December 14, 2007
In a Cruel Twist of Fate. . .
I received two new things today. New things make you feel good right? Not quite. Meet the immobilizer brace that I’ll be wearing every second of my life for the next four-six weeks. My PT had to fit me for it today, making sure he left plenty of room for all the bandaging that will be underneath it. Although it doesn’t look so bad in the bag, the brace is locked at full extension and goes from the top of my thigh to just above my ankle. It’s not uncomfortable now, although I’m sure next week will be a completely different story. I have a feeling my wardrobe is going to consist of pajama pants and pajama pants alone for the next few weeks.
I have to take it with me to the hospital on Monday morning. It costs $850. I can think of about 1000 different ways I’d prefer to spend that kind of money. I will have to pay 20% of that cost.
While at PT, there was a college student there with one of those lovely braces on. I started talking to him while I was on the bike and learned that he was seven weeks post-op. He told me lots of useful information, such as "no underwear allowed in the OR" (fantastic) and that he ended up staying in the hospital for two days post surgery. He also had an allograft, but in addition, he had his MCL and meniscus repaired as well. He didn’t mince words when he talked about the pain afterward. Of course, a college kid hasn’t gone through two natural child births, so I’m trying to forget that part of our conversation.
When I returned home with my brace and a sick stomach (because I couldn’t stop thinking that the next time I go to PT, I’ll be post-op), there was a box waiting for me. My box was from Crane Mountain and contained my brand new purple heart tunfa. I ordered them weeks ago and they were custom made just for me. I gingerly pulled them out of their custom made bag, and didn’t know if I wanted to try to jump for joy or cry.
"How cruel is it that they come today, before my surgery?" I said to Mr. BBM.
He told me I should look at it as a sign of what I’m going back to when this is all over. I swung them around a bit and remarked at how perfect and beautiful they are, because they are just that amazing.
Because the first picture doesn’t really do justice to the amazing color of my new tunfa, I tried another shot. A photographer, I am not, but hopefully you can get the idea.
As soon as I was done admiring them, I packed them away nicely in their individual compartments within the perfect canvas bag. I’m not going to get upset. I’m going to swing them around soon enough.
December 13, 2007
Supercalafragilistic-anesthesiologist
I had pre-admission testing this morning and met with an anesthesiologist.
These are the things that do not make you feel reassured:
- "What religion are you?" (assuming you’ll be needing forgiveness before you pass to the hereafter)
- "Do you have a living will?" (Am I supposed to? I mean it’s only the 3rd anniversary of my 29th birthday, geez.)
- Signing that little paper that they give you without a second thought that basically says if you die, you won’t blame them.
- "1 in 100,000 people have complications from general anesthesia." (i.e. kicking buckets and such)
- "Put your head all the way back and let me see your throat and teeth." (i.e. So I can see what I’m going to be dealing with when I shove a tube down your throat.)
These are the things that do make you feel reassured:
- "Usually underwear is taken off for surgery. However, they do make exceptions if you can make a case for it." (Have I mentioned how good I am at making "a case" for things?)
- Femoral Nerve Blocks can be left in place via a catheter for the entire hospital stay and even after you go home. In fact, some people still have them in and delivering numbing medication when they go to physical therapy for the first time. (Boo YA Baby! Can we keep that sucker in for the first week?)
- I’ll also have a pain pump for the 10-20% of pain that the nerve block won’t cover. I’m not sure how much I’ll enjoy this considering that when my sister had one after back surgery, she thought my Dad had two heads and got all freaked out.
- No urinary catheter. SHWEEEET!
- The breathing tube will come out before I’m ever aware of it.
Everyone at the hospital this morning was super nice. In fact, they were SO nice that after my appointment, a nurse called security for me and had them go retrieve my car since we were getting freezing rain and they didn’t want me to fall on the top floor of the parking garage. Now that all the "pre" stuff is done, I’m feeling better. There’s no telling how long that will last; but even though the day is drawing closer, I’m feeling more relaxed.
Official report on underwear will come post-surgery, so stay tuned.
I better wrap up this post now. I need to start analyzing my underwear drawer to find something surgery appropriate. Maybe I should start my own surgical underwear line that features different sayings on the front and back like, "Can’t touch this," and "If you’re reading this, you’re not concentrating enough on my surgery. Back to work," and "If you can read this, you’re too close to my butt," and "Nothing to see here. Move along," and "You’re fixing my ACL so why are you reading me?" and "Does this look like a knee to you?" and "My knee is down there." Maybe I’ll make my own before Monday. Just so we’re clear, there will not be photographic evidence if such a pair of underwear is created, although it may look something like this:
December 12, 2007
Going to Sleep and Yet Again Underwear
When Big I was around seven months old, I had to have surgery to get my wisdom teeth taken out. I had no room in my mouth and two of them were impacted completely, the other two partially impacted. They hurt, and I had no other option other than to get them out.
I had teeth taken out when I was a kid. My orthodontist recommended I get five baby teeth extracted to make room for the adult teeth coming in. I also had to have four permanent molars taken out because (you are never going to believe this) my mouth was just too small to accommodate all those teeth. They needed to fix the overcrowding before they could straighten things out.
So prior to having my wisdom teeth removed, I had been put to sleep for surgery twice. That did absolutely nothing to ease my fears about being put to sleep for my wisdom teeth removal.
It’s different when you have a baby, someone who depends on you. At the time of my surgery, I was still nursing Big I and that was troubling for me too. What if something happened and I didn’t wake up? She would be out her mother and her food source. I was an absolute wreck.
The day of the surgery, I remember the oral surgeon and the nurses watching me above their masks and I remember telling them that it was really important that I woke up again because I had a little girl. I also started laughing and told them that the oxygen thing they were putting over my nose was never going to fit over this nose. I was starting to feel a little silly at that point.
I don’t remember much about going home after the surgery. They had given me versed, a drug that knocks you out and gives you amnesia. My sister said the surgery took only 20 minutes and that she knew it was over because she heard me crying and moaning from the waiting room. Yeah, not one of my finer moments, but I don’t remember it so there.
I do sort of remember being helped walk to my sister’s car by my sister and a nurse. I kind of remember repeatedly asking my sister, "How long did it take?" and "What time is it?" to the point that she was ready to open the passenger door and shove me out.
My Mom is a nurse and she was shocked when my sister arrived home with me because I simply could not walk on my own. The two of them helped me get up to bed and several hours later I woke up and wondered how I had gotten home.
And then I saw Big I. . . and it was one of the happiest moments of my life. Getting wisdom teeth out isn’t a major surgery or anything, but there are always risks. They always make you sign those papers saying you won’t hold them responsible if they kill you. My Mom handed her to me and I just remember crying because the stress was just gone.
With two kids, my fear about having surgery is multiplied. Mothers are very good at imagining the worst possible scenario. I probably shouldn’t have watched Gray’s Anatomy the other week because one of the patients was allergic to general anesthesia and they had to keep him awake during open heart surgery.
"How do we know I’m not allergic to general anesthesia?" I asked my husband.
"You’re not," he said.
"But how do you know until they give it to you?" I said.
"You’re not," he repeated.
This mother may appear calm on the outside; but inside I am starting to freak out a bit. Maybe when I meet with the anesthesiologist on Thursday, he/she can clue me in on the underwear issue which might make me feel a little better. Funny that it’s the underwear issue bothering me more than a drill going through two of my bones, huh? I guess I’m only officially freaking out about things over which I have a tidbit of control. The other night, I checked my visitor stats and saw that someone was searching for "can I wear underwear during surgery" and guess who is now the #1 Google search for that very issue. After Monday, I’ll be able to answer this very important question for all of you. Aren’t you all relieved?
I can’t even tell you how much I just want this over with.
December 11, 2007
My Professor was on The Daily Show
Every once in a while, when I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about my upcoming surgery, I’ll google a name of someone from the past and see what comes up.
Today I found this:
Lee Gutkind is one of my professors from the University of Pittsburgh. His classes and his writing style fascinated me. Every time I scheduled my next semester, I would try to take something he was teaching. When all was said and done, I believe he was responsible for giving me about 13 credits or so of very well deserved A’s.
I interned for him at his then newly created journal called Creative Nonfiction. In fact, Creative Nonfiction turned into my first job out of college, where I worked an an assistant editor. This man could research the hell out of just about any topic, write about it, and make it interesting.
He used to take essays I had written and cross off the entire first three pages to show me where my story should start. I would initially want to cry, after all that work that I had put into my writing; but then I would read the finished result in front of the class and watch their reactions. I knew it was good because people sat there nodding their heads as I read.
Just about everything that is good about my writing, I learned from him. How cool is it that my professor was on The Daily Show!?!
December 11, 2007
Yellow Toes and Cold Floors
My friend Patrick had knee surgery one summer when I was in high school. The day of the surgery, another friend and I went to visit him. The smell of the hospital greeted us and I immediately got nervous. I hated hospitals, needles, blech. It all made me feel queasy.
We got to his room and Patrick was out cold. We quietly went into his room and stood beside his bed. He had an IV going into his arm, which made me think about the needle that went into his arm, which made me start feeling sick. I had never even had blood drawn at this time in my life, so the slightest thing bothered me.
In an effort to avoid looking at the IV, my eyes moved down his sleeping body to his leg. It was bandaged and under a thin sheet. A couple of his toes were sticking out the bottom of the sheet though, and they were yellow. I knew they were just yellow from the antiseptic they put on before surgery, but that bothered me. Yellow antiseptic made me think about what they did right after they put that stuff on and that made me even more sick.
I tried to concentrate on Patrick’s peaceful looking face, but my brain decided to override it and began controlling my eyes, making them look at the IV (NEEDLES!) and then the toes (YELLOW!), the IV (NEEDLES!), the toes (YELLOW!), the IV (NEEDLES!), the toes (YELLOW!). . .
The next thing I knew, my friend was asking me if I was feeling o.k. I didn’t realize it but I had broken out in a sweat and was feeling extremely hot. She told me I was very pale. Then she got very fuzzy looking, like a TV station that has gone out due to a storm.
My hands reached for the wall behind me, and I slowly slid all the way down until I was sitting on the floor; but that wasn’t good enough. So I slid down even further and flipped myself onto my stomach and put my cheek on the cold floor. It felt so good and I started feeling less dizzy.
Meanwhile, my friend was strongly encouraging me to get up off the floor, but all I could say back to her was, "Floor cold. Floor good." At that moment, a nurse walked into Patrick’s room to check on him and found me on the floor. "Oh my God!" she yelled and started yelling for some help, "We’ve got a girl down." My friend calmed the nurse down and told her that I was really o.k., that I just needed a cold floor. My friend peeled me off the floor and helped me up. I took one last fuzzy look at Patrick, IV, yellow toe, and my friend had me out the door.
When the fresh air greeted me outside, I instantly felt a lot better. I’m hoping that the two natural childbirths I’ve been through will help counteract those "fuzzy" feelings. Otherwise, I might just stay passed out until someone washes off what will probably be yellow toes.
***The drawing at The BBM Review is today! Go see if you’re a winner and check out the other reviews. We’ve added a new reviewer this week whose first post will be debuting soon!
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