Hi,
So it's almost been a week. I'm still miserable. The procedures I had done at the hospital (as read to me) were as follows: Austin Osteotomy, and Osteotomy of the fifth metatarsal (same foot). An osteotomy literally translates as "incision of the bone," nothing more. (I took a medical terminology class at UConn). I think a very good idea of what actually occurred comes from this site: http://www.dmgpodiatry.com. Here are the two videos that probably match what I had done specifically:
http://www.dmgpodiatry.com/animated-video-tailors-bunion-correction.htm
http://www.dmgpodiatry.com/animated-video-austin-bunionectomy-single-screw.htm
I cannot put weight on my foot, even though I was told my foot is "weight-bearing" immediately following surgery. I have tried, trust me. It's too painful. I'm convinced that I have a couple bones that are broken. Standard healing time for broken bones is six weeks.
The morning of the surgery, I had physical therapy. I was rear-ended by an old man in a big, red, SUV who - according to the police report - was looking at a dead turkey on the side of the road while I was stopped in traffic ahead of him. When he looked-up, he didn't have time to stop. Yay for so much fun. I have physical therapy near my boyfriend's.
My boyfriend met me that morning after my PT appointment and we both drove to the hospital. I was a little late. We checked-in at about 9:10am instead of 8:45, but I was quickly taken into a room, kind-of round in shape with lots of smaller rooms filled with patients. You could see all of them in their rooms; they were all open. This made me a little uncomfortable; I am a germaphobe.
Anyway, I was told to change - that I could leave my underwear on. I waxed the night before. I wore little booty shorts as underwear :) I put my things - rainboots, and clothes in plastic bags that were kept under my bed the entire duration of my stay. Jerry, my boyfriend, was allowed to stay with me the entire time, except while I was in the OR and en route there and back. There was a small TV in my room, and we watched bits of Ratatouille while waiting for things to happen.
I was very nervous, but things started right away. My first nurse, Christina, was about my age. She administered my IV with fluids. She used lidocaine to numb me first, thankfully. The anesthesiologist came in also. He kept saying how young I was, and wanted me to have general anesthesia, but I refused. I know they prefer this because you do not need to be monitored by an anesthesiologist if you are put-under for the duration, but I like being more aware of what's going on, not to mention that my podiatrist told me I'd have twilight sedation, which is what I wanted. This anesthesiologist was very old. I mean like 70+. I signed his forms. He told me that I should have the IV in my hand, and I pulled it away from him and said, "NO WAY!" Everyone was laughing, but there was no way I was going to let that happen. Once you have an IV in your hand, and you have another surgery, you cannot have an IV anywhere else. I wanted it in my elbow-crease, but I was told that this wasn't a good idea because I could bend it during surgery. So Christina tried the straight part of my lower arm. I didn't feel the IV go in b/c of the lidocaine. But, I told her, I have small veins and asked for a children's IV. As soon as the straw went in, my vein collapsed. Immediately, I started to bruise. It's still pretty ugly. She decided to use the smallest straw with the next try (don't know why she didn't do this in the first place), and put it in my elbow crease. It worked, thankfully. She told the doctors she was sorry she put it there, but explained why it was easier that way. So, IV with fluids was in. My podiatrist was walking around aimlessly for a bit in the circle area. Eventually, he found me, read-through some forms, asked me about anesthesia-talk, met Jerry, marked my foot, and that was it. A new, younger anesthesiologist came in. And another nurse came in to meet my podiatrist - the OR nurse. She was nice too. Everyone just kept talking about Thanksgiving. I started to wonder what they would talk about if it wasn't a couple days beforehand. Someone went to go ask the podiatrist about an antibiotic, since he didn't request one, and the anesthesiologist said he was going to put my sleepy meds in. That was it. Jerry said goodbye, held my hand, gave me a kiss, and that was it. He went home to watch Caesar. They wheeled me down some halls, and said to tell them when I felt sleepy. I said I felt funny, and started laughing uncontrollably. We got into the OR, and they asked me to move from one bed to another. It was a little stiffer than the first. The anesthesiologist kept talking about Turkey and food, and I continued that conversation. I know I slept for some parts, but I actually remember waking several times, and talking a lot too. I kept asking to "see," since they had that curtain up like when you go for a Cesarian. I'm not very queasy, especially when it comes to medical stuff, so I really wanted to see. They wouldn't let me. The music was just a radio, on a pop station. My podiatrist barely spoke. Nurses switched shifts (I guess for lunch) and I did not like the second nurse. When I started to pull at the sheet so I could see again, she said, "Do you remember what the anesthesiologist told you about that?" And I, like a robot, replied "To prevent infection." Of course looking at what was going on has nothing to do with infections, but it is what he told me at the beginning when I first tried to look. I'm sure they put more meds in after that, because I went back to sleep. I woke up again when I was being wheeled back into the first room with the circle of other patients. I asked where Jerry was, and he came in seconds later. A couple other nurses were there, and my podiatrist was getting my shoe ready. The anesthesiologist said bye, and Jerry asked if I remembered anything. He should have known better, though: My memory is impeccable, drugged-up or not. I told him about the radio, and the mean nurse, and the anesthesiologist, and wanting to see, etc. My podiatrist didn't say anything. He only said, "Wow, you really do have small feet." He had to make a cut in my shoe. He reminded me not to go anywhere without it. And he told me to "sponge" instead of shower. I got annoyed at that point because what did I buy that blue boot for??? But, I didn't say anything. I couldn't feel anything in my foot at all. I had to pee, and the post-op nurse took me to the bathroom in a wheelchair. I hated this. I wanted her to take the IV out and to let me go home, but she was nice about it. I also hated not covering the toilet seat with toilet paper or hovering, but I felt weird because she was there. She came back in when I was done and wheeled me back. I had already gotten dressed, but she took my IV out, gross! I put my one rainboot on, and another nurse came to wheel me down. Jerry brought his car to the door, and carried me into the backseat. Then he carried me into his room. I took my first demerol with a phenergan about an hour after I was home. I was tired, and hungry. I don't remember if we ate, though. My foot was completely numb the entire night and into the next morning. I could feel my toes if I touched them, but that was all. Keeping my foot elevated, and being wrapped as tightly as it was, also kept it numb. I did ice it a lot.
