CT scan or CAT scan?!?

   My doctor is running 65+ min behind, not that I'm counting.l, and it's pissing me off. This is exactly what cell phones are for.

   The good news is I'm back in the tiny room now, and my CT scan shows that there's a kitty face inside my skull. I suspected that all along... Do you see it?? I can't not see it.

   I'm here to find out if I can continue scuba diving and stop getting horrible ear infections all the time. He's going to tell me I need surgery, which is no bueno...

Bad Surgery + Bad Typography

   I am looking forward to not being able to park here anymore. Another frustrating post-op appointment in which I sit there and writhe in pain as the surgeon presses my ankle to see if he can permanently incapacitate me, and simultaneously scratches his head because he has no f'ing idea why it still hurts.
   My other pain is from what must surely be the worst kerning job in the world. Could you seriously not get those P's and A's any closer together? Is that A allergic to that T or something?? Ouch!!!

Post-Op Surprise

   You know that old Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder", where the woman gets plastic surgery, only to wake up to find out it was a horrible failure? Now you know how my day went. I had my post-op appointment this morning. It started with the nurse removing my stitches, which was unpleasant and stomach-churning, but not nearly as painful as I feared.
   The rest of the appointment, not so good. The surgeon came in, picked up my foot, and used his thumb to press—hard—into the precise spot where I have had the pain for the last 25 years. And it was so excruciatingly painful that I nearly lept off the table and through the roof. I told him that the location & intensity was EXACTLY the same as before. And it clearly wasn't from the surgery itself... he had cut in from a different angle; the incision was not over this spot.
   His response? "Hmm. That should have worked. I'm not sure why you still have pain... Well, let's see you back in two weeks and see how you are."
   I was dumbfounded. This from the guy who talked me into surgery by telling me he had COMPLETE confidence that this would CERTAINLY clear up the problem and alleviate the pain for good. I sure wish I had recorded our original conversation. He said the pain would be gone. He never said anything like "...but there's always a chance that..." or did anything to prepare me for the possibility that this might not work.
   And for his false confidence, I get to wear a boot for a month, doing none of my usual fun activities and losing all my conditioning. Probably missing the four upcoming races I've signed up for in the next two months, which I've really been looking forward to. I can't go Scuba diving on Saturday or rock climbing on Sunday with my friends. Hell, I can barely walk! All for nothing. I might as well have had him implant a third eye on my forehead. That would have been much more useful and way cooler.

from "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?"

If there is a positive to this... I'm not seeing it.

   But I will say that I work with a great group of people. When Amy heard my news, she did this great drawing for me and presented me with a trio of tarts: lemon, cherry, and chocolate.

Fun with Surgery

   I was just talking with Joni about my surgery experience and it made me remember a couple of things that happened. We've all heard horror stories where a doctor has operated on the wrong limb; and apparently they've implemented some clever ways to prevent this mistake. When the nurse first brought me back, she asked me several times which ankle required surgery. Then she sat me on a gurney and handed me a permanent marker. She told me to write my initials on the foot that they would be operating on. Once I had marked my "JR" on my right foot, she wrapped black and yellow tape around my left leg that said, "DO NOT OPERATE".
   We also talked about the vasovagal episode I had, and about the possible causes. Nervousness is an obvious one, but honestly I was SO excited and looking forward to having this surgery done, hoping it would alleviate my pain. I didn't feel nervous that day—I felt hopeful. As we talked through it, though, I realized that for me it was probably mistrust of that nurse, who would be caring for me. One of the first things she said to me that day was, "So you don't have any allergies..." and I immediately became worried that no one had bothered to read all the information that I had carefully gathered—at their request. I had submitted all my allergy and medication information days earlier, and even followed up with the receptionist to make sure they had received it, and she and I went over it together in excruciating detail. When I responded with, "No—I have a LOT of allergies! Did you not receive the information I provided?"  she seemed irritated and just said, "It's probably here in your folder."
   Given that I didn't trust her (and I think, for very good reason!), I think it's reasonable to think that having her care for me made me nervous, hence my involuntary reaction to the IV and anesthetic. The surgicenter sent a survey to me yesterday, asking about all aspects of my experience. I read through it, and waited several hours to fill it out, wanting to provide a true and thoughtful response. My feedback was glowing overall, but I was very honest about my thoughts on that nurse, how I felt she treated me, and how I didn't appreciate the snarky comments about me and eye-rolling she did when talking to Kelly. I hope that the surgicenter will address this with her and deal with it appropriately. My name was on the survey, so time will tell!

