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Slacker-Exerpt from my life

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  • Carolyn
    I sat on the exam table in the orthopedist office. He came in, studying the results of my MRI. I waited nevously for his decision. You need surgery. You ve
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 29, 2007
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      I sat on the exam table in the orthopedist office. He came in,
      studying the results of my MRI. I waited nevously for his decision.

      "You need surgery. You've got a torn meniscus."

      "Crap" I thought nervously. I swallowed, and sighed. Shit happened,
      didn't it? I hadn't had surgery in 20 years since I was four years
      old, and I was not looking foward to it. Damn. We talked for a few
      minutes, getting the date of the surgery arranged, and it was
      decided it would be the day after my first day of college. "Really
      great," I thought sarcastically.

      Fast foward 3 weeks. I looked at my surgical packet for the
      umteenzillionth time, and sighed. I headed into the hospital
      registration area, and filled out all the paper work. Then I went
      over the the CARE unit, and waited until they called me back. They
      wanted me to do a pee test, and I almost didn't make it. They drew
      some blood, and took my vitals as well as looking over what meds I
      took. They told me to take the one for my high blood pressure. I
      grinned and told the nurse "Listen, I don't think that's going to
      make much of a difference on the day of the procedure!" Then they
      had me sign an anasthesia contract, and I was really nervous. The
      contract tsaid they would have to intubate me, and that didn't sound
      too terribly pleasant. Being intubated made me extremely nervous,
      because they could miss my airway. I sighed and told myself it was
      par for the course. It didn't make me less nervous.

      That week I was busy getting stuff done, all of which was near the
      hospital. I became so nervous that I couldn't bear to look at the
      hospital! I told myself to chill out, it was a fairly minor
      procedure, but I still wasn't looking foward to being in the OR.
      Finally, the day of the surgery arrived, and I woke up at 4 am,
      unable to sleep anymore. I watched some TV, played some cards, and
      surfed the net. my mom finally got into town, and came by. We went
      to the University bookstore to get my books, and barely made it in
      time to the hospital. Finally, they called me back, and had me
      change into a gown. I felt glad they they had a big gown, so that
      way my ass didn't hang out the back!! I then watched as they numbed
      my hand to put in an IV, and chatted with the nurses the whole time.
      I was surprisingly calm.

      After a while, some one came into the room I was laying in and
      turned off the TV. He told me it was time to go to the area right
      before I went into surgery. I would speak with the surgeon and the
      anasthesiologist before I went in. I was wheeled away. I got to
      talking to this other lady in the same room as me, and it turns out
      she knew me from when I was a carhop at the Sonic in my hometown. I
      reflected on that as I was wheeled into the OR. They transferred me
      to the table, and put a few monitors on me. I then proceded to ask a
      ton of questions. "What's that do? What's that for? Why is it so
      cold in here? Why are you taking my sock off? Can I have another
      blanket?" Then, Dr. Davis (the surgeon), came in, and we got down to
      business. He readided some of the instruments, and changed the radio
      station to a soothing chanel to help with the excitment phase right
      after someone has gone under anasthesia. The nurse put a mask over
      my face and told me to breath in deeply. I took a half dozen
      breaths, and I was out.

      The next thing I remember was being told to cough so they could take
      the tube out. I remember thinking "Ohkeedohkee".The next thought
      after that was, "Already done?". The I zoned out again. I woke up to
      some pain in my knee, and wondering why the fuck it felt so heavy. I
      lifted the covers and discovered it was in an immobilizer. Oh. It
      was unimportant, so I put the blanket back down. I zoned out once
      again. Then, I woke to more pain in my right knee, and I remember
      thinking "I wish I had something for the pain." The next thing I
      knew, the nurse was coming over with a syringe, and I told her, "You
      must be the worlds greatest mind-reader." She told me I had asked
      for the medicine, but I don't remember. Then, I was aware of how
      much my throat hurt, and how dry my mouth was. I asked for some
      water. Sometime later, I realized mother nature was calling, and I
      asked for a bed pan. Unpleasant, and very undignifiying! Oh well.

      They asked me to sit up and I did. I still wasn't completely with
      the program yet, for I zoned out again. When I came to the next
      time, I felt more aware and better. At least my knee wasn't hurting.
      They took me to stage two recovery, where I was allowed to change
      into my own clothes. Mother nature called again, and I had to walk
      to the bathroom with a nurse behind me. I bit my lower lip, and made
      it the few steps into the bathroom. Then, my ex-husband (whom I am
      still friends with) showed up to pick me up (My mom had to go to
      class, and I had chased her off so she wouldn't be late!), and I had
      to get into his blazer with the immobilizer on. Not easy. I managed
      to stay awake until I got home. I had another daunting challenge,
      climbing five steps into the trailer. Very carefully, I climbed, and
      it only took me about 45 seconds to make it. I was very proud of

      I made my ex order me some pizza (I was paying, but far too groggy
      to talk on the phone yet). I also made him get my vicodan. He was
      gone about an hour, most of which I don't remember, as I was dozing
      on the couch. I had to go to the bathroom, which was at the far end
      of the trailer, and I barely made it. It was a start. I was not
      going to lay around and feel sorry for myself. No, I had too much
      shit to do. My dad came by the next day to visit, and by Monday I
      was back at school. A week after the surgery, I had most of my range
      of motion back, although my leg was still very week. For about 2 1/2
      weeks after the surgery I used crutches and my hinged knee brace to
      walk around. Then, I said screw the crutches, and bought a cane at
      Wal-Mart. I started using the cane, and a few days later, I tired of
      that, and began walking slowly under my own power. I had issues at
      first with my right knee wanting to buckle, but I'd always tell
      it "Right knee, stop! I don't have time for this shit!" With in 5
      weeks, I had built back up the tone in my right thigh, and was able
      to walk with out any problems. My scars are not even that visable,
      and sometimes it's hard to believe I even had surgery. But then I
      roll up my pants leg and see those scars and say to my self "nope,
      it wasn't just a dream."
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