Tiny Bear

Lots of unfathomable stuff goes on in the world every day. Most of it is way over my head. One of the strangest things in my life this past few months has been the effect of anesthesia from my hip surgery.

Vets often say, “I don’t like to do teeth cleaning on an older dog. Anesthesia is very hard on them. The longer they are under, the more dangerous it is.”Β Lily almost died in a teeth cleaning. I should’ve been warned…

One of the advantages of the type of hip surgery I had is that a person doesn’t have to be under as long as with the traditional type. Still, I went very deeply under. The effects are lingering. My physical therapist said that for an older person (and I qualify) it can take eight months for the effects of anesthesia to vanish completely.

Almost every day I find something that reminds me how out of my mind I was (and perhaps still am). Yesterday I got my little pack to take to the quilt show.. It’s a hydration pack, but the bladder has long vanished. I put my water bottle in the insulated part that would hold the hydration bladder and I put my stuff in the front.

As I was digging around in a front pocket I found two new tubes of hand cream and an organza bag with Tiny Bear inside. I bought Tiny Bear from a friend’s shop in La Veta on the way up to Colorado Springs for surgery. She was made by a Native American artist of alabaster and turquoise. These little animals are meant to protect their owner.

A couple of months ago, in between my coming home from surgery and my excursion yesterday, I threw this day pack into the washer. Tiny Bear and the hand creams have enjoyed Splash Mountain and a Tide Pod. I didn’t remember putting anything in the pockets.



18 thoughts on “Tiny Bear

  1. I think I may have accumulated enough anesthesia that I will NEVER emerge from it! I was given away stuff yesterday to a friend. Inside every pouch and pocket there was some item I either didn’t remember I ever owned or something I was sure I’d lost. It was not one of my more inspired hours.

      • I often wonder. I lose words. They come back, but it’s infuriating. But so do all the other people I know our age. So I have to assume this is more or less normal.

        I’ve had SO much surgery, I don’t remember all of it. Parts of mine have been replaced which I didn’t realize were missing – including one heart valve. I didn’t know they’d put a new one in. My friend, Cherrie, who sat with Garry during my heart surgery assured me that I was so completely stoned for so long, it’s no wonder I don’t remember anything. She said once they started the surgery, they kept coming out and asking for permission to do something more that wasn’t supposed to be required and she had to explain it to Garry who couldn’t hear them. At some point, they brought in a whole new shift of surgeons.

        I really don’t remember much until June. The surgery was at the end of March.

        They tell us the time spent in the hospital is seriously damaging to older people and the older we are, the MORE damaging. I don’t know how much of a brain I have left. I don’t think it’s dementia. I think it’s too many drugs over too many years. I suppose I should be glad I’m alive because, by the time they did the heart surgery, I was nearly dead.

        I thought I was fine.

        • I know your experiences were far more drastic than mine. I’m glad you got through it. πŸ™‚

          Mostly, I think my little discoveries are kind of funny. I know that part of the problem is that I was so frightened because I’d gone through it before and fear shuts down your brain. And while that first experience wasn’t bad (I don’t think) maybe it was and my body knew it even if I didn’t. Still, I managed to finish my novel this summer — now to find out how well I did that. Anyway, just got back from a fast walk with Dusty and Bear and it is worth having those strange lapses to be able to enjoy a walk with my dogs. This time last year I was in hell.

  2. Our Nera died under anaesthetic. It was not a strong dose, just put to sleep because she could get very aggressive when having her hair cut. Anaesthetic is my biggest worry in an operation, that is why I always chose to have a local anaesthetic. I was even “awake” when they repaired my broken leg.

    • I’d hoped to have the spinal thing that makes it possible to have less anesthesia, but the hospital didn’t have any. 😦 I think most of that stuff is out of my system by now…

  3. I sometimes wonder if forgetfulness is simply remembering too much, with too much on our mind from daily events, to hopes and dreams, finances, excursions we wish to make, dreams, all vying for a position in the light of our mind only to be removed or shoved aside as something else more predominately important must be attended to.?

    • I don’t know. I just know that there are huge blank areas about things that happened right before and for the first month or two after my surgery — like forgetting — more like not knowing — I even took this little back pack with me.

      My mom’s and her sisters’ dementia was more bizarre than forgetting things because their brains were full. My mom’s was the result of alcoholism, my aunt Martha’s caused, probably, by long term oxygen deprivation as a result of pneumonia she didn’t know she had, and my other aunt? I don’t know. The rest of the family stayed pretty sharp until they died of (in some cases) very old age.

  4. I love Tiny Bear — and she did a great job of protecting you! Had you also forgotten that you even had her, let alone wondered where she was? I’m glad she survived the washer, and was found to continue her job!

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