You never know how much you can miss a thumb, unless well, you can’t use one! When the useless thumb belongs to your dominant hand, you miss it even more!
Hand surgery on my thumb 13 days ago kept me from writing any new posts up until now.
First, it was in a splint and even when I took off the splint, the tenderness and bulky bandages that had to be changed every two days got in the way.
All of this to get rid of a synovial or ganglion cyst that had cropped up on my thumb about 8 months ago.
These cysts seem to like to pop up around wrists, thumbs and other fingers, and mine looked like a big dough lump sitting on my thumb.
I could have kept it as it was, except that it wasn’t very aesthetic looking. Plus there was a risk that if it burst, a bad infection could arrive in my joint.
I was convinced of what it was before I sought help, as it was translucent. Synovial fluid that is viscous, lubricates all the joints in our body, but when it becomes trapped into a little sac, it swells like a balloon.
The first hand surgeon I consulted didn’t impress me, because she didn’t think it was a synovial cyst, spent little time with me and ordered a MRI.
Maybe she did not like me offering a possible diagnosis. The young radiologist said it was a ganglion cyst at first glance even before doing the MRI which confirmed the diagnosis.
By that time, I had already made a decision to not go back to that doctor and seek another one to operate. The second surgeon, recommended by my generalist, was older and obviously more experienced as he knew too what it was at first glance.
Because he was personable and kind, had a good reputation, and head of hand surgery, a surgery date was set in September after August vacation, where Paris loses half of its population to the beaches and elsewhere and hospital staff is kept to the bare minimum.
Day surgery that would be done with local anesthetic sounded easy enough for me to tolerate. In around noon and out by 5.
After complying with pre-operative instructions to bath and shampoo my hair twice with betadine, I felt I was going to be recontaminated in part by taking the tram to the hospital.
Only the large size in blue surgical garb was left for me to dress in, leaving me to fold back the long pant legs to keep from tripping and grabbing them to keep them falling off.
Looking clown like in oversized surgical pants and gown, I was glad to climb on a gurney rather than risk stripteasing in my elephant size get up.
The pre-op nurse was as sweet and reassuring as one should be. The young female anesthesiologist was a delight as well.
Extroverted and easy to talk to, she obviously enjoyed her patients as much when they are conscious as out; a good sign I thought.
With the help of an ultrasound, she easily found my brachial nerve and skillfully infiltrated it without hardly any real discomfort, other than a few electrical like ‘shocks” as my arm became numb.
In about 20 minutes, my whole arm was totally dead weight and the anesthesiologist instructed me to grab hold of it to keep it from flailing off the side of the gurney.
I thought of all people who have paralyzed limbs that they have to live with and was again felt gratitude for my healthy arm temporarily out of commission.
I had already told them that I wanted to be fully alert and glad that no one tried to dose me with Versed.
After another whole arm bathing of betadine, they set up a surgical curtain which mildly disappointed me as I wouldn’t have minded having followed the show.
Dr. Ebelin seemed to be in a good mood as one hopes your surgeon would be. He liked asking me about New Orleans, jazz and the Cajun words still used from old French.
While cutting and snipping with his scalpel he started humming “What It Means To Miss New Orleans” and chided me for not knowing about Buddy Guy.
I have found the French to be much more knowledgeable about American jazz and blues artists than most Americans, certainly including me.
I am ashamed that I had to look up this well-known guitarist and noticed that he was a Louisiana native playing some dates in the south before coming back to Europe, including Paris in November.
I left with this gargantuan bandage on my hand, to return the next morning for the first dressing change.
While waiting in the little cubital to be seen, I thought the whole surgery had gone quite well until a grumpy lady marched in like nurse Ratchet.
I had observed her washing hands but was surprised and dismayed when she didn’t don sterile gloves.
When asked to hold part of the bandage with the finger of my other hand, I used the forefinger of my bandaged hand, explaining that my other hand wasn’t as clean.
She suddenly exploded into a full-blown hissy fit that totally took me back, as it was so unprofessional.
She proceeded to force my other finger in place which I again promptly removed, which didn’t help the situation.
In a huff, she angrily wrapped up my poor thumb too tight. Doctors and nurses have a reputation of being bad patients, but I held my tongue and chose not to retort.
I got the feeling she probably was a very bitter and even depressed woman, bored with her job and as I left even managed to mutter a thank you.
When I got to the tram, there were hordes of people waiting; a bad sign. Apparently, it had stopped due to an “incident voyager”, meaning an accident between the tram and a person.
The cool brisk morning air was inviting enough to walk rather than wait, and I was glad I didn’t have surgery on my legs or feet!
Once home, I tried to loosen my bandage myself and resigned to have to wait for Aimée to return to get rid of the anger filled gauze wrapping.
Keeping it dry and bandaged made even simple chores awkward and hard to do, from tying shoelaces, pulling on boots, typing, holding a pen, bathing, washing my fingers, and especially most of all, culinary chores.
That left me delegating almost all of the manual chores of cooking, which turns out to be quite a lot each night since all is “fait maison”.
I did not mine that much letting Aimée do most if not all of the prep for dinner, except of course I can do it much faster.
She gratefully did all of my every two days dressing changes as well, so I didn’t have to go the local infirmier (nurse) down the street.
