Finding Joy While Facing Pain

Little did I know when I fell down our wet back porch stairs at the end of September that I would break both my ulna and radius bones in my left wrist and still be in a cast two months later.

There was no joy in this experience but I was determined to look for some when I had to return to the hospital for follow-up surgery.

To give a little background, I need to say in the middle of November, on a day I hoped to finally get my cast off, I met with the handsome, young Austrian surgeon I wrote about in my previous hospital visit post. But when he cut off the soft cast with a scissors, the first thing he said was “Oh no.” Apparently the metal plate he used to hold the radius in place had bent out of shape and gave my forearm a deformed look. 

When I had visited the hospital for my weekly cast rewraps after my October 2nd surgery, I had told at least two nurses that my wrist didn’t look right. However, they reassured me that it would heal in time rather than summoning a surgeon to take a look. 

So after realizing that one of my metal plates has bent through examining X-rays, my surgeon scheduled follow up surgery for the end of November. I wasn’t looking forward to it, of course, but my wrist needed to be fixed. But this time I knew that I needed to prepay for the metal plates that they would use. Otherwise the surgery would not happen. 

I don’t know if you remember in my previous post I mentioned that medical insurance would cover everything but the plates to be put in my left forearm. So a few days before surgery, I went to the hospital’s billing department and prepaid for the materials the surgeon would need. I made sure to get a receipt marked paid to show anyone who asked and the billing department did ask for this proof before admitting me.

I had thought this material couldn’t be much but the final cost after two surgeries ended up being almost €5000! 

But on to the positive developments. While waiting to be seen by the Austrian hunk, the first ray of joy shined through. As I was trying to adjust my sling into the correct position, two women got up from their waiting room chairs independently to try and help me. Neither of them figured it out by the time I had to see the surgeon. But I was touched that they tried to help me. 

Then on the day of surgery, November 25, I was taken down to the surgical wing in the morning rather than at 7 pm like last time. This was a bonus as you cannot eat or drink anything before surgery and waiting all day without food or water is hard. 

Once there, I talked to a friendly Cuban anesthesiologist who asked me how much anesthesia I wanted. I said I didn’t want general anesthesia as you have no idea what is happening and you wake up hours later feeling groggy and nauseous. 

I said I would like light anesthesia, please. I felt like I was ordering a steak in a restaurant, “rare, please,” and in keeping with the restaurant theme, he replied, “So you want to feel like you had two margaritas then?” “Perfect,” I replied. Another helping of joy had arrived in the most unlikely of places.

During the surgery I was able to hear the two surgeons talking but couldn’t see anything as they put up a sheet to block my view of my arm. The anesthesiologist had fully blocked my arm from feeling any pain at all. This was fortunate, as I later discovered they had cut my skin from my wrist all the way to my elbow to have space to install a very long metal plate to my radius with screws. I could even hear them stapling my skin back together but couldn’t feel a thing. Thank you, Mr. Anesthesiologist!

By 4 pm I was back in my hospital room and ready to devour the merienda, an afternoon snack patients get since dinner doesn’t arrive until about 8 pm in many Spanish hospitals. This snack included a big cookie, pineapple juice and liquid yogurt. 

The next day, a lovely elderly woman I learned was called Begonia came by to see how I was doing and wondered if I had any complaints. She was a customer service representative who actually asked people how the hospital was doing in meeting their needs. I was impressed that such a person existed and that she could speak English, Swedish and Spanish. 

Begonia was so glad to hear I had no complaints as she had been with me in mid-November when my follow up wrist surgery had been originally scheduled but was canceled at the last minute since I hadn’t yet paid for the materials needed! On that occasion, there was no phone in my hospital room so they couldn’t call me in advance of surgery to get my credit card details as they had done before the first procedure. No one bothered to come to my room to ask for it and I tried to call the billing department ten times before the planned surgery but no one ever picked up. I was so angry and frustrated then and had shared with Begonia that I was “muy enojada.” So it was good to see her again when things were looking up.

On this occasion, Begonia told me she had experienced breast cancer and had both breasts removed so she knew about pain and suffering. Maybe this is one reason why she was so good at her job. 

So despite more pain and suffering, joy was there too. One simply has to be open enough to other people to look for it. So I want to say thank you, kind Begonia. Thank you funny Cuban anesthesiologist who made me laugh before surgery. And thank you, fellow lady patients, who tried to get my sling to be properly fitted. You all helped make an upsetting experience so much easier and I am grateful for that.