January 15, 2009

Mixed Messages

You know you're in for it when the nurse who's about to take your stitches out, takes one look at your leg and says, "Oh, you have one of those. . . I'll be back." My surgeon does this running loop stitch thing and it mimizes scarring but stings a bit more than normal stitches when it comes out. When it comes out, it's one piece and you can feel it tugging underneath your skin.

She came back a few minutes later and peeled up the steri-strips. "Oh" she said, "I'm going to need to go get him. It's still open." My surgeon came in, took a look, and told her to go ahead with taking them out. It looked so disgusting that I wasn't sure if I wanted to gag, throw up, or pass out. With all the mixed signals, my body just decided to ramp up the heat as it began to feel like I was in a sauna and I broke out in a serious sweat. The bonus of having an incision that isn't completely closed yet is that the stitches don't pull as much coming out. Still, I couldn't watch.

Instead of watching the nurse pull out the stitches and put more steri-strips on the incision, I concentrated on my surgeon's face. He said that he removed part of the sheath, and all the scar tissue that had built up all around it. He said there was a lot of fluid in there too and that I should be good to go now.

Of course, there are limitations. I'm supposed to take it easy for the next 7-10 days and avoid doing any type of activity or stretching that would widen the incision and subsequent scar.

When all was said and done, he told me that in a few weeks I can get back to normal. We talked about pivoting, twisting, kicking and sparring and he made it quite clear what he thinks about me sparring again.

"Three step sparring is o.k. but if I were you, I wouldn't do anything beyond that. Revision surgeries do not have a good success rate, and we're talking about your leg and the rest of your life here."

Truly he's right. It's just not worth it.

As I was leaving he smiled and said, "I'll see you around, just hopefully not here." I should have invited him to my birthday party.

On the way home, I stopped at the gym to ask them if they could put a medical hold on my account. In total it will probably be about three weeks that I'm out of commission. At first, they seemed really willing to help. Then she said she would need 20 days prior notice to put it on hold. "I don't think I even had 20 days notice that I was having surgery," I told her.

I asked for the guy who signed me up and he saw me coming as I walked back to his desk. "Remember that free month you promised me when I signed up? I never got it. I've been paying every month since I signed up. I'd like you to put that free month through now. I threw my leg up on the chair and pulled my pant leg up.

He wrote down my membership number and said he'd take care of it. I figured that flashing a little leg would work, just for different reasons than one would think. 

Apparently, the 20 days prior notice business is somewhere on my contract, in microscopic print, on the backside of the paper, written in Arabic code, and requiring a decoder pen from a cereal box. I would just like to know when helping people became secondary to screwing people.

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Posted by on January 15, 2009 in ACL Hell, Mental Strain for Mama | 7 Comments

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