Well, I’ve had a bit of a setback in my recovery plans. When I came home last Saturday, I felt terrific and believed I was making terrific progress.
I had promised to chair a meeting of the Craft Fair Committee on Thursday evening so, feeling fit and full of beans, we set off for Deloraine, calling in on friends at Bengeo on the way and arriving at the Rotary President’s house for dinner before the meeting.
Marilyn decided to stay at the President’s house with his wife and Andrew and I travelled in his ute to the meeting at Rotary Pavilion. All is good so far.
About an hour into the meeting I felt a shocking pain and realised that my hip had uncoupled and I was in trouble. Of course, nobody knew what to do, except ring an ambulance. I knew that there was no way I could be moved without professional assistance and one of the members who is a nurse agreed. I think the ambulance might have been there within 15 minutes and they did what they could to control the pain until they could get me into the ambulance for the trip back into Launceston General Hospital. By this time Marilyn had arrived and she followed us in.
I don’t know what happened to the meeting but apparently as I was being wheeled out, I said, ‘Meeting’s adjourned.’
I was given a little puffer to suck on for pain relief and morphine, of course, but nothing seemed to take off the edge. At the LGH, they sent me for X-rays and called in an Orthopedic Surgeon who decided he would be able to manipulate it back in. Easy for him to say!
They used a sedative and an anaesthetic called ketamine. I had read of this drug in various crime novels. It’s also used in veterinary work and I think Dick Francis had it in one of his novels. It doesn’t knock you out but causes the most vivid hallucinations. Jamie tells me that it is used as a recreational drug in small doses. It was extraordinary; I have memories of flying, with rolling swathes of colour and some connection with the backyard of the first house we occupied in Gwynneville, and of the words Corrimal and Kelloggs. Makes no sense now but when I was experiencing it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. I lived through the 70s, of course, but had to wait until I was 68 to have a psychedelic experience.
I came home on the Friday morning, a little subdued and more aware of what might go wrong.
The surgeon rang me this morning, just back from his holidays and very surprised at what had happened. Apparently, the joint popped out at the back, while I was sitting. During the operation, they tried to pop the joint open in all directions but felt it was very stable, so there is no reasonable explanation for what happened to me. I’ll see him later in the week but, over the next few weeks, I’ll have to be diligent in my physio exercises and avoid low chairs.
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