floor at the foot of each of our beds. And the curtains – color, hospital calm – which ran along tracks in the ceiling. My roommate Ora started laughing at the hijinks, and so did I. We became instant friends. We kept the curtains wide open so we could see and converse with each other, and she could also enjoy the view.

My husband left at about nine and so did her two lovely daughters. The floor became quiet, and I enjoyed a very peaceful first night.

For the next days the routines set in, with various nursing teams taking their shifts. Ora and I were visited by physical therapists several times a day as well as occupational therapists, resident physicians, social workers, nurse home-care coordinators, durable medical equipment salespeople, and our own surgeons. In three days they prepared us to return home fully able to ambulate, climb stairs, and with our trusty hip kits, to manage our personal needs. They were also sending us home with the leg pumps to be used for twenty-eight days.

I was taken for daily walks around the nurses’ station block, in hallways that were unbelievably cluttered with all manner of medical machines, delivery carts, and other pedestrians, ambulating first by using a walker, then progressing to forearm crutches There was an eight-step staircase that we used for practice, using one crutch and a handrail for support.  The requirement was that all patients have a therapist in tow while walking. This understandably limited the amount of time we could spend out and about the floor. I began to understand the new philosophy of getting patients home in three days time instead of nine. Much more and frequent mobility was possible at home, as well as the much reduced potential hospital-borne infections.

If the general daily activity had been busy, on the final morning it was positively manic. Our family members came to take us home; we had our final visits with physical therapists, our crutches, hip kits, and walkers were delivered and placed all over the crowded room. The nurses came in stages for vital signs, medicines, and blood draws as well as to issue us our final prescriptions to be filled at home.   Breakfasts were delivered, our surgeons came to sign us out, the occupational therapists came to show us how to dress, the aids with wheel chariots arrived to take us down to our cars. All packed into our little room. Then to top it all off, a short man with a very tall ladder came in and announced he was going to change the curtains. By this time Ora and I were convulsed in laughter. How did we get into this Marx Brothers movie!

Before I left, I took a lingering gaze out the window. On the morrow the Empire State Building would be all lit up in green for St. Patricks’ Day. I would have liked to see that, but I was eager to get home and take control of my life once again. If you ever have to go to the Hospital for Joint Diseases on 17^th and 2^nd, ask for room 1131, my room with a view. But be aware, there is a price to be paid for that view; the tab for my three- day stay was $127,559.