Under the knife

After getting a second opinion (and switching to that new doctor), I had ankle surgery on Tuesday morning, and overall everything went well. I had to be there by 8 AM, which was good because The Husband could take me after dropping the girls off at school and we didn’t have to enact Plan B for how to get me to the hospital.

I got there, went to registration, then was sent to the surgery waiting room. I was called back, had to change clothes, and after a series of questions and a bit of waiting, it was time to put in my IV. This was something I was dreading because I’ve had issues with this thing before. So I asked the nurse if she was good at sticking because I’ve had problems before, and she pulled out her ego big time. I should’ve known not even let her try, but then I thought I was being not very fair. First try: she blew out my vein. Second try: she blew out my vein. Good job, Ms. I’ve Been a Nurse 12 Years and Can Get It. She said she only does two attempts before getting someone else, and I wanted to tell her that there was no way in hell I was letting her try again anyway. I asked if they had anyone who is good at sticking kids since that takes more precision, and she didn’t really react much to that but then brought in the other nurse they had a nearby and asked if he would try. By this point, I was in tears and very upset, so he did a good job of calming me down, telling me that my job was to stay still, and his job was to get the needle in me, which thankfully he did on the first try.

We had quite a bit of waiting time after that, so we turn on the TV and watched some Three’s Company on TV Land, which entertained me quite a bit since I used to love that show when I was growing up. Finally I was taken back to the operating room at 10:55 AM. I remember moving from my initial bed over to the operating table, them giving me some oxygen via mask and strapping down my body and my arms. I also remember the anesthesiologist saying he was going to make up a cocktail for me to go to sleep. They never had me count backwards from 10 or anything like that – I was just out.

I’m told I was in surgery for a little over an hour, and that it went perfectly. The doctor told The Husband that both ends of my bone were loose, meaning there was nothing connecting them, not even really much scar tissue. So, a good sign the surgery really was necessary. He got a plate and screws in place and added in the synthetic bone graft, then put me in a splint that I will wear for a week. I go in for my follow-up appointment on Wednesday morning of this week, at which point I will have an x-ray to make sure everything looks good. I should also get clearance to move back to the cast boot, and I’ve asked if I can get a new one since my current one is pretty rank.

After I woke up in the recovery area, The Husband came back pretty soon after, and I continued to receive fluids as I woke up. I asked for some grape juice, though my stomach was angry anytime time I would swallow anything. They tried sitting me up in bed, but that almost immediately made me dizzy, lightheaded, and nauseated. I asked for something to throw up in, but I don’t think I actually threw up while at the hospital, though I could be wrong about that. I had to leave the bed down for a few more minutes, then tried again to sit up. I was having quite a bit of pain in my ankle, usually it would come and go but be very intense when I would have it. They had maxed out how much pain medicine they could give me, so we really needed to get discharged so we could go get my Percocet filled and start that.

I finally managed to get dressed with help, and they wheeled me out to the car. It felt like they were pushing the wheelchair so fast, and then I hit the hot air outside, and before we had even been in the car for 30 seconds, I was asking for a bag so I could throw up, which I did. The 20-minute drive home was pretty challenging, but I made it. I went right back to the bedroom, stopping at the bathroom first to pee, and I also threw up quite a bit then too. The Husband got me settled and then went to the pharmacy to get my Percocet and some phenergan I’d been prescribed for the nausea. I spent most of the day and evening sleeping on and off, and thankfully I was able to eat a normal dinner that night, and my appetite has been fine since then.

I spent most of the past week in bed with my leg elevated, just sleeping and reading and giving myself the time I need to recover. My ankle pain is some better now, though I do have definite moments of pain, but I was able to stop the Percocet on Saturday night and move on to ibuprofen. It’s nice to not feel like I’m in a fog all the time now. Technically I returned to work yesterday (Monday), working from home, but they went easy on me with my assignments, and I’m hoping that’ll be the case all week.

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