Catching Up

Wow !

This time last week, I was dead to the world - overpowered by Vicadin. Layed back on my couch with my left leg propped up on pillows.

Wow!

The surgery went well.

I arrived at the surgical center at 9, just like I was supposed to (for a 10:30 surgery). The doctor was running ahead of schedule, so ... they wasted no time. Within minutes of arrival, they had me taking off my clothes and putting on one of those very fashionable gowns. (They were operating on my knee - so why do you have to be completely undressed?) I sit (lay) down on the moving bed (gurney, I guess is the appropriate name ??) The nurse asks me a bunch of questions with the last being "why are you here?" She tells me everything matches and the doctor comes in and makes a black mark on my left knee.

Action !!

The nurse on the left sticks this clippy thing on my finger (to measure my oxygen level). Nothing ... she looks at me and says, "YOU ARE breathing". She moves it to another finger and BINGO, it shows that I do have oxygen and that the level is good. The guy on the right is jamming a needle in my arm. The lady at the end of the bed is putting those cute little paper shoes on my feet. Oh, I forgot - I had to put some goofy looking surgical stocking on my right leg, then put on a paper cap. The nurse hands me a little cup of water and 2 pills - oxycontin and an anti-inflammatory pill. They tell my sister that she can leave and they wheel me down the hall into a big room.

That's it - that's all I remember until I wake up in a room that is cold, ICE COLD. You know those little cotton blankets that hospitals use? They aren't very warm. Even when you have several of them on you. That same man that stuck the needle in my arm - comes in and gives me a dose of morphine. At this point, I am thinking SHIT - with all the drugs that they are giving me - this is going to hurt like hell when all of it wears off. I stayed there in that room for what seemed like forever (the nurse was rather chatty, though). I looked up at the clock on the wall and it isn't even 10:30 yet - the time my surgery was scheduled for. It's weird the things I remember - for all I know I was telling everyone my deepest, darkest secrets !!

I get moved to another room and they give me a cup of water and some saltine crackers. I was starving by that point, but do you really know how difficult it is to swallow dry crackers when your mouth feels like a desert? Choking down another vicadin wasn't that pretty either.

My sister shows up to retrieve me. I get dressed - baggy legged capris (which my knee just barely fit into), a XXL t-shirt (from The Raven Bar in VA Beach) and a pair of bright pink crocs that I had bought because October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month ! A fashion statement, indeed ... just a step better than the backless gown that I had just gotten out of (but at least my butt was now covered when I stood up !)

I got the pleasure of cruising down the hallways and out to the driveway in one of those fancy, dancy wheelchairs. Getting into the car was a piece of cake because of the drug induced state my body was in - my brain was functioning properly though - I knew where I was and what I was doing.

Next stop was the grocery store to pick up the prescribed meds - then home. I don't remember much after that ...

And now, its a week later ...

I feel pretty good.

I am in no pain ... that is - unless I carelessly forget what has been done and I step down extemely hard with the left leg or kneel on it ( I have done that at least once each - no more - cause it hurts like hell!). I gave up on the crutches by Friday morning. I only took 3 of the pain pills (twice the first night and one the next). My knee is still rather swollen but there are only 3 battle scars - each covered up by a bandaid.

To be continued ...