The back of my foot was treated, cleaned and the plaster chips
removed, I could not even feel it at that point.
I was told that I'd require surgury and that it would be scheduled for the
morning, an unpleasant thought, but to keep my mind off of it, and the pain
that was still coursing through me, I was given a shot of Demerol.
That started out fairly well, the pain started to ebb away, but a
curious side effect started about half an hour later, I was alone in
the room, as everyone else had be ushered out to talk in the hallway,
and while I heard my mother screaming something at the nurses and doctors,
I began to twitch.
An extremely curious sensation, not exactly painful, but unsettling
nonetheless.
The nurses and doctors filed back into the room and informed me that
I could return the next morning for the impending surgury and ran down the
list of "do's and don't's" for me and began to leave.
Picture this, if you will.
I have a cast up to my left hip, from toes to ankle, it weighs about
50 pounds, my right knee is marked by several nice scratches and bruises,
my right temple has bled into my eye causing everything to have this,
slughtly reddish cast about it, I had a migrane, my leg hurt quite badly,
and I was beginning to twitch a little more definatively.
With just the leg cast on, how was I going to get myself into a cab,
let alone twice?
While they all argued about how this was going to happen, I began to
convulse, and I have no recollection for the next several hours, when it
wore off. I was told when I came out of it, that I was admitted on the
5th floor of the hospital, and that no, I could not have a glass of water,
I was to be "NPO" until the surgury. (No food or water by mouth, NOTHING
POST OP) I tried to make myself as comfortable as possible, which, under the
circumstances, was just not going to happen, my father hugged me carefully,
and told me he'd be back before the surgury in the morning, my mother said
the same, and they both left to return to their respective homes.
Sean stayed with me, and I spent the night feeling scared, horrified,
disgusted, nervous, you name it, my emotions were running the gamut.
I noted the IV pole soon after my parents left and followed it's snaking
curves back to my wrist, I gazed in fascination/horror at the part that
penetrated my skin and entered my body.
Six am came soon enough and I was wheeled down to surgury, I had no idea
what to expect, and I was extremely frightened.
My father showed up before I got taken to the surgury proper, and I was
given a pre-operative shot.
I was not too aware of what was going on around me after that point, but I
remember well being taken to the operating room.
It was a featureless room of greenish white tile, odd impliments, bright
lights and stainless steel.
I was left alone there, save for my thoughts, which were becoming more
fuzzy and confused as the minutes ticked past.
Time slowed, then quickened, and the pain in my leg became, not less
horrible to endure, but less attached to me, less ..mine.
The pain still existed, to be sure, but it no longer felt as if it were
mine, if that makes any sense whatsoever.
My vision blurred, my sense of balance and "self" unattached themselves
from me as well.
The berobed and masked surgons came into the room and started doing
arcane and strange things to the medical equipment that surrounded me
like a fleet of alien beings, all ready to probe, and drill, and slice
into me.
A cuff was placed on my arm and tightened, my arm was tied down and a
new IV line was attached to the needle, still attached, leechlike to my
forearm, then a mask was placed over my face, some little pings and
bleