..."Pay special attention to the ANAL region... FOR MEN: SCRUB the SCROTUM thoroughly" (Exact directions on Pre-Op wash instructions with capitalisations and all)
At 6:20 in the morning I woke up and looked at the clock and realised I'd set the alarm 1 hour too late and had 40 minutes to get to the hospital (which was 45 minutes away). Gave my body and in particular my 'anal region' possibly the most thorough cleansing session possibly of my entire life as per the detailed instructions given to me with the wash (the most intense cleaning session was the night before since I had to wash night and day. No food and water since midnight left my mouth pretty dry, mum freaked out and we hopped into the car and went to the hospital.
Arrived at the admissions ward, nothing exciting happened there. I saw the funny doctor from last time I was there except I think he must have been at the end of his shift very tired looking, big bags under his eyes. Was greeted happily by one of the nurses as 'the organised boy!'
Bagged all my clothes, put on some gowns, shaved my leg (and he was a she, she said hey babe take a walk on the side) and got introduced to the anasthethist. Stuck an IV into my hand, it stung a bit, told me there was going to be 2 doses one to relax me and it feels damn weird you feel cold from the inside but your skin is warm to the touch, the other to knock me out. "This one is just to relax you" and my head started spinning, my surgeon walked in with a grin on his face and a blood stained gown, "All done here you'll go in, in just a moment!" I blacked out around there.
"Do NOT make any important legal decisions within 24 hours of being under anasthetic," - Your rights and responsibilities at hospital guidebook.
Woke up a few hours later, mouth was dry, overall feeling like shit, wanted to throw up, head was spinning. In response they fed me an ice cube.
I threw up when I got to the ward and pretty much just felt like arse until midnight (it was about midday when I got there). The nurses who came and attended me were all very friendly caring and genuinely concerned (or seemed it) about my well being. I had two older women who were probably the funnier nurses who came up to me and firstly asked "How come you have lighter eyes by dark hair?" I told them how I was half asian, they commented why my sister had light hair, I said I didn't know. They asked me if I had a girlfriend and proceeded to give me relationship advice that amounted to:
"Make sure you get a girlfriend before you leave uni, becuase when you leave you will be lonely and not be able to find anyone since all the couples get married 2 years after uni so you'll have to wait till they divorce to move in. My son had a great girlfriend for 2 years, but then they broke up and he left uni and now he's lonely. Don't end up like my son. He's lonely. "
"See look at her, (Pointing at the other nurse) she didn't meet anyone at uni and now shes single!"
Room aircon was screwed up, so the room was really hot, and the guy next to me as friendly as he was when awake, sounded like he was dying or in severe pain judging by the way he snored. Around 10pm I hadn't 'passed urine,' into this small milk bottle sized and shaped container with a sloped and elongated neck which though being about 7-8 cm across my dad still joked "Ah bad luck son, still won't fit." It was too awkward to use and I couldn't go until the nurse came in and threatened "You realise if you don't pass urine for 6 hours we have to use a cathetar,"
A cathetar (I dont think thats spelt right but it is pronounced like that) is a metal rod they stick up your urethra and into your bladder to ease the process. It also hurts as you can imagine, to have a piece of metal shoved up your urethra. I was scared into peeing.
I impressed myself with a 1 litre effort of urine (the bottle had measurements) which would be the first of 3 litres 'passed' into these bottles (the last time it almost overfilled) I was pretty proud.
Morning finally came, the sickness passed and breakfast arrived. A few doctors came in, checked the bandages for bleeding (It had bled a bit the day before and was redressed) a few more doses of antibiotic into the IV and I was told I just needed an X-ray and then I could go home. This was about 7:30 and the x-ray was at 2:30. I ended up getting out at 3:30. I also got to ride a portable toilet seat and use the toilet! how exciting! and my first shower in the portable toilet seat as well. Exciting stuff.
Physio came and gave me some stuff to do taught me how to use crutches and I sat and read for a few hours.
Mum arrived and carried me home.
Physio is tomorrow, I have an exam on friday and monday, hopefully I'll be able to get to uni.
Hooray,
This is the most relieved I've felt in a long time, finally out of the hospital and back at home, and for the first time since April 4 and a bit months ago finally know where my knee is going and that I can actaully get better rather than being in a constant state of dull pain.
One question I had a lot was after reading my file (with a puzzled look)
"..."
"...So you hurt yourself playing frisbee?"
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Reading this story brought back a lot of memories I had of my first surgery about 11 years ago.
The operation I had was called a "patella reconstruction", which was a bit odd because they didn't reconstruct shit - an issue that didn't become apparent until 7 years later. What had happened was my kneecap has dislocated and chipped a bit of bone off, and that bone had become lodged in a place that meant my kneecap couldn't actually go back in on it's own, so I went into surgery that night. The surgery went for about two hours and I felt like shit afterwards. I was supposed to be in hospital for three days, but ended up being in there for a week because a physio (not my normal one) gave me the wrong set of exercises, which opened up my wounds and I had to get them redone. Fun times.
When I did my right knee in 2002, I had the surgery the same day because I knew exactly what had happened, and had the same surgeon available.
In 2004 (left knee again) it was a new surgeon and this time there was about a week between injury and surgery. Didn't have to do all that prep stuff this time around - just not eat the night before. Had a different doctor who had intended to perform some new (trial) procedure where they graft a bit of quad muscle to repair the ligament that I'd torn. But when they opened me up, the ligament was ruptured at both ends (highly unusual), so wasn't connected to either muscle and was, for lack of a better word, missing. So they just did a clean up, found the liagment and also the bit of bone that chipped off 7 years ago and had since been causing me pain, discomfort and three further dislocations! Angryface. Considered legal action but couldn't be arsed in the end. But the knee has been fine since.
Moral of the story: Have private health insurance. I would hate to have gone through the public system with that run of surgeries.
Good to hear you're coming to AUG. Hope the knee holds up well :)
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