Med Hold Update

Getting official news from Peace Corps HQ is … difficult. Like pulling teeth. With rusty pliers. While drunk. I’m all for serving with the PC, and I’m still looking forward to June 7th. I’m just saying, this is how things do (will) work. I’m trying valiantly to get used to it.

So in light of that - I’ve finally gotten a definitive answer regarding my medical standing. Up until this point there has still been the possibility of Medical deciding to postpone my staging date (due to the hand surgery). My unofficial word had been saying that wasn’t likely, but it was still a distinct possibility. According to the rumourmill* SOP for PC (woo, acronyms) has always been 6-12 months after surgery before clearance for staging — no matter what the surgery (exception: wisdom teeth extraction). So I’ve been worried.

Today I got a white envelope in the mail. Peace Corps logo for return address, big blue letters saying OFFICIAL BUSINESS. Inside:

In order to remove your HOLD status for continuance of placement and departure for service, you must submit letters of discharge and return to regular activity from both your surgeon and your physical therapist.

SWEET! I already have the required letter from the surgeon; I see the PT next Tuesday for my final session. So knowing how slow things go in DC, I should be fully cleared again by… um… May? Regardless, I am super relieved to finally have some type of answer. I’m guessing if my departure had been delayed/suspended, this is the letter that would have mentioned it.

*The aforementioned “rumourmill” is really the only method of information exchange among PC-hopefuls. As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a freaking huge air of secrecy over all of the official machinations. RPCVs and fellow applicants are essentially the only sources of information available to people in my (our) position. Mailing lists, emails and blog searches helped me a lot during my application, which is why I’m putting all this here now. If I’d gone into the process cold last October, without scrounging for advice each step of the way… I’d probably still be waiting on an invitation. No lie. So all you people who got here searching “Peace Corps Medical” (and holy crap, there’s a lot of you!): hang in there.

People are nice

I had text messages at 7am Friday — before I was even awake to shower before the surgery. Since then, I’ve had lots of people send warm fuzzies, happy thoughts, and healing prayers on my behalf. So… thanks, people. I appreciate it a lot.

In return, I offer this really sweet picture. Not Safe For Lunch; there’s even some blood in it — but I find it incredibly awesome, because even though I Hate Hospitals©, I find the magic of medical science very cool. When I joked around telling people “they cut my thumb off and pinned it back on” — I wasn’t exaggerating THAT much!
(I’ll be nice and not inline the image; click to view.)
The stylish turquoise bead is screwed onto the end of a pin which extends about 3″ through the joint. The nurse who changed my cast just looked at me weird when I asked if they came in other colors. Oh well.

I forgot what I was going to put here

Druggy amnesia is a weird thing. It’s about 8pm and I’ve finally started reentering the world of the living (although I’ve been “conscious” since about 1pm). But the whole day is very fractured and fuzzy in my head. I keep remembering random bits of the day but I’m not sure what was real and what was a dream — until about an hour ago I was still dreaming with my eyes open. Maybe I still am. I feel completely awake but if I close my eyes I lose 10 minutes.

I am very very very glad that it’s my left hand (and that I’m right handed), because that hand’s completely useless right now. I’ve discovered I’m pretty good at typing one-handed though. The first thing I remember from the recovery room is laughing and telling the nurse “I’m Hellboy!”… because the cast and bandage is very Hand of Doom-esque, and my visible fingertips were all orange from betadine. I think the nurse just thought I was still loopy though.

Anyhoo. My hand hurts. My cast is cool. Drugs are weird.

When I say “funny,” I mean “funny like evil zombie clowns of doom”

I hate hospitals. Hospitals smell funny. I hate anything that smells funny like a hospital smells funny, because it’ll remind of hospitals that smell funny WHICH I HATE.

Armed with this knowledge, last week I had to do this pre-check in-check in thing with my doctor. Apparently going in for surgery is kind of like getting on an airplane, because you have to check in first, go through security, and then check in all over again. (And airplanes smell funny too! CONNECTION? Oh wait, no.)

At this preflight check-in the nurse gave me a little bag of goodies, which included weird yellow shrinkwrapped blocks: apparently they don’t trust my hygiene, so I have to use their soap night-before and morning-of. 15 minutes of sterile yellow sudsy scrubbing. (Indecently, blame this post on inhaling too many soap bubbles).

SO. My point is this: I hate hospitals because they funny, but now I can’t sleep because I smell funny too.

Continued

Anyone tired yet of hearing about the Trials & Tribulations of A Peace Corps Hopeful©? I know I am!

Well, in any case, the story of the week is that I’m back on medical hold. I was dumb last week, and went to the doctor to patch up my thumb while I’m still on my parents’ insurance (same malfunction that required a cortisone shot last summer). Doctor decided I need surgery to fix jointy bits*, or else it will just continue to degenerate. And because my decisions now extend beyond the realm of “what would Sara do?” — PC decided I do too. So that’s scheduled for Feb 1st. Cross fingers and send prayers that all is hunky dory by June 7th.

In theory I have until June 6th to be declared medically sound and so on and so forth… so hopefully there won’t be any problems. The hold doesn’t mean I lose my place in Ghana, just that I have the chance to be bumped back if I don’t get the hold cleared by June. It’s just one more thing for me to go “what, seriously?!” about to the universal PTB. Lately I’ve been repeatedly frustrated with the onslaught of all the little things, even though in retrospect I realize this whole process has actually been really straightforward compared to the majority of applicants. A lot of my frustration stems from being really anxious to actually feel productive again - I’m tired of existing in a state of perpetual limbo.

*Bonus: Bionic thumb!