"Painkiller", she announced as she approached the IV pole on my left. Four seconds after the fluid started dripping I could feel the coolness of it as it entered my bloodstream.
I was being fed, hydrated, sedated, through this line. My pain had been minimal. I wondered what medicine they were giving me for pain and the answer was "Paracetamol".
Later when I could use my laptop I found out it was liquid acetaminophen... Tylenol.
When they asked I would rate my pain at "about a two or three" from a scale of ten. The Tylenol was working just fine.
My first night in the ICU after surgery I actually turned onto my right side comfortably. Pressing my head solidly against the bed I heard the whirring sound of an electric motor.
What the heck is that?
A day later I figured it out on my own... I was lying on an air mattress that automatically inflated and deflated different chambers to prevent bed sores. I was hearing the compressor whirring, doing its job, and doing it VERY well.
After two full days in the ICU I was moved upstairs to a private room. It had a regular hospital bed with IV pole alongside, and a mobile dinner platform from which I could eat regular solid food!
My room was on the sixth floor. The TV mounted to the far wall had about 15 channels, two of which were English, so we could understand what was being said. Local Greek TV carried LOTS of game shows like "Wheel of Fortune". It was fun to watch contestants get excited in Greek. Local news was interesting, but indecipherable. Later at night, a couple American action shows were broadcast in English... with Greek subtitles!
My adjacent bathroom had a toilet, sink, and shower, and against the wall had a desk and chair. Since I was forbidden to walk unassisted, this room went unused except for my sponge baths. Outside a sliding glass door from my bed was a great view of the Acropolis from about a half mile or so. At night those ruins were well lit... absolutely gorgeous!
Breakfast was toast with real butter, a boiled egg, juice, and tea or coffee. Simply being able to finally chew my food seemed wonderful. Lunch was normally soup, some sort of meat or chicken, more toast, and a couple slices of some sort of white cheese.
AND... a glass of wine. The first day Sara Jean watched me eat lunch, to my server she feigned regret that she too wasn't served wine. My attendant went immediately and got her a glass!
Every morning my foot felt better by a tiny fraction.
The third day a guy and gal came in and said, "We're from therapy. We teach you to use these..." and showed me the crutches that come halfway up your arms, ending around the elbow.
They assisted me in walking about ten feet, then turned me around. I wobbled.
Getting back into bed, I felt tired.
This is gonna be a long journey.