January 27th, 2011

I set the alarm for 3:50 a.m. but I wake up shortly before. My husband takes his shower while I dress. I’m a little cold but the night is clear and a sliver of moon accompanies us until we reach the fog rolling in, about ten miles down from our house. The road is however fairly easy since we know it well.
We arrive at Clovis Community Hospital just before 5:15 a.m. Registration goes smoothly. The outpatient center is still quiet with limited staff. It is a comfortable ambiance and I’m not really nervous. I’ve always been like that: I dread things before I am actually living them. Then, my anxiety diminishes as I am going through the things that worried me.
A man in his sixties arrives for a shoulder surgery with Dr. Simonian as well. We talk a little bit. I’m called for prep work before 6:00 a.m. The nurse whose tag read Catherine is great. She is helped by another one who does an EKG because she says, “You’ve reached the magical age of 50.”
They guarantee me I look much younger. It’s always nice to hear, even though today I’m not so sure. They also test my urine in case of a surprise pregnancy. Come on, people, I have four children and have contributed to the renewing of the aging population.
Then the anesthetist pays me a visit. He’s funny and quick, his Indian native accent gives his English an even more accentuated flavor than my French one. He brings me the happy drugs. “It’s like two glasses of wine,” he says. “Just to relax you. Kind of Happy Hour.”
It must have worked because I can only remember being pushed to the OR and moved from one bed to another. I get a glimpse of the surgeon. Clad in his green scrubs, I wouldn’t have recognized him. He smiles and gives me the thumbs up.
Then I’m back to a recovery room where I don’t recognize anyone and it takes me a few seconds to remember what happened. Again, the nurses are great, caring and professional.
I’m switched from the bed to an amazing armchair where I sit for another hour or so. Another nurse takes my IV off and a physical therapist comes over with some exercises to do from home. From today until next Thursday, two sets of 10 to 15 pumping of my ankles, 5 to 6 times a day. It is to avoid clots in my legs. Plus the quad setting and the straight leg raise three times per day starting a day after surgery.
I leave with a new set of crutches although I already have one from my initial ER visit at the same hospital. The nurse insists that I take hers. I guess nobody wants to be in trouble.
I also get an ice machine that the hiker I am initially mistakes for a gigantic water bottle. It comes with some form of attachment that looks like a huge straw.
It is in fact called a Knee Cryo/Cuff. It has two functions: compression to reduce the swelling and cold to reduce the pain. The cooler must be filled with a mix of cold water and ice and the cuff applied to the knee with velcro straps. The blue tube I took for a giant straw is connected from the cooler tank to the cuff and a vent allows the iced water to fill the cuff. When the desired pressure is reached, the vent is closed. Easy enough. My left knee must be iced every hour except during the night.
I am urged to take Vicodin before the pain gets too intense. I get one at 9:10 a.m. and I’m planning to avoid the stuff as much as possible. Will see who wins!
I am wheel chaired to the parking pick up loop and we were home before 11:00 a.m. My friend Joan had left me a message on my cell and at home. I call her and my parents. The afternoon stretches between reading Caribou Island, an interesting but depressing novel after surgery, cat naps, icing, and medicine.
I have a collection of bottles on my commode. It’s more medicine than I have taken in my entire life.
I got Vicodin for the pain, Iboprufen for the swelling, antibiotics for the infection, Vitamin C for strength, something against nausea and another to fight constipation. I have not taken the last two ones. I eat light food: soup, yogurts and crackers and drink a lot of water to hydrate my muscles. That’s my hiker’s tip of the day.
I skip he pain killer until midnight but I give up since pain wakes me up. I have slept for a little more than an hour. It takes a while for the Vicodin to kick in but I wake up around 6:a.m. and don’t feel any pain in my knee. I remember waking up briefly because of the nice sensation of lightness in my leg.