Susan Abel Sullivan, author
  • Home
  • About Me
  • Novel: WEREDOG WHISPERER
  • Novel: HAUNTED HOUSEWIVES
  • Collection: CURSED
  • eBook: FRIED ZOMBIE DEE-LIGHT!
  • Blog
  • Events and Appearances
  • Short Stories/poems
  • Follow Me
  • Mystery dog?
  • Odyssey Writing Workshops
  • Contact

Flying high: why you should take pain meds when flying post-op even if you think they'll make you barf

12/5/2013

2 Comments

 
Seven years ago I flew out to Los Angeles from Alabama to become a partial cyborg.

Okay, maybe not a cyborg per se, but I did have one hip totally replaced with a titanium implant and the other one resurfaced with a--you guessed it--titanium implant, which may not make me a cyborg, but does make going through the metal detector at the airport a super fun and super slow experience.  Since I'm still pretty young, airport security personnel always eye me suspiciously when they have to scan me for metal.  It's a trade off: I get to walk, run, and dance again, but I have to suffer the perpetual delay in getting scanned, frisked, and patted down every single time I fly.

But I digress. 

I lost a ton of blood during the operation to the point where I went into A-Fib which is short for Atrial Fibulation.  Essentially my blood pressure bottomed out to zero and there was nothing left in the heart to pump.  The surgeon had already left, but a cardiologist was called in and got my heart started again.  Kinda like jump-starting a car that has stalled.

As a consequence of the blood loss, I was super nauseated and I couldn't keep anything in my stomach.  But the doctors and nurses thought it was the pain meds, so I didn't get any after surgery.  Fortunately, I didn't really feel much pain just lying around in the hospital bed.  They finally gave me pain meds on the third day post-op when I went into mild shock and started shaking uncontrollably and feeling pretty darn yucky overall.  Amazingly, the meds stopped the shaking and the yucky feeling and I was able to eat and keep down solid food.

So, fast forward now to the flight home cross country from Los Angeles to Atlanta.  I didn't want to take the risk of having to throw up on a plane.  I hate throwing up.  HATE it.  So on the off chance that the pain meds might make me throw up while several thousand feet in the air, I didn't take any.  The hubs had been super thoughtful and booked us front row seats on a plane that was too small for first class.  The idea was that I'd be close the restroom and would have more leg room. 

Which was great until I started to feel yucky and shake uncontrollably during the final descent.  And since there weren't any seats in front of us, the flight attendant had made me stow my purse in the overhead bin.  I could hold a fifty pound Stephen King book in my lap the ENTIRE flight, but I couldn't have my little purse containing my MEDS in my lap.  Go figure. 

And right before the shock set in, we hit some turbulence and the captain put the fasten seat belt sign on.  I asked the flight attendant if I could get my purse to take some medication and she said no.  I gritted my teeth and hunkered down to get through the rest of the flight.  But as soon as we landed, everyone else jumped up in the aisle and the hubs couldn't get to my purse in the overhead bin.  Forget trying to appeal to people's empathy.  There was no frelling way people were going to wait a single moment longer than they had to. 

So more grinning and bearing ensued and I was counting the seconds before the plane cleared and I could get some #&^ %pain meds in my system.


So, the plane is FINALLY em
pty and I take my meds.  I'm feeling REALLY BAD now and it took about half an hour for them to kick in.  I hobble off the plane on my crutches, my hips swollen to the point where it looked like I had on a sideways bustle, and look for the wheelchair we had asked for back in Los Angeles.  

"Where's the wheelchair?" I ask a flight attendant.

"There's not one?" she says. "I called for three."

I cuss up a storm in my head.  Some lousy person took my wheelchair.  Who would do such a thing?

So they call for another one.  Now remember that only FOUR days before I'd had parts of my bones cut off and replaced with metal.  FOUR days.  I could use crutches, but not to hobble the ENTIRE  length of the Atlanta airport. 

So the hubs and I wait for a wheelchair.

And wait. And wait.

And wait some more.

When one finally arrives, one of the arm rests is dented in toward the seat and I just about have to jam my swollen hips into it to sit down.  Of course, this jamming is right on my incision sites and hurts like hell and I start crying.  The only thing I hate worse than crying in public is throwing up.

The flight attendant who wouldn't let me get my pain meds from the overhead bin said in this sing songy voice, "Oh look, she's crying."

If I hadn't just had major surgery, I would have leapt out of that wheelchair and kicked her sorry ass from there to Sunday.  Of course, if I hadn't just had major surgery, I wouldn't have needed pain meds nor a wheelchair.  But still...

So the moral of the story is: take your pain meds before you fly even if you think you'll throw up.  Or stash your meds in a fake book on your lap.










2 Comments

    Archives

    March 2019
    March 2018
    February 2018
    June 2016
    April 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012

    Author

    Speculative Fiction writer

    Categories

    All
    Airline Travel
    Alternate Universes
    Andrea Janes Interview
    Annnalee
    Bathroom Humor
    Blogging Vs Writing
    Brown Nosing
    Buy Books For Bo
    Casting Your Characters
    Cats
    Christmas
    Coffin Hop
    Crazy At Casa Sullivan
    Dark Shadows
    Dearth Of Older Characters
    Dinosaurs And Ships
    Doggy Style
    Dogs
    Dreams
    East Alabama Today Interview
    Fainting
    Family
    Favorite Books
    Favorite Movies
    Ferrets
    Fire Batons
    Freak Snow Storm
    Free Books
    Fruitcake Sanctuary
    Fun Wine
    Glamour By Andrea Janes
    Halloween
    Hawaii
    Hobbies
    Hula Hooping
    Interests
    Jonathon Frid; Dark Shadows; Barnabas Collins
    Lions
    Love At Second Sight
    Made-up Words
    Misadventures
    Monkeys
    Moxie
    New Year's Eve
    Off Color Topics
    Pet Skunks
    Procrastination
    Publication News
    Rats
    Rotting Corpses
    Secret Chickens
    Sick And Puny
    Snakes
    Stability Ball Chair
    Stalking Celebrities
    Steiff
    Stephen King
    Story Ideas
    Storytelling Through The Arts
    Super Heroes
    Thanksgiving
    The Best Dracula Movies
    The Business Of Writing
    The Hubs
    The Weredog Whisperer
    The Weredog Whisperer: Luna
    Thrift Store
    Turkey Hats
    TV Guest Appearance
    Vietnamese Pot-bellied Pig
    Were-sharks
    Writer Interviews
    Zombies

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.