Surgery - A Many Splendid Thing

So I made the right choice. I went in to see the doctor, sports medicine hero Chris Wahl. I knew what he was going to say already. Have surgery. It's the only way to heal a Jones Fracture. I knew this because I'd done a great deal of research on the internet (did you know that Word tries to capitalize the word "Internet"? That's so 1990s), and all of it told me the same thing. Find a surgeon to drill a screw through your metatarsal, the biggest screw possible. As I knew this was going to be his suggestion, I'd already decided to have the surgery, and deal with paying for it later.

For the first time in weeks, good news. Dr. Wahl's surgery schedule had an opening the very next day. An opening wide enough to fit in my fat ass. So I accepted, and found myself on the fast track to total healing. But there are all kinds of things associated with surgery that you never really think about. They have to tell you about all the bad things that could happen. Liability, right? The patient has to make a fully informed decision, and can't do so unless given all "material information" - stupid lawyers. So they tell me that while cutting into my foot, the doctor could cause horrible nerve damage. I may never be able to feel my foot again. I may lose the foot. Worse yet, I may have a reaction to anesthesia and die. Or even worse than that (to me), wake up with total paralysis. I was freaked out. So much so that I don't really remember any conversations I had for the rest of the day beyond signing my rights away on the medical release form.

My parents, God bless them, accompanied me to surgery. It was a strange experience. To begin, the anesthesiologist was a resident. He couldn't quite get the IV into my vein. He tried twice and failed both times. I had a bruise on the top of my hand for two weeks. The nurse did it on the other had in 10 seconds. Experience counts. They ask you a hundred times on which foot the procedure will focus. Left foot. Left foot. Left foot. Finally the doctor comes in and writes on your foot. And sometimes they still screw this up.

The immediate pre-surgery experience is great. They start rolling you towards the surgery room. You get this warm air blanket to cover you, because the surgery room is about 50 degrees. And you need it, because all you get to wear is that robe that doesn't cover your ass. They started administering a nerve reducing agent, something to take the edge off. It made me laugh. Then they got me in position, and covered my mouth with a tank of something. They told me that it was oxygen. But I'm pretty sure they lied, because I remember being wide awake, and then I remember waking up in the recovery room. My parents were there waiting, and I got to eat some chocolate pudding and drink some water :) After I managed to go to the bathroom (again, with my ass hanging out), they let me leave.

Next step - recovery.