The Story of Surgery | Part 2. Post-Op / Week 1

So, I made it through... safe and sound.

I won't deny I wasn't crying like a baby going into the hospital.. because I was. The anticipation was literally killing me. I pictured getting doughy.. hobbling around ...knocking things over in my path.. being a burden to everyone.. everything being so difficult..

But! In reality? The picture I had in my mind compared to the what I'm actually living now.. is drastically different.

The pre-operation period went incredibly smooth. No long waits. No rude nurses or hair-brained doctors. I was incredibly impressed. I passed along the assembly line of the hospital from running shoes to slippers, greeted and cared for by friendly face after friendly face along the way.

It was two hours before my parents and I split ways and I entered the symbolic "do not enter" misty windows doors to enter the operating room area. The experience was to be expected I suppose.  ...waiting in the stretcher up against the wall hearing the bustle of the medical team between operating rooms... simultaneously dreading and hoping that the doctor would approach shortly to take me through the final stages...then finally when he does he tells me that there was going to be a delay and proceeds to hands me a newspaper. Waiting. Waiting. Trying to enjoy the article on beard competitions meanwhile distracted by the unknown of the moments to come.. then the nurse comes.. checks me twice.. then the surgeon comes... autographs my knee for operation.. and then pulls down the stretcher bars and instructs me to follow him into the operating room. I walk behind him and enter THE ROOM. Then there you are... IN the operating room. The green walls. The big lights. The surgical masks and the cold.. sterile.. equipment. Instructed to take off my outer gown and feeling the cold brush of air against my backside as it was exposed to the room. Lying down and covered with a heated blanket, strangers hands sticking electrodes on my body... my neck.. my ribs. The anesthetist enters the room, introduces himself, and makes a dry joke. The sedation begins. Lying in silence watching the team prep themselves for their work to come. Waiting. Waiting for the feeling to come.. waiting... then starting to feel it.. "Wow" I said "It hits fast." "Yes" the anesthetist said. And then I woke up.

It all happened so fast. The next thing I remembered was waking up in recovery to a man vomiting uncontrollably across from me. It felt like the deepest sleep I'd had in ages.

The process post-operation in the hospital was pretty smooth. The nurses were incredibly kind and helpful and I had a big window to look out of. Morphine, that was a nice touch. The food? Not such a nice touch.

I had a roommate who cried uncontrollably for the first hour I was there. Claiming that she was bipolar and sometimes just cried... so she cried, a lot. The rest of the time she moaned in pain. Poor woman.

I dozed in and out pressing the morphine button anytime I approached consciousness.

In the middle of the night, however, the machine malfunctioned. Each time I pushed the button the machine would beep to say I received the injection but then default into error and beep non-stop. Each time I had to call the nurse, they'd come and unplug and plug it in... over and over. This went on for hours. I felt more pain, and more like a high maintenance patient needing ongoing assistance. At the end of the night, however, another nurse finally came and uncovered that problem - there was a clasp blocking my IV tube! Meaning.. I had not been receiving morphine ALL NIGHT! What a gyp.

Nonetheless, in the morning I felt pretty great. The physio came, I did all the exercises with ease. I could wiggle my toes and move my ankles. I could lift my leg even! I got to see the dressing change and was nicely surprised to see 4 little incision holes instead of a sight resemblant to a scene in a SAW movie.

I felt so good in fact that when we returned back to my parents home town we did errands around town.. for hours. I hobbled around on crutches and felt great.. for a while! We got my pain killers.. and I decided I wasn't going to take them until I needed them. I AM wolverine I thought. We continued around town.. until it started to hurt a bit more. I pushed it. It started to hurt more. Pushed it. Hurt more. Ok, it was time to go home and time for the meds.

Bad BAD idea not taking it easy that day and not taking my meds 4 hours after I should have. I was in excruciating pain until 2 in the morning. Lesson learned... (after I phoned Telehealth Ontario) when you miss a dose of pain killers... you have to play catchup when you need to startup again. The pain killers take a lot longer to kick in this way. Seems simple really. I felt stupid. I also was slightly disappointed that I wasn't wolverine.

Anyway, since! the recovery has been coming along great! I'm doing my exercises regularly.. resting lots... catching up on movies and books. I've been able to walk the last few days without crutches! I have pain only when I move certain ways. I've been going for short walks around the neighbourhood and they feel "slowly" great. My knee bends almost to 90 degrees with assistance. I still have to sleep with a splint every night for the first while (docs orders), so that part kind of sucks. I'm using a cryo cuff  (circulating ice knee cuff device) which really helps with the inflammation! I've seen physio and had a massage already (the massage was glorious).  I learned that if you lie on a heating pad under your hips, the liquid moves upwards away from the site and gives relief.

All in all, I'm feeling positive and driven while also feeling relaxed and sleepy... which is a nice change of pace from life.

Let's see what week 2 brings.