Yesterday the stitches finally came off, but with instructions to still keep the incision site bandaged and dry till Saturday.
It is still rather tender and of course still stiff, but I am obviously back typing this post.
It did keep me from helping drive this past weekend for another getaway to the countryside in Champagne, that I will write about next week.
All in all, I am glad I went for the surgery and like my restored looking thumb, thanks to Dr. Ebelin and the French Secu(universal health care) that picked up the whole tab.
I ended up discovering Buddy Guy to boot, and think I will try to catch his show in November!
So glad your thumb is healing nicely. Hugs❤️
Thank you Carol! So far as I can tell, the thumb looks good with the stitches out and will be back in full use soon. Hope you are still celebrating your birthday! Hugs
I hope that your thumb heals quickly. One tends to not fully appreciate how disabling these types of things are until they experience them. Years ago I severely tore or snapped a muscle in the calf of my left leg and spent a couple of months on crutches; and recently it has begun to ache when I walk any long distances. Going to the gym almost everyday for the last half year seems to have only minimally eased the condition.
In spite of all of the advances in medical care, the computerization of hospital tests and medical tests and diagnostics, Patients just don’t seem to be getting the benefit from all of that; and it certainly hasn’t reduced the costs of medical care.. If anything, it is substantially driving up the costs of medical care.
My sister-in-law is an example of all of this. She was diagnosed as a diabetic many years ago; but never given insulin. Her medical condition is really her fault for not eating properly or exercising. She had 22 different prescriptions of medicine in her cupboard. Apparently she thought that the prescription medicines compensated for everything, alleviating her from the perceived necessity of doing anything.
A month ago she went into the hospital for three days. They gave her more meds and released her. (She goes to the ER when things become unbearable; and she doesn’t bother to see her primary doctor as problems arise). Then a week later she went back to the ER suffering from extreme abdominal pains. Of course they ran all sorts of extensive tests (EKG, CT scan, etc., etc.) on her; but weren’t able to come to a diagnosis. So they readmitted her to the hospital. During the next ten days they once again ran all sorts of extensive tests on her; and the four different specialist proposed different diagnosis, all of which were later dismissed. For 48 hours they were trying to schedule her for an abdominal MRI . . . then they realized that due to the implanted pacemaker, she could not have an MRI.
It was finally agreed upon that she had a swollen pancreas and maybe swollen kidney . . . it took ten days in the hospital for this diagnosis. It turns out that her sugar glucose level that was initially taken in the ER was 581; “normal” is 100 or less. They kept trying to discharge her during the last three days in the hospital in spite of her still suffering from severe abdominal pains. She was still in ocassional pain when they discharged her.
The bottom line is that in spite of all of the advanced diagnostic equipment and tests, it appeared to be something akin to the Keystone Cops medical routine. I am quite confident that the hospital bill be somewhere between $250K to $500K. Of course most of that will be paid for by her Medicare plan (the taxpayers or part of our national debt). Fifteen years ago she was in the hospital for a full month for an infection; and the hospital bill was literally right at a million dollars. Based upon her experiences and the experiences of others that I know, it seems that the “advances in medical equipment and advanced tests” seems to be being used to inflate the hospital bills MORE than serving the best medical needs of the patients. four years ago I had a home accident and wound up with 21 stitches above my eye. They performed a CT scan, which I didn’t think was necessary. They hospital charged over $8,200 for the CT scan; the insurance company paid over $7,900 for the scan. Then the doctor’s charge and other services were additional money (I only had to pay the $80.00 copay charge.)
Can there be any wonder as to why the medical costs in the U.S. are so outrageously high and the quality of service seems to be so poor in general?
How do the medical costs in France compare to the costs in the U.S.?
Thank you David. Your recounts of American medicine portrays the over diagnostic efforts and overtreatment reality of greed driven profits that benefits medical corporations, physicians, private insurers and pharmaceuticals much more than patients.
Medical malpractice fears also drive the diagnostic costs skyward too. Yet, attempts to provide comprehensive universal medical coverage is met with tremendous suspicions of being “socialistic” and the oval office can’t wait to dismantle whatever efforts so far have been put in place.
Medical care costs and medications in France are a fraction of what the ordinary American pays for. Thanks to the excellent French Secu comprehensive medical coverage! I do not know of any Americans living here who would want to return to greed driven medical care back “home”.
Cherry , glad to hear that your thumb is healing. I can’t Imagine what it would be like to lose the use of a thumb. I think most people take our God given body parts for granted until we lose use of it .
After googling to understand more about ganglion cyst I was relieved in knowing that it is benign .
I have heard Buddy Guy’s and the Damm Right Blues Band ,he has played with the best! He’s real good,I hope you get to see his show in November. but I don’t listen to blues anymore because it always takes be back to A VERY unhappy time . I MUST only listen to upbeat HAPPY music. Music has that much influence on me.
Hugs to you
Thank you Isham for your comments that always are enriching with your special knowledge of horticulture and even Louisiana blues greats! Bubby Guy is said to be 78 years old and still going strong! Obviously, I am not at all informed in this area, although I do enjoy the music that has such a primitive natural sound from the soul as only musicians like Buddy Guy can interpret having suffered through the dominant racism of his era. Hugs!