just over two years ago, this happened.
and wasn't that so much fun! in my mind i was up and doing things a couple days after the surgery. apparently that wasn't the case, though. which has honestly surprised me.
so this time! this time, SO much better. despite getting extremely upset and terrified beforehand. and while waiting at the hospital. and waiting while they slipped some other patient in before me because she was diabetic and couldn't wait for her scheduled time. and while they tried to insist that i have a sedative, when that was just making it worse.
the anaesthesiologist asked me if i'd had any problems with anaesthetic before. "nothing other than i hate it." and he actually asked me why and i don't know if he listened or not, but waking up this time round was MUCH better. so much. and he didn't try to pretend he wasn't doing anything when he was putting me to sleep, either. told me exactly what he was doing, told me what i was going to be feeling, and somehow that made it better, not worse. see? my terror is related to now knowing what's going on. it's a deep, complex kind of terror. at any rate, as the stinging, tingling feeling of anaesthetic started creeping up my arm (after he told me it would come), he told me to think of something relaxing, because usually people have that thought when they wake up.
my mind went blank. i couldn't think of anything relaxing. y'know that moment when your life flashes before your eyes? that's sorta what happened. work, school, prague, last-time's-surgery, the last few hours, happy little 5-yr-old sarah who had no clue any of this would happen, that fantasy i have where i wish i were just a baby lying in a crib imagining what my life'll be like (stupid baby has serious issues), but nothing relaxing. so i finally grabbed at a car-ad version of a beautifully calm field (death dancing in the background, so happy together!). and then i was gone.
waking up, i was a little cold. i remember the surgeon telling me things, but i don't know how well my memory knows it. if i wasn't dreaming, i actually still have my cartilidge in there, they didn't take it out afterall. that'd be a thrill!
so i came home to coquitlam. and am still there. because y'know what i've realised? if you're on crutches because you really actually need them, and can't put weight on one leg, you can't carry anything. and by anything, i'm talking about a plate of food, a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice . . . it's a little problematic. so i could go back to the honey house, sit around doing not-a-helluva-lot, and either have to eat standing up on one leg which kinda goes counter to the whole "keep your leg elevated" thing or resign myself to starving, or i can stay here where there's at least one out of four people around to help me out and carry things from room to room. s'funny the things you take for granted.
here's the amazing bit, though. first night? i took 0 painkillers. took some homeopathic anti-inflammatory stuff that was recommended to me, but no painkillers. it was fine. second day, had to start on tylenols and oxycocet. thursday, just oxycocet because then it really hurt. yesterday, not so much. but that's in part because i was kinda weirded out by feeling dizzy and spacey most of the day, despite having had no drugs. kinda scared me, really. today, back to no painkillers yet. probably in the afternoon -- that's how it seems to go.
even so, i haven't accomplished much. watched an entire season of buffy in one day. caught up on scrubs. did some cjsf work, a bit of schoolwork, some sfss work. but mostly just sitting about because i can't concentrate on anything. it took me 5 days to write this out. and it's not so good sitting up at a computer because the knee starts to hurt more.
my crowning achievement? having a shower and washing my hair yesterday without getting the dressing on my knee wet. it's nice to feel 75% clean, poor leg having to feel left out! and i really miss coquitlam water. makes my hair so much nicer. it's not my imagination, there's something in the pipes at the honey house that just doesn't let me feel entirely clean -- i just get used to it when i'm there.
otherwise, i'm just getting cabin fever. and trying not to look at the prick on my hand where the IV was. i was complaining to my grandma how bored i was. "well," she said, "you're always running around and doing so much, you must be going crazy having to just sit there!" and that's exactly it. but you know what? i nearly tried to go to work this week. until the nurse gave me a really dirty look for even suggesting trying to work. and until i realised that the dr's prescription of "little to no weight on that leg" doesn't mean using crutches all the time, it means sitting with the leg up and not doing anything, because moving a bunch is actually going to ruin some of the work he did in there. (i also know this because i just tried to see how much weight i could bear to put on that leg, and paid for it in pain dollars. i'm stupid, it's true.)
so . . . yeah. hi. i had surgery. it was better this time round. i still don't want to do it again. feel free to call and say hi, because i'm pretty bored. and not in concentration-mode yet. unless i can get grim fandango to start working. or if ilam brings the next season of buffy by. then i might have something brainless to do. briefly.