The Surgery

One week before the surgery my anxiety grew to unprecedented levels.  Everyday I became more anxious.  I can't explain how hard it is to imagine laying down on a table knowing when you wake up, you will feel incredible pain, not be able to take care of your kids, and not be able to walk for over a month.  I knew the recovery was 6 months long, there wasn't a short end in sight.  No, I wasn't afraid of dying on the table or anything that dramatic but I worried how much all the stress affected my kids.  On the way to school one morning my three year old asked me, "Do Mommy's die?"  I was flabbergasted.

"NO!  I am going to be fine and Mommy will always be here."

"But you said they would put you to sleep for the surgery.  Will you wake up again?  How will you know when you are awake again?"

He is three and obviously didn't understand the scope of things.  He didn't understand anesthesia, honestly I don't really get the science behind it either, but his worries were real.  No matter how many times I told him I would be okay and that I wasn't worried, this was just a small bump in a very long road, he saw through me.  I was terrified.

For some reason my surgery was bumped from 12:30 in the afternoon to 2:45pm.  That meant no food and only 8 oz of water starting at midnight the day before.  Happily, it afforded me the opportunity to bring my oldest son, Ethan, to school, and spend the morning with Owen.  We went to the library and a park.  I put him down for his nap at noon and because he forgot my surgery was only hours away, I didn't remind him, and I didn't say goodbye.

As I walked out of his room, my eyes welled up.  "Breathe deeply."  I walked downstairs, told my husband it was time to go, said goodbye to my father-in-law who reassured me I would do great, and strapped on my seat belt.  My poor husband.  I am brave for everyone else in the world.  My boys never see me cry.  I stay strong at the hardest times for them so that they always have a rock, but the second my boys are out of view, I loose it every time.  I looked out the window and cried.  Randall didn't say anything which I was unbelievably grateful for.  There are times to talk, to reassure, to listen, and times to quietly understand.  At that moment I needed to let it out for a few minutes so that I could put myself back together by the time we arrived at the surgical center.

I calmly checked into the center as everyone watched me limp into the lobby.  In one hand I held my $1,900 brace, the other clutched a set of crutches.  My husband had my hospital bag equipped with a toothbrush, clean clothes, and my ID.  Within 5 minutes a nurse asked me to follow her back.  My husband would be allowed to follow in 20 minutes or so after they prepped me.

Nurses are seriously angles sent from Heaven.  They are the most wonderful people I have ever met and the things they witness and endure are beyond courageous.  They aren't there for a fancy paycheck or title.  Everyone of those people were there because they wanted to be.  They knew I was freaking out on the inside.  Their x-ray vision saw straight through my brave facade and knew how to help.  When I get nervous, I become painfully sarcastic.  They rolled with the punches and dealt them back beautifully.  Before inserting my IV, Nurse Linda asked if I needed to pee one last time.  I said, "Yeah that's probably smart."  As I waddled away, butt hanging out of my open gown, she laughed, "I knew we would scare the pee out of you sooner or later!"  The bathroom door slammed closed and I knew I was in good hands.

For some reason I pictured a female anesthesiologist.  Instead I got a wonderful older male who reassured me he anesthetized the dinosaurs.  He asked me what I needed from him and I simply said, "Don't let me wake up.  Let me fall asleep before I enter the operating room and then wake up when it is all done and I will love you forever."  He smiled and assured me he could do one better.

When you have work done on a major joint, it hurts.  There is no way of sugar coating the amount of pain you feel when you wake up and the best way to combat that pain is to block the nerves off before they cut you open.  I never had an epidural when my two boys were born.  They were both completely natural so I was a little nervous about a pain block.  But this time I had nothing to prove.  Let's make this easy on myself, the nurses promised I wouldn't regret it.  The anesthesiologist found a cluster of nerves using an ultrasound, then poked around my back 3-4 times using a huge needle (5 inches long) until my quadriceps jumped around like a pendulum on a clock.  Once the muscle danced, the doctor knew we found the right nerves, he released the medication and within 5 minutes I couldn't feel my right leg.  They sedated me slightly for this so I wouldn't move, but when he finished pulling out the needle I joked with the doctor, "That was the most pathetic sedation I've ever felt!"  He snickered.

