• Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 148 other subscribers
  • “Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers” — Isaac Asimov

  • Recent Posts

  • Pages

  • Categories

  • Archives

  • Blog Stats

    • 176,696 hits

Going Under the Knife

Today is THE day!

It is surgery day!

Yay!

Strange response, eh?

Well, if you’d been in the pain that I’ve been in since last Sunday night, you’d be happy too!

A friend asked me if I was nervous.

I said no but then modified my response to say that while I’m not looking forward to the pain that will follow surgery, I am ready to get it over with so that I can begin my recovery in earnest.

It’s strange to be the one on the operating table.  In the past, it’s always been Chicky.

In the past, it’s been me who’s sat in the waiting room for hours, praying and keeping others apprised of the procedure.

Now, others will be waiting for me.

Showtime is 2pm, a little later than I’d prefer, but a time that’s in God’s hands.

Instead of waking up to a cast, I believe, if I heard correctly, I’ll be wearing some sort of adjustable wrap.

I envision something similar to what Chicky had on…velcro straps to hold the padding and brace in place.

Before I’m put under, I have a few questions for the doctor…

The first one is the most important, in my opinion.

Will I be able to run again?

I know I’m not training for the Olympics.  I recognize that I’m no spring chicken.

I have, however, come a long way in my fitness level from where I was at this time last year.

Super Sis and I recently talked about my 8.5 mile run from last week, and she wanted to know how I’d done it.

I told her that I’d just told my legs to keep going, and they had.

I’d told myself to trust my legs and let them do the work because they were strong enough, and they had.

I’ll admit that I’m nervous about asking the doctor this question.  I’m not sure that I want to know the answer.

He’s a no-nonsense guy.  The man don’t play, as my students would say.

Regardless, I am Auburnchick.  I’m fearless.  I ask all the dumb questions.

Ha!

I sure would appreciate continued prayers for the surgeon’s hands as they rebuild my ankle, for a smooth transition out of the surgery (getting put under has made me sick in the past), and for as little pain as possible afterward.

Also, could you pray for the Mr.  He’s under an enormous amount of pressure trying to balance my care, the planning of Rooster’s rehearsal dinner, and doing his regular not-at-home job.

Please pray for his safety as he travels back and forth from Podunk, USA, to get me to my surgery and then back home to care for our fur babies and eventually back to pick me up and take me home.  I’ll be staying with his parents for a day or two to give me an extra day of recovery before I travel in the back of our car on country roads.  Go ahead and say car sickness and ouchies from bumps and curves.

Thanks, all!!

Headed Home

I arrived at Chicky’s house twelve days ago.

It’s hard to believe that nearly two weeks have gone by so quickly.

During that time, she had her ACL surgery.  Life, for a few days, passed in four-hour increments…the amount of time between doses of pain medication…

I spent more money at CVS in a five-day span than should be allowed.  Chicky now has a fine assortment of stool softeners, anti-itch medicine, and Advil tablets (for the inflammation in her knee).

By the way, I think some of the above was a bit TMI.

Oh well.

We celebrated Christmas…

Puppy sitting for one of the athletic trainers…

I received lovely gifts.  The earrings were from Super Sis and her family.  They also gave me the jewelry stand.

I got to love on lots of fur babies, including Cali and the others Chicky’s roommate brought home with her on Saturday…

Cali was concerned about Chicky, sensing that things were off.  She has stuck close to her side ever since we got home from the surgery…

Chicky and I tried to get out to stores on the 26th; however, she became too ill from her pain meds, so we had to turn around and go home.

I was determined to get her moving, so we tried again the next day, after she’d quit taking her pain pills, and she fared much better, even riding around Target in a motorized wheelchair.

The 27th was a big day for Chicky; she had her follow-up with the surgeon and her first physical therapy appointment!

The PA in the doctor’s office got her leg to 80 degrees…

This was a huge step and vitally important to achieving full range of mobility again.

Some of the best news was that Chicky could take the immobilizer off and walk with one cane for support.  This made our shopping excursion the next day a lot less cumbersome…especially while we tried on shoes and fun leggings…

Those are my legs in the center picture, and no, I did not purchase the pants, showing great restraint. Had the Little Mermaid pair been available in my size, I would have bought them.

We had a bit of an adventure when we took Chicky’s laundry to a place that did everything for us.  At ninety cents a pound, with a minimum of nineteen pounds, we thought it was a great deal…

Until the woman weighted Chicky’s stuff…

And discovered that she had over thirty-six pounds of dirty clothes and linens.

I went halfsies with her, and we killed four hours of waiting by doing the above shopping.

We also ate a free lunch, courtesy of Tijuana Flats…

Chicky held up like a trooper.  I was extremely proud of her.  Neither one of us napped that day either!  It was a victory all the way around!

Our twelve days together found us watching a LOT of TV.  We decided to watch Prison Break, which I’d watched when the series originally aired and had gotten a hankering to watch after my nail salon played the pilot the last time I got my nails done.

Chicky was hooked from the first show, and we spent hours, end-on-end, watching.  We made it to Season 2, Episode 13, I think.

Our addiction was so bad that as we killed time on Saturday, we would look at each other, smile slyly, and admit to wanting to be back at the house watching TV.

Something I did not do much of during that twelve days was work.  I just didn’t feel like it, despite taking all of my lesson planning stuff and a bunch of grading.

My focus was Chicky…even on the days when I wanted to go into the bathroom and cry because of the way she was lashing out at me…a lot of it because of the pain and sickness from the surgery.

These last twelve days have been about servitude…giving when it’s not easy…forgiving when the hurting is more than physical…compromising when needed but standing your ground at certain times too (“Yes, you have to take these pain killers,” said on the second night home from the surgery).

These last twelve days have been about patience.  I did, after all, invade Chicky’s world…the microcosm of existence that she has created for herself as a bona-fide adult.  I didn’t always do things like she would have done, but I tried.  We both had to bite our tongues more than one, or three, or twenty times during these last couple of weeks.

These last twelve days have been about watching my little girl…not so little, really, this go-around with the ACL surgery (the last one was eight years ago)…fight for independence over the daily tasks that I won’t be here to help her do when I leave today.

While it’s going to be hard not to be with her, protecting her from puppies that might run into her in their exuberance (ahem), reminding her to ice her knee after doing her twice-daily exercises, and dispensing her Advil, I know that God continues to hold her in the palm of His gentle hands.

It’s been such an honor, and I do mean that, to take care of her…tending to her needs…being there when she called out for me in the middle of the night.

We will return to our busy lives, but I’ll never forget this time with my girl…a hidden blessing bestowed upon me by my gracious heavenly Father.

%d bloggers like this: