The short of it is the operation went successfully. The anaesthesia didn't really agree with him (not going to be graphic). Now he is on the road to recovery.
The long of it.
Mom and Dad got to Nazereth Hospital around 5:30ish in the morning yesterday to get through the admission phase. You have to love hospital admissions. You sign and initial so many papers it can only be rivaled by a mortgage. "Sign here, here, here, .... oh yeah, and here, here, initial there, sign here, and initial there, there, and there."
After that, they are off to the area where Dad has to be prepped, Mom gets to be bored, and others are around them just as prepped and bored. The anaesthesiologist came around to explain the local my Dad was going to receive. Yes, the man opted for a local instead of being knocked out. Then it was the wait game.
As per Mom, Dad went to his surgery on time at 6:30AM.
Then came the wait game again. Mom participated this time until a shade after 10:00AM.
She got to see Dad in the recovery area in all his post-op glory. He was groggy and ill and not all that lucid. There isn't much a person who is not under the influence of "E" ticket pain killers can do in a recovery room. No TV, no phones, no radios. It like a mini-Giligan's Island. I told her then was the time to convince him you needed a full wardrobe make-over and spa treatment. Subliminal messages can and do work. She regretfully missed her opportunity. So she opted to read the obligatory book she brought with her until the hospital decided it was time to get Dad to his next destination - the hospital room.
Here's where the information gets fuzzy. I thought Mom told me Dad had to be in the hospital for about a week. My fault for thinking. Dad is in this special "recovery" room for a week. Then he gets transferred to a regular hospital room for 10 to 14 days. Days!?!? Holy cats! There's a health insurance company that is allowing a stay longer than a week? Come to find out it's because my Dad has other health problems which puts him in a high risk category. Ergo, mandatory longer hospital stay.
Mom has never been alone for more than a week in her LIFE!
At least Dad can catch up on some reading. Or watch cable and convert his brain to a bowl of oatmeal from an overload of daytime TV.
In one of his more lucid moments, he told my Mom that when he was wheeled into the operating room, he heard the one of the team say Dad was to get a full knee replacement. Dad was still awake. Dad was not getting a full knee replacement. Dad got very verbal. They had to bring in the surgeon to assure my father that the operation is categorized as a knee replacement but he was not getting a full replacement. Glad to see there are big mouth doofus everywhere, even operating rooms.
The doc told my Dad that today would be his worst day. "You'll be in significant pain. It'll slowly ease throughout the week." Nice bedside manners, jackass. Nothing like telling somone "Oh, you'll be in ripping pain but don't worry, it'll get better as the days roll." No, he won't get better - he'll just be used to it.
The baby and I will probably visit tonight or tomorrow night. She has her get-well card all ready for her Pop-Pop.