Within a few minutes they put more meds into my IV, "This is the good stuff," the doctor smiled.  And we made our start towards the operating room.  Randall was standing in the main hallway.  He looked scared.  I smiled at him, full of blissful drugs, and said, "It's okay.  I love you.  I'm fine.  I'll see you soon."  Black.

I don't remember the sterile operating room.  I don't remember the 15+ people.  I don't remember my puncture holes, the cameras, the continuous x-ray machines, waking up apparently very emotional, nothing.  At one point a nurse appeared very faint.  There was pure white light and her cute little blue hat holding back her hair.  "Jen, take your boys to the beach.  Have you been to the beach?"

"Yes."

"Take your boys there.  Relax.  Build a sandcastle.  Splash.  Have fun."

When I awoke at 6:45pm I felt a lot of pain in my hip and back.  I looked down.  I was in my brace and it felt tight.  "How long have I been here for?  Have I been awake for a while?  I hurt."

Nurses flooded the room and immediately started dosing me with amazing pain meds which washed away my discomforts like the sand under my toes.

"You lied to me."  I teased.

"What?  We did?"

"Yeah, you said I wouldn't dream.  I had the most amazing dream.  My boys and I were at the beach and we built the biggest sand castle you've ever seen.  We body surfed in the waves and my oldest son touched a huge fish.  It was beautiful."

"Oh, sweetheart.  That's wonderful.  You awoke from the anesthesia very upset.  You were scared and crying.  We told you to take your boys to the beach and you immediately calmed down and drifted back to sleep.  You love your boys very much.  They are your calming place."

"Where is my husband?"

"He isn't allowed back here until you are fully awake.  We will take you to your overnight room and he will be there waiting."

While I was fully terrified of the surgery, it wasn't so bad.  I fell asleep telling my husband I loved him.  I woke up with my boys at the beach.  Soon after my husband held my hand as I asked him the same questions over and over again.  He kept smiling at me saying, "You did great, Jen."

I had two full time nurses that night in the hospital.  They were with me every hour delivering pain meds and helping me to use the toilet.  I asked my physical therapist weeks before the procedure how someone pees after this surgery and she said she had no idea.  Well, now I know, like a 90 year old woman with a walker and no range of motion in her hips or legs.  It sucks.

The morning after surgery my right knee and leg were literally three times bigger than normal.

I am partially weight bearing relying strongly on crutches for everything.  I will wear TED compression socks 24/7 for two weeks.  I have calf squeezers for blood clots 20/7 for two weeks and a passive motion machine that moves my knee in and out at a 45 degree angle for 2 weeks and an 80 degree angle for the third week.  I use that machine 10 hours a day.  Half of my labrum was "crab meat" so they cut that all away.  The surgeon said the other half was torn but usable so they stitched up the tear, stretched it out and rolled it up on the other end to replace the irreparable damage.  They anchored that all down and ground down my hip bones in multiple places.  I had a large bone spur on my femur (the ball part of the hip) that caught everything nearby and left lots of tears and scaring.  That little devil is forever gone and my hip has zero impingement.

Owen cuddled with me right away.  He really missed me and wasn't afraid of the machines.  My oldest struggled at first as he came home from school to me strapped down to all this stuff and it scared him.  Once he saw it was still Mommy under all that he gave me a hug of relief.  

When the surgeon came out of surgery to talk to my husband, he said I had the hip of an 80 year old grandma.  Now I have a perfect hip.  He deemed it a huge success.  I now do physical therapy exercises twice a day every day, and will visit the PT office once a week, for the next six months.  I ran 2 full marathons and 9 half marathons on an "80 year old hip."  Give me time to heal properly and I will prove what I can do with a healthy one.

6 Days Post-Op.  This is my second time outside in a week.  I get a few minutes each day where I get out of bed and outside is the first place I ask to go.  

This morning I asked my husband to sit on the porch with me for an hour while the kids were at school.  He looked at me really kindly and said, "Jen, I really need some exercise."  Don't I know it!


~Roadburner

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