So today was S-day. My surgery was scheduled for 9:30 am, so of course I had to be at the hospital by 6. If you have never ridden an uptown 4 train at 5:00 am on a Saturday morning, I highly recommend it for it's theater alone. My favorite was the rough-housing women being yelled at for waking up the homeless person. I did have one man tell me he had been on a knee-walker too as I was carrying it up the stairs at the 68th Street subway station.
Spent the first half of my pre-op preparation listening to a querulous woman complain that she needed her pain meds before surgery and say some rather racists things about the nursing staff. Her surgeon arrived as she was reaching her crescendo of obnoxiousness and told her that the hospital staff were there to help her, but if she didn't want that help it was her decision. She shut up. I did not applaud, but wanted to. I understand nerves (I had plenty of my own) but that is not an excuse for being rude and derogatory.
Eventually I was wheeled into my operating room and climbed onto the table. I remember the anesthesiologist giving me a sedative and then disjointed memories from the recovery room where I could hear people talking to me, but could not open my eyes as my brain seemed to flash random thoughts and my right toes were cold.
I eventually woke up to my left foot looking like this.
Spent the first half of my pre-op preparation listening to a querulous woman complain that she needed her pain meds before surgery and say some rather racists things about the nursing staff. Her surgeon arrived as she was reaching her crescendo of obnoxiousness and told her that the hospital staff were there to help her, but if she didn't want that help it was her decision. She shut up. I did not applaud, but wanted to. I understand nerves (I had plenty of my own) but that is not an excuse for being rude and derogatory.
Eventually I was wheeled into my operating room and climbed onto the table. I remember the anesthesiologist giving me a sedative and then disjointed memories from the recovery room where I could hear people talking to me, but could not open my eyes as my brain seemed to flash random thoughts and my right toes were cold.
I eventually woke up to my left foot looking like this.
My surgeon performed a minimally invasive procedure where he made three 2mm incisions through my skin, nicking my achilles and then forcing my foot into neutral. He said he could hear and feel things pop and pull, but even with the cuts couldn't get past neutral. They then designed an open plaster mold (see above) that holds my ankle in neutral and forced my foot to stay that way until the plaster dried.
Dr. E is hopeful that I can go into the aircast boot when I see him on March 14th and begin putting weight on my foot. He says the issue is not putting me in the boot too soon and risking me popping my achilles vs. leaving me immobile for too long and having the achilles tighten again.
On a side note: I like Dr. E, he seems to have a sense of humor, gets my dry sarcasm and is willing to laugh - not something Dr. H seemed capable of.
So by noon I was awake, with Betty called and on her way to get me enjoying a tuna sandwich and cookies, hoping to get the plastic taste of the breathing tube out of my throat. And a little after 1:00 pm Betty & Steve were driving me home and picking up my new batch of Lovenox.
I am now ensconced on the couch with a cat on my lap (who I do have to admit is less then impressed with the smell of plaster, iodine, etc coming from my foot, nor does he seem to be a fan of the pillows needed to elevate) looking forward to some home-made matzo ball soup and trying to stay awake until it's time to feed the cats and take my motrin and lovenox. I am not in any pain, so no Tylenol needed.
Hmm, what did I put on my Hulu queue?