Rear Window

Aki helps me keep my foot elevated.

Taylor isn't really helping much at all.

Gypsy is ready in case I need chest compression. 

 

I feel like Jimmy Stewart in "Rear Window", except all I can see is cat.

The birds have been very active outside. Glad I filled the feeders on Tuesday!

 

So far, no murdering out there. Update later.

Hangin' on the Couch

   I am a highly impatient patient, & am terribly bored after these first three days of lying around. Tired of the pain, ready to be back in my feet and running around again. Am I healed yet???

My caretakers today: Brett, Gyp, & Ak.

Miles to go before I sleep

   There's a commercial running on TV now (for Jeep) that features this beloved poem. It has always been a favorite of mine, as it concisely describes the beauty of winter and appreciate for the quiet of the season. This year, however, we've had less than an inch of snow in KC so far, and therefore have had no snowy hiking opportunities. (It has been in the 60s again all this week!)

   So I guess the one thing I can currently relate to the poem is the feeling of eery quiet brought on by the Percoset—feeling deeply alone when it dulls my senses and forces me to lie still to avoid the intense nausea. Miles to go before I sleep, indeed! The last two nights have been tougher than I ever imagined; I wish the surgeon wouldn't have downplayed the surgery & recovery time when we first met, setting me up for false expectations. But I am sure I'm on the mend... and will be glad to arrive!

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.


He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

— Robert Frost

Recovery...

   Well, I came out of surgery just fine... Going in turned out to be the tough part. I disliked the main nurse almost immediately. She was curt and abrasive, which I wasn't in the mood for, considering that this was my first surgery, and that my life was in this staff's hands. I tried to be as nice & sweet as possible in response to her. I donned the gown, settled in on the gurney, and the nurse inserted the IV. No big deal. Until...
   I had a really intense vasovagal reaction a few minutes later. Apparently I went white as a sheet as my blood pressure dropped dramatically, causing intense dizziness, nausea, and visual disturbances (not to mention a lot of beeping from the machine). Judging from the level of freaking out from the three nurses that I heard before I passed out, I knew it was not good. They injected me a couple of times (ephedrine, if I remember correctly?) to bring me back & get me stabilized. This was perhaps the single most scary experience I've had in my life. I honestly thought that I was going to die.
   After what felt like eons, they got my blood pressure back up and I returned to normal, with a residual splitting headache. I don't remember them putting me back on the meds to knock me out, or taking me back to surgery. According to Kelly, who consulted with the surgeon while I was recovering, the cyst was larger and much deeper than anticipated. He had difficulty getting to it, and he suspects I'll be in more pain than initially projected because of this. The procedure took a full two hours, but it went well. 
   I woke up in the same room, same gurney, with the same pushy nurse at my side. I was barely coming to, and she was forcefully getting me dressed and sitting me up. I was EXTREMELY nauseated and dizzy—the whole room was spinning, and I could barely hold my head up. My body might as well have been a wet noodle. I kept telling her that I was going to throw up and I needed to lie down, and she kept physically forcing me to sit up. She even brought in the other two other nurses as reinforcements. I felt surprisingly lucid, and at one point I said, "I don't understand why no one is listening to me—I am extremely dizzy and I need to lie down for a minute so I won't get sick!" And she responded by forcing me to my feet and then into a wheelchair and—literally—dragging me in to Kelly's car. Seriously? You can't let me sit for a few minutes?? Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs to be on some meds.

The boys are taking good care of me!  :)

   I guess if that's the worst of it, then I can be grateful for that. Kelly brought me home, picked up my pain meds at the pharmacy, and made sure I was comfortable. Thank goodness for good friends!
   The rest of the evening I continued to feel strangely alert, without any of the zombielike symptoms I anticipated from the anesthetic. I relaxed on the couch, iced my ankle, ate a big dinner, and took my first dose of painkillers after seven hours. I would assume that the worst is yet to come in terms of pain management, but I am so relieved to have the surgery behind me, and SO EXCITED to have the potential for a pain-free ankle ahead of me!

T-Minus 13 hours to Surgery!

   In preparation for my ankle surgery tomorrow, I came home from work tonight and cooked for nearly three hours. I went grocery shopping on Sunday, and loaded up my fridge. And now I have a fridgeful of healthy & yummy prepared food, in case I'm not feeling up to cooking over the next few days. Homemade crab cakes, soup, salad, and a few supplements from Trader Joe's kitchen.
   Tonight's dinner combination was admittedly odd, but everything sounded so good that I wanted to try it all at once. It was still 55+ degrees when I got home, so I went outside and grilled a few huge pork steaks, with sweet & spicy Thai chili sauce. It goes great with roasted apples, mango and red onion. And I tried a new recipe, cauliflower "mac and cheese", which is much healthier than the pasta version of the dish. It didn't disappoint!
   Since I am not allowed to eat or drink *anything* after midnight, I'm facing a long 11+ hours before the procedure. So my plan is to stuff myself right up until midnight so maybe I won't feel so hungry. Hope it works.
   In any case, I have so much food in my fridge & freezer that anyone who saw it would think a family of twelve lived here. Nope, just one very tiny, very hungry person! :)

Dear Lord, please give me a friggin' BREAK!

   Gypsy seemed to be improving since her teeth were extracted last Friday morning. Little by little, she has started eating again, to my relief. And then about 30 minutes ago, while she was contentedly snoozing and purring on my lap, I noticed something very strange. As I rubbed her neck, it felt like her skin was loose, with air beneath it. It felt crinkly like a paper bag, and I can literally hear it crinkling. I've never heard of anything like it, so I called my vet to leave a message, letting them know I plan to stop by first thing in the morning.
   As I continued rubbing her (and she continued to purr... she didn't seem upset or in pain), I began to worry that this might be something more serious, and called the emergency vet. I knew they'd be reluctant to discuss her condition over the phone, and I had to talk them into letting me speak with a vet tech. Finally, the receptionist acquiesced, and I spoke with Julie.
   Julie said it sounded strange, and the only thing she'd heard of like it would be subcutaneous emphysema, in which the trachea is torn during a procedure, allowing air to leak under the skin. She didn't think this was likely since it has been nearly a week since the extraction, but after we hung up, I got more suspicious. I think Julie might have been exactly right!
   So now I'm here trying to make a decision: since Gypsy is acting normal, do I try to hold out 'til tomorrow morning? Or rush her to the e-vet now? I'm banking on the former, mostly because I have little left in the bank from the 3 trips to the e-vet I've already made this year, for other pets. If she seems in pain or starts struggling in any way, I'll be in the car in a heartbeat. But I'm holding out hope for the time being...

GREAT NEWS!!!

   Thanks to many very generous donations, the surgeries for the 3 Shiba puppies that I helped foster have been PAID! What a relief. These girls had a rough start in life—one pup needed one knee surgery, and two of them needed two surgeries! But Skeeter & Scooter have now been adopted and are expected to make a full recovery, and the last one, Zoe, will be adopted soon, I'm sure. I think my pathetically sweet photos of the puppies must have done the trick.

   Speaking of "pathetically sweet photos", I could sure use a good home for Raven, so if you know anyone...

Poor Pitiful Puppies

   After the race, Taylor and I headed to Crest to pick up my lil' Scooter, recovering from yesterday's knee surgery. She was not the doped-up, listless pup that I thought she'd be... she was perky, excited to see me, and ready to go—despite the fact that her cast is as big as she is. #@$%*!! I have to keep her quiet & confined for at least 6 weeks, and she'll need a full 3-4 month recovery before her second surgery. That's a long time to keep a 7-month old from re-injuring her leg! Good thing she's cute enough to be worth the effort, as are her sisters, who had their surgeries on Thursday.
   How pathetic are these girls? VERY, I hope, because we need to convince people to help us raise $3000 to cover their vet bills, so that they can all go to loving new homes debt-free! If you can help, please contact us through the MSIR website.

Sore, but still happy!

Zoey (formerly Piggy) looking smart in her super cone

Poor Zoey

Skeeter the brat won't keep her cast on; chewed it off despite the cone!

   I'm thinking we should just go for the full poodle cut on all 3 of them, don't you? Why stop at the legs?