The next day, I realized I was running-out of demerol, so I called my podiatrist to explain that I needed more. He said we'd have to pick-up a written script for it because it's a controlled narcotic. So we drove to his Enfield office and then to my mom's. The ride was uncomfortable and long. We got to my mom's around 7:30. Caesar was so happy! He loves to see "Nana." Jerry was so sweet, and left about an hour later for his grandmother's, who lives about an hour south of my mom. He called just before ten to say he got there.
Traffic did get nasty on the Pike near Worcester, so I told Jerry to take Route 20, which is where we found a CVS that actually had all three scripts - demerol, phenergan, and vicodin. Jerry didn't remember how to get to my mom's, so I stayed awake, even though we both have GPS in our phones. Don't ask why I didn't mention this at the time....
So, to wrap-up, things haven't been fun these last few days. I cannot walk on my foot. I use a desk chair with wheels to get around. I can hop on my right foot well now, though - that is without my left foot throbbing. I do keep my left foot elevated, and I did ice for the first three days constantly. Elevating it, actually irritates it sometimes because it starts to get pins and needles.
The other freaky side-effect is, I have serious trouble reading regular and even sometimes large print! My mom gave me her +2.0 reading glasses and they're fabulous! I did not, however, think that I'd start needing glasses because of foot surgery! I will discuss this with the podiatrist tomorrow, among other things. I really need to be able to walk, and I do think I'll be able to drive tomorrow. My right side is completely fine, and I don't think I need my left foot for anything while driving. I'm going to try anywhere. Jerry said my car is still in the hospital parking lot; he drove by on his way back tonight. I'm happy to be leaving my mom's. She's pretty sick of having to watch Caesar. She's the kind of person that has really enjoyed not doing anything with her time since her kids are grown (my younger sibling is almost 21) and she's been aS AHM for many, many years. She kind-of feels entitled to her life the way it is, and gets irritated if anything or anyone makes it deviate. She's right, though: what I do should not require her to alter her life, but she isn't exactly the most typical 52 year old parent either.... I say thank-you for everything, but I will always feel like I can't ever ask her for anything, especially now that I'm an adult. She kind of feels like she's done her job. Like I said, she feels entitled to the life she lives now, so what I do is my problem and I really can't depend on her for much besides money - yes, I am one of those spoiled "children" whose mom still pays for everything, since I'm not working and live out of state for school. So I guess it's a trade-off: my mom pays for everything, but I can't depend on her for any other support whatsoever. I'm sure a lot of 25 year olds would take this option, but it really sucks when you're a GIRL and would like your mom to be there if/when you have a family of your own. Did you know most women are grandmothers at 49? Average age of first birth for a woman is 24. My mom has actually said, "No grandchildren before I'm 65." I guess this is okay, though, because I don't want kids. I never have. But, I do have Caesar, and he's pretty damn close. And my mom's not 65.
Anyway, my foot is constantly irritated. I really want to walk. I want to take Caesar out. I want to go home. Tomorrow, when my mom cares for Caesar while I go to my appointment, I wonder what she's going to think of my boyfriend's place. He rents a room in a house. We were undergrads with his landlord, who I don't care for. The place is kinda yucky. I hope she just doesn't start cleaning.... Even in my "luxury apartment," built three years ago that I keep immaculately clean, she finds something to clean.
I was asked if I wanted crutches, and I said yes, but my podiatrist said no because since I've never used them before, I'd need training and he was worried I'd trip and make my foot worse.
I also did receive a pre-op history call from the hospital about a week beforehand. She never mentioned anything about what to/to not wear, nor anything about hair removal. The reminder call the day before surgery was only to remind me not to bring valuables and to be there at 8:45am.
Right now, I'd like to remove my foot. I'd take a prosthetic at this point.
~Michelle
I'll post photos tomorrow.
