First, a short history:
1. Many years of high heels and shoes with extremely tapered toes.
2. Two sprains.
3. One broken ankle.
4. Weeks of training for a half marathon with a tack in my sneaker. (Discovered the night before the race by the way.)
I have not been kind to my left foot. Nothing personal, I swear. But after years of the type of torture I just described, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d develop an Intermetatarsal Neuroma. Basically, this is a thickening of the nerve between two of my toes (above the ball of my foot) that results in tingling, numbness, burning, a piercing pain and this weird feeling like your sock is bunched up in your sneaker or there’s something stuck in your shoe or inside your foot. My first podiatrist failed. (I actually want to say more about this, because c’mon man, that’s your JOB… but I won’t.) Anyway, eventually a friend referred me to Dr. Robinson who diagnosed me immediately and tried everything to avoid surgery, but when the other non-invasive strategies didn’t work, I was forced to consider the slice-and-dice.
Once I made the decision, then came the planning, which took a pre op appointment with New England Baptist Hospital, a pre op with Dr. Robinson, the actual surgery at New England Surgicare, a week of convalescence at home, and a post op with Dr. Robinson (stitches removal).
Well, I was a little edgy going into it, I’m not gonna lie. I mean, I’d never had surgery, and hey, they were going to put me to sleep and carve out my swollen nerve. Needless to say, I could hide my nervousness on the outside, but I kept getting sold out by my slightly high blood pressure. Still the adventure of doing that first pre op was surprisingly – what’s the word I’m looking for? – delightful? Not a drag? Ego boosting? I felt like a rock star! The nurses kept saying I was “so cute”. The one going through the questionnaire with me asked if I went to college because I was “very well-spoken”. Plus, whenever anyone hears that I work for a social service charity, I get about 300 extra credit points. She even liked my black and grey argyle socks. (This is a true story.) So, we got through the tough questions to determine that I am extremely healthy in every other way, and then she came at me with the stethoscope. That’s when she discovered that my skin was all blotchy and I was sweating. “Are you nervous?” Apparently so. She tried to make me feel better about this by saying that she felt it was warm in the room and cracked a window for me. This concession was kinder than you know because I am extremely thermal. In fact, I am pretty sure that it will be me and the polar bears in the next Ice Age.
From my perspective, the only glitch during this preliminary exam was the result of my deep veins. (I miss my mom so much, I’ll take the inherited hit.) The teenage-y nurse who initially accepted the assignment to take my blood was stymied by my line-less arms. I warned her, but she forged ahead convinced she’d found the mother lode. Jab, jab, pinch, jab. Nothing. Blessedly, she resigned and left to find a colleague, conceivably with a better success rate. Blood nurse #2 immediately knew it was no use and ended up using a vein in my hand. I didn’t like the idea of it, but it wasn’t any more painful and at least she wasn’t wriggling something sharp and pointy under my skin.
Two weeks later Lord Bessie and I headed over to New England Surgicare for my 1:00 check in. Strangely, upon our arrival, there were no further directions or instructions to indicate where I should be. The registration/security desk was noticeably vacant and the directory was no help at all. I called my friends at Dr. Robinson’s but they really had no idea considering they sent me to the third floor where all of the maternity and pediatric offices were. (It’s all water weight, I swear.) Eventually, the guy returned to his reception desk and pointed us in the right direction. But really, where was he? In retrospect, I think I saw him chatting up someone on the couches to the right of the entrance. Shouldn’t he have had an eye on the door? Perhaps watching for any lost and lingering types? Wasn’t my name on some VIP list?
On the second floor, I was immediately checked in, paid my $250 deductible and provided a copy of my Healthcare Proxy. Am I the only one curious about what exactly was going to go so wrong that my Healthcare Proxy would come into play? Dr. Rob slips, throws the scalpel in the air and it slices my jugular? A faulty IV ODs me? The bright lights in the operating room burn through my skin and damage my internal organs? Disturbing. However, Lord Bessie retains all these decision-making rights, so no matter the freak scenario, they would have had their answer pretty quickly.
While LB waited, I was then brought to another area where my vitals were taken and I was given my gorgeous matching johnny wear and rubber-bottomed socks. Hot. Nurse Julie was very engaging and apologized for the cold temps. I assured her of my thermal-tude, but she was sure I’d need the two folded blankets left for that purpose. I kind of cuddled one – it was the best I could do. Sue took one look at my arms and decided it would be more appropriate to wait for the anesthesiologist. She told me I could expect a visit from him, from the physical therapist and Dr. Rob himself. It was like my own personalized A Christmas Carol.
Fortunately, while I awaited my visitors, LB was allowed to sit with me. Thank goodness, because then she was privy to the accolades I began to receive from Nurse Julie and her friend Nurse Kay. As I passed by them to use the bathroom, Kay complimented my “cute glasses” and Sue responded with “all of her is cute”. These are real quotes. I can only assume they must get some real boring types around there.
My first visitor was Simon Baker, playing the part of my physical therapist. His role was to evaluate my crutch-wielding skills. I’m pretty good. I mean, consider the list at the beginning of this post. Plus, I would think it’s somewhat telling that I brought my own crutches. Anyway, I passed with flying colors and heard further compliments between Simon and Sue. It takes very little, I guess, to impress the medical community, patient-wise.
Next, Kay noted that my IV hadn’t been started and decided to take a stab at it. Multiple stabs, in fact. Bless her heart, she was really trying, but it was supremely uncomfortable for me. In the middle of her attempts, Bob the anesthesiologist showed up to explain the drowsy plan ahead of me. He also gently suggested to Kay that she allow him to handle the IV sitch later. Upon her exit, he took a look at my arms and was undeterred by the deep veins. I loved his confidence.
Finally, Dr. Rob stopped in to draw a line on my foot (very technical) and make sure all my questions had been answered. I said, “Nope. Sounds pretty cut and dry. Literally.” Shut up. He laughed! Then, he left and a few minutes later, the surgical nurse came to get me. Once again, I was warned of low temperatures in the operating room as she reached to grab more blankets for me. One of my johnnies was then removed and I laid back on the operating table. Immediately, my right hand was grabbed for the IV and the inevitable sedative to put me in a state of “twilight”. The last thing I remember is Bob placing the oxygen mask over my mouth and pulling out a syringe full of sleepy juice.
Next thing I knew, someone was calling my name and putting me into a rolling easy chair. It was as if no time had passed. Weirdest sensation. Plus, I was immediately wide awake and in the best mood. Nurse Sue handled my recovery and brought me crackers and ginger ale and went to get LB. Then Simon Baker arrived to watch me use the crutches. LB heard him say that I was the best/easiest patient with the crutches. Honestly, I don’t know what I was doing to impress these people, but I could do no wrong. Sue reviewed all of my post op instructions with me, fitted me with a boot and had me get dressed. Then, she sent LB to get the car and called for another nurse with a wheelchair transport. In parting, she told me what a great patient I was and how pleased she was to meet me and my sister. The best way to end her day or something. (I’m not making this stuff up.)
In the recovery room.
Now I’ve been home recuperating for a few days, and I’ve barely needed any meds. The first day and a half, I took the Advil to manage swelling, and one dose of the codeine when I felt the local anesthetic wearing off, but since then, nothing. I just sit here, foot raised and iced, and heal. It’s not like being on vacation, and I’m definitely going a little bit stir crazy, but all things considered, this hasn’t been a bad experience. So maybe the tide is turning, and like Christy, I now have an ally in the former nemesis that was my left foot.
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