Surgery Notes

I make a terrible immobile person.  Rather than whine BIG TIME, suffice it to say I have had enough of this "non-weight bearing and crutches" routine.  I'd much rather keep my fat lazy rear in bed, pull the covers over my head and pray for the 6 weeks to pass quickly, than try to lug my fat lazy rear about this house on those damn crutches.  But, my body is telling me otherwise.  I just can't stay in that bed, vertical or horizontal, for the majority of 24 hours now that the affects of the anesthesia has worn off, and pain pills aren't necessary every four hours.

Crutches are a total pain.  One must be fairly coordinated and steady to use crutches.  I am not steady on two "good" feet.  Reducing it to one foot is asking for trouble.  Thank goodness that I have Papa's potty chair near the bed, because by the time I'd get out of bed and up on the crutches to the bathroom, it would be too late.  I wonder how many urine soaked casts the ortho doctor has had to change due to such problems?  

I'm told the ankle surgery went well.   I was given a spinal block when I went into the operating room, along with some IV medication which they told me was Verced and it would help me "relax."  At one point I was awakened by the very distinct sound of hammering.  So, in my Versed induced stupor I say, "It sounds like someone is hammering down there!"  The nurse anesthetist says..."Well, yes he is, and I think we'll just give you a little more medicine so you can go back to sleep until were all finished here!"  You'd of thought that they'd have given me enough to begin with, so that I would not have to hear the reconstruction of my ankle at any point in the operating room, let alone remember it after the surgery.   

Once in the recovery room, I was throughly enjoying some wonderfully oxygenated sleep, disturbed by only an occasional squeeze of the blood pressure cuff, until the post surgical patient that they rolled in next to me, made her grand entrance.  My gosh, she carried on, continuously crying, moaning and saying, "Help me, I am hurting so bad!  Pleaaaaaasssseeee!   OH GAWD!  HELP meeeeeeee!"  

I looked over at her and saw that she had the exact same bandage on her right foot and ankle as I did and noticed the nurses rolling their eyes at her dramatics.  Finally I said to her, "Did Dr. K repair your ankle?" and she sobbed, "Uhhhhhh, huhhhhh!"  Then she proceeded to get back to the business of pure pitiful, unrestrained whining! 

"Oh GAWD! HELP Me! PUH LEESSSEE!"

Geez.  I didn't carry on nearly that much when I had a breech birth and this woman was just coming out of surgery.  Shouldn't she still be under the effects of whatever anesthesia they used?

It was at that point that I began to roll my eyes and woke up enough to watch the show.  We were told that the anesthesiologist had gone to lunch and would give the cry baby and I our "Bier Block" injections upon her return.   In the meantime, everybody in recovery had to listen to this woman carrying on.  Some recovery.

When Dr. W. arrived, she came to my bed first to administer the block since I had been out of surgery the longest, as the cry baby continued hollering about how much she was hurting.  I graciously suggested that I go second, seeing that my pain level was considerably less than hers. 

The doctor and the nurses thanked me profusely.  No, really, my pleasure!  Anything to get this woman to shut up! 

It did the trick and we all got a little more rest, before it was time to go home. 

Oh, and for some reason, my Bier Block injection didn't hurt a bit, compared to hers!