Friday, July 11, 2014

When Life Enters the Picture

There is no excuse.  None. At all.

However I'm going to offer one up anyway.


Life is crazy busy.  You know it.  It's true for you, too.  It seems to be true for everyone these days, doesn't it?  Work.  Cooking.  Shopping.  Movies.  Dinner out.  Family visits.  Friend visits.  Cooking for said visits.  Phone calls.  Life.

Personally, my life has taken a turn further into crazy with appointments and testing out the wazoo (I can't believe wazoo is a real word!).  I won't go into all the craziness of it all, but it's there.

My last post (embarrassingly nearly a year ago) was about a month after I fell.  I had had my MRI and was doing PT.  Ahhhh, such innocent days.  After PT was unsuccessful, the doctor and I decided it was best to schedule surgery.  Eeep, surgery!

Ok, I'll back up.  I go to the surgeon for the first time and he tells me that the type(s) of injuries I sustained rarely needs surgery.  I laugh at him because I had the same injury on my other ankle years ago and wound up having surgery.  I have the surgery in early December and was told that I needed to be non-weight-bearing for 3 weeks.  For someone the size of a hippopotamus that essentially means that I have to live upstairs for those 3 weeks.  To be clear, 3 weeks/21 days after surgery is Christmas Day.  Brilliant.  Someone morbidly obese... ok, I cannot use my weak upper arms to hold up my big-fat body with crutches.  I borrowed a Knee Scooter from a friend and that was a life-saver.  It took a bit to get used to, but crutches were absolutely NOT an option, I was thankful for this.  I had a really hard time going up and down the individual steps in front of the house and wound up crawling on my knees.  It wasn't pretty.

Moving on...  ok, so, I had the surgery on a Wednesday and had a quick check-up on Monday.  All looked good.  Monday night the pain was unbearable.  The doctor had already given me Percocet and Vicodin, but when I called him at the end of the day, he prescribed Dilaudid.  Ok, taken.  But OUCH!  I was still hurting in agonizing pain.  I called him after-hours and he said there was nothing else to do; I should go to the ER.  He also mentioned that he's never had anyone go to the ER for post-op pain.  Hours later, after a lot of groaning, MrB came up and said that I really should head to the emergency room.  Off I went.  They gave me IV Dilaudid and I remember nothing after that.

Changing the bandages was a multi-step process on the outside of my ankle.  Given my size it was a difficult spot to make sure the dressings were secure, so MrB helped me - a lot!  One morning it looked as if I had popped a stitch and called the office to see if they would fix it in the office or if I needed to head to the ER (again).  They said to come, so MrB drove me over to see the partner in the practice.  The bottom line of that adventure was that I had a hematoma which burst at the incision site.  A couple of weeks later I had another follow-up with my doctor.  By that point, the area was ugly absolutely disgusting!  After removing the bandages my surgeon said that he had never seen this happen.

Have you lost count?  That's 1) injury doesn't usually require surgery, 2) never had anyone go to the ER for IV pain meds; 3) hasn't ever seen this problem.

Moving on to #4.  The wound was infected and I wound up going through four rounds of antibiotics.  The surgeon has never seen this (I've come to expect hearing those words by this point), but the wound wasn't healing after some time and he had to refer me to a wound clinic.  Yup.  Is anything ever easy?  So, off to the wound clinic I go.  The clinic treated me with some medical honey and it cleared up after 6-ish weeks.

That's enough life for this post.  But yeah, life has kept me busy since I'd last written.

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