ankle hardware removal surgery: part 1

I don't even know how to start this post...

I'm really really happy. Last night I was up for like 4 hours, between 1-5am, just feeling happy that I'm finally at the beginning of the end of this thing. SO! HERE WE GO (This is kind of long, so I've broken it into part 1 & 2...even though both parts are long too. I figure if you care, you really care, if you don't, you'll move along):

The Night Before: My sweet papabear came up from Eugene (a town 2 hours away) the night before and we hung out, had veggie burgers, talked. As I do every night I took my vitamins. 5 minutes later I realized HOLY SHIT THE NURSE TOLD ME NOT TO TAKE MY VITAMINS THE NIGHT BEFORE SURGERY. Should I throw them up? Dad said no. We googled "which vitamins to avoid before surgery" - lo and behold, omega 3's were on there, and I took fish oil. "May cause excessive bleeding". Awesome. I called the hospital and spoke to receptionist who supposedly asked the night nurse about it and they gave me a bullshit answer that vitamins are fine as long as I didn't take ginkgo. I called my surgeon's on-call number and spoke to his assistant. She put my mind at ease. But I was still nervous. It made me have to poop, so I did - which is good considering after the first surgery I didn't poop for like a week. 

Game Day: My check in time was 7:45a, with a surgery time of about 9:45a (I was awake at like 6a). I pooped again in the morning - I think my body was preparing for the worst (bodies are SO SMART). My dad and J took me to the hospital, I checked in, put my gown on and got and in bed. Shortly after the nurse came and took my weight, vitals, and health history (shout out to J for being my photog). 

I told each nurse (there were 2) about vitamin incident - they both seemed to think it was fine. I also told some other random guy who brought me some paperwork to sign. 

God: Eventually the Chaplain came in - even though I told the nurse who called me a few days beforehand that it wasn't necessary - and I told them when I checked in. He asked me what kind of name "Mihal Freinquel" was, and when I told him it was Hebrew he became noticeably uncomfortable. 

"Oh...well...I've been to Israel...I know some people there," he tried to assure me...or something.

"Oh really?" I said. "Cool." 

"I wish somebody had told me you were Jewish, I have prayer cards especially for my Jewish patients." 

"Well, I'm actually non-practicing, so no worries," I said, trying to set the obviously squirmy man of God at ease. 

"Well you know," he went on, "most people in Israel are actually not religious...it's really just the Hassidic people who are." 

I feigned interest in the bullshit that just came out of his mouth. He eventually thanked me for letting him come talk to me, wished me well, and practically ran out of the room - far away from the awkward Jewish girl with no soul. 

The IV and Dr. Gellman: Right when the nurse began to put the IV in, myleastfavoritepartIhateneedlesohmygod, Dr. Gellman - my superhero surgeon - walked in. As promised, I checked with him one more time to make sure he didn't wanna take the plate in the back out. He said "I'm sure you're sure that you don't want me to." That shut me up. Ugh, I love him. Then he started going over how to change the dressings on the wound, how to take care of it, etc. It was sweet because he was clearly trying to distract me from the needle going into my arm, however, all I could think about was the needle so I heard nothing he said. Whatever. Thankfully my pops caught it. 

Anesthesia/The Operation: Gellman left and the anesthesiologist - who was probably 12 years old - came in. I told him about the vitamins. He said no big whoop. Then they rolled me to the OR. Dad and J kissed me on the forehead and I didn't cry this time. Last time I was unconscious by the time I got to the OR. This time I was a little loopy, but fully aware. I switched beds myself and breathed into that face mask you see on TV. Before I was put under, I asked the staff in there if they watched Grey's Anatomy. One guy said he'd seen 2 episodes. The gal said she prefers House. And the other guy said he likes Scrubs because it's the most realistic. They all said I'd have no recollection of that conversation when I woke up from surgery. FALSE. 

on to part 2...

pre-op

 DAY OF SURGERY: PRE-OP

Up until this point I'd never had surgery - never stayed in a hospital. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been in a hospital. I had to be there at 7am on an empty stomach since midnight the night before. They gave me a backless gown (and made me take off my undies so my tush was completely out), checked my blood pressure, weighed me (when did I lose 10 lbs?? whatever, not complaining), and asked me millions of questions. In between each phase of tests and questions, J and I watched the Today Show - I mean, I looked at it blankly, petrified...too many thoughts running through my overly tired mind. I felt very down, outrageously sorry for myself, and couldn't stop thinking about Grey's Anatomy.

The nurse came by with a cocktail of pills - they explained each one, but I can't remember what any of them were, except for an anti-acid for somethingIcan'tremember. Then they asked if I was in pain...UM FUCK YES I'M IN PAIN I HAVE LIKE 3 FRACTURES IN MY ANKLE AND THE E.R. GUY SAID IT WAS ONLY ONE AND GOT MY HOPES UP AND NOW I'M ABOUT TO HAVE SURGERY AND YES I'M IN PAIN. They hooked an IV up into my hand, it stung. At that point only J had been allowed in the room with me because it was such a small space. Once the IV was in they let my dad in - when I saw him I began to cry. "Daddyyy," I wimpered like an injured puppy.

The nurse said the anesthesiologist said she could give me some morphine. Though I relished in the idea of not being in pain, the notion of hard drugs scared me. She squeezed it into my IV and I gasped with a fierce tightness in my chest. I was dying before I even got to surgery, I feared suddenly. Could morphine cause a heart attack? The nurse sat my bed more upright and the tightness subsided. Ugh. Eventually El Anesthesiologist himself came in, asked me a whole bunch of questions (ps how am I expected to know what meds I'm allergic to if I've never had surgery? seems like a flawed system), and he prepared me for how I'd feel after. My throat might be sore if they have to stick a tube down it to help me breathe. The leg-numbing shot they give me after surgery will wear off in 8-12 hours and then I'll be switched to oral and IV drugs. The numbing shot they give me could paralyze me. Standard shit, you know.

Eventually they wheeled me off - I kissed my dad, kissed J - I was frozen with fear. What if I don't wake up? What if I wake up but have no use of my foot because the nerves are fried? "Are you scared?" the anesthesiologist asked me. "Yes, very." I responded, my voice quivering. "Well if it helps, I'm not at all." That helped, and it's the last thing I remember.

the 2nd opinion

My fall was on a Thursday, and I saw a doctor the following Monday. I crutched into a back room where a woman removed my cast, and saved it on the back counter for later (they do that? It struck me as peculiar). There's no way I'll need surgery, I thought to myself. "I won't need surgery, right?" I posed to J, a question that was mostly rhetorical. He said probably not - the ER doctor said it was a fracture in my fibula and there was no displacement (whateverthefuck that means). The bone doctor eventually came in after having a look at my x-rays. "Well, you definitely need surgery" he said dryly. A little too dryly for my taste.

He listed the risks of not getting the surgery and scared me a lot - arthritis, the bone never healing at all, blah blah. Then he talked about a big nerve they'd be operating around that controlled my outer foot and that "we know where it is and we'll do our best to avoid it." He asked if I had any questions and I did not. I had no thoughts. Oh wait I had one thought: OMG, I'm on Grey's Anatomy.

Fuck you bone doctor. But ok whatever, I'll get your damn surgery. We scheduled it for 3 days later, a Thursday. The assistant then took my old cast, put it back around my leg, and proceeded to affix it back together with ace bandages. MOST PAINFUL. The days with that pieced together piece of shit were the worst of all - no circulation in my leg or foot and it caused major swelling and bruising. I wasn't thrilled with this doctor or his team.

But guess what I didn't know? People in the medical world get second opinions like women buy tampons: ALL THE DAMN TIME. With my family and their friends on board, they hooked me up with this other dude who specializes in ankles and I went in to see him on Wednesday - the day before my surgery with the lame doc. They took off my oppressive Nazi cast and had me do a CT scan which showed that the fracture was way more complicated than the x-ray had shown (thanks for nothing other doctor for not doing that, wtf). These guys knew more, they talked more, and I dropped the other dude like a bad habit - luckily these new folks fit me in for my original surgery date - the next day. My first surgery ever.