As I mentioned in my last post, I had surgery a week ago. I haven't worked on my novel, blogged, or done any writing of any kind since then, as I've been recovering and on too many drugs to know how to properly put together a sentence.
Staying away from writing causes me almost as much pain as my ankle does. Seriously. I hate being unable to do the thing I love. I know it's temporary, but I have all these wonderful projects on hold and I desperately want to finish them. But I figure I can at least write an update on my surgery because, given the topic, this one can be exempt from the usual grammatical and coherency standards.
Speaking of coherent blogs, I've been frequently checking out blogs I find via Twitter. If a title looks interesting, I click on it. I'm coming across a disappointing number of blogs that are poorly written and in desperate need of editing and spell-check. I stop reading these. I don't understand why people don't bother to edit their blogs. No one will read it if it isn't legible. You might as well just write a private journal. Edit your blogs, people! Otherwise it is a waste of everyone's time. All right, rant over.
Okay, so, my surgery went well, as you might have guessed, otherwise I probably wouldn't be writing this. The doctor discovered 2 diseased tendons (I think that means they were torn). He repaired them and also tightened a nearby ligament in order to better support the tendons. He thinks the tendons had a bad reaction to the sutures used in the surgery back in October. I asked why the ligament repaired in October didn't have that problem, and he doesn't know why. I had been concerned that I'd re-injured something by exercising too much, and I'm glad to know this wasn't the case. Hopefully, everything will be okay this time and I can heal properly and start taking walks again. I miss taking walks. Among other things.
Prior to surgery, I was sitting in the waiting room with my mom. The nurse calls up Mary (this is my first name, which I pretty much only go by at doctors offices). While my mom and I gathered up my crutches and oxygen, the nurse was giving us a really weird look. Finally, she asked who was having surgery. I said it was me, and then she asked me my last name. Apparently she had called up the wrong Mary. After finding the correct Mary, I was left in the waiting room to…wait for it…wait. At least they discovered the mix-up and I didn't have that other Mary's eye surgery. That would not have helped my ankle. Nor would my ankle surgery have helped her eyes.
Random woman named Mary, I hope your eyes are doing well.
Once I was checked in and wearing the correct name tag, a nurse was putting the IV in my arm. I watched an air bubble float down the tube and I started freaking out because on TV, air bubbles are bad. People die from injecting air bubbles.
The nurse patiently explained to me that this is flat out bullshit. Air bubbles are really common and totally harmless. Then she went on a rant (rightly so) about how annoying TV and movies are. She also mentioned how stupid it is in the movies that patients are always left unattended, giving the bad guy ample free time to just walk in and kill someone. She assured me that this is not realistic. There are always nurses, doctors, and other staff everywhere. I felt comforted knowing that air bubbles and murderers were not going to be my undoing.
While we were waiting, I started explaining to my mom what my current novel was about. The nurse walked in just as I was explaining that it's a, "Young adult, mystery, suspense, horror."
The nurse warned, "Don't put air bubbles in someone's IV." It was funny. But maybe you had to be there. But I'm glad you weren't. That would've been weird.
Eventually, I had surgery. Upon waking, I was much more disoriented than I had been after my previous surgery. Actually, I had temporary amnesia, which was frightening. When the nurses told me surgery was over, I started freaking out. I was like, "I didn't have surgery! That was in October!" For a few short minutes it was like I was in a horror film, but luckily, my memory came back in about five to ten minutes. I went home and began resting. And resting.
And resting some more.
It really is not that exciting. I'm laying in bed, elevating my leg. I can't walk without crutches, so I can't do a whole lot. I'm in pain, so it's difficult to get any writing done. My brain is very foggy. I can't even read books that are overly complex. I was in the process of tackling "Crime and Punishment" prior to surgery. That is currently on hold. Not an easy read on drugs.
In case anyone was wondering, using crutches while on drugs is not easy. At all. I'm dizzy and out of it and trying to stumble through the apartment on one foot. Plus, my cat is constantly walking right in front of me or sitting in the middle of the hall. I think he's trying to kill me.
I had my follow-up the other day. The doctor said my ankle looks good. I don't know why. I think it looks awful. It's swollen, bruised, stained with orange dye and blue ink, and is all wrinkly and dry. But apparently all that is normal, and I'm doing well. Yay!
I have two more weeks of no-weight bearing. Hopefully my brain can clear a little bit and I can get a little writing done in the next couple weeks!
Right now, I'm off to crawl across the apartment for a cup of coffee. Yes, crawl. There are only 2 ways to carry a cup of hot coffee right now. One is to crawl across the floor. The other is to use my rolling computer chair. The chair doesn't roll very well on carpet, so it actually takes less effort to crawl. So I'm going to crawl. Sure, it lacks dignity, but who cares about dignity when there is coffee involved.