Operation Feet

I've tried writing this particular post several times over the last two days, but considering the high levels of Vicodin in my system, the task has proven to be a bit of a challenge!

So, Wednesday was the big surgery day (well, not exactly the surgery day, considering this is the fifth surgery in my 30-year lifespan, but hopefully the only surgery day for 2010).  My sister, Tarah, took me to the hospital at 6:30 am (I was up at 5 am to make sure my feet were well-scrubbed and my legs smoothly shaven).  After about an hour in the waiting room, I was called into an office to complete paperwork before being sent off to change into a gown and booties and climb aboard a bed, making sure to discreetly stuff the third piece of my uniform, a blue mesh shower cap, under my pillow.  I was rolled into the pre-op room around 8:30 am, where I was immediately hooked up to a blood pressure machine, heart rate monitor, oxygen, and, after a difficult search for a usable vein, an IV in my hand. 

Not surprisingly, as soon as I was all hooked up I had to go to the bathroom, and much to the nurse's annoyance, I was firm in my refusal to use a bedpan.  Once I was reattached to all the machines, I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  Finally the nurse started pumping a soothing and relaxing IV fluid into my system, and soon thereafter an anesthesiologist ordered me to flip over into prone position so he could place a "block" behind my knee in order to completely deaden my right foot. Because of my nerve damage, I don't feel sensations of pain below my knees, but I certainly didn't tell him that...just in case!

Finally, I was rolled into the operating room, shower cap on my head, and transferred to a hard table, where my arms were spread out and strapped down crucifix-style.  An oxygen mask, entirely too large for my face, was crammed over my mouth and poked into my eyes, but I couldn't fight it with my arms pinned down.  My eyeballs started to burn and my throat closed up, but just as soon as I was about to have a meltdown, I was off in la-la land.

In a nutshell, the surgeries consisted of the following:

• Both Feet:  Achilles tendon lengthening--Routine 10-minute surgery to release the foot-drop-causing contractures in my feet by cutting "Z" shapes into my Achilles tendons.
• Right Foot only:  Tendon Transfer--Reconstruction of the tendons and muscles in the ankle, to further prevent drop foot and keep the foot from becoming deformed.
• Right Foot Toes:  Metal pins in each toe to straighten them out.

All of these issues were a result of my injury and had been consistently getting worse in the last few months, to the point that I could no longer walk, even with the aid of crutches.

The next thing I knew, I was shaking uncontrollably in a bed in the recovery room.  I was freezing cold, but I threw the blanket off my legs to check out my new bionic feet.  All in all, my surgeries went well.  My left foot was in a black walking boot and my right foot was wrapped in an ACE bandage.  Sticking out of the tops of my toes were claw-shaped metal rods tipped with rubber (see photos to get the full effect).  After an hour in the recovery room, I was moved to a post-recovery room, where I changed out of my gown and into my clothes and was met by my sister.  Upon receiving my discharge instructions from a bored nurse, we left the hospital around 5 pm, ten and a half hours after arriving.

Now I am recovering at my sister's house.  Keeping the feet elevated.  Popping a pill every few hours.  Sleeping.  Having crazy dreams.  Eating.  I cannot put any weight on either foot, so I am rolling around in the old wheelchair to get around.  To get up and down the stairs, to and from my bedroom, I slide around on my bum.  I'm scheduled for my first follow-up appointment in two weeks, so I suppose in the meantime I will stick to my little routine and continue enjoying the Vicodin while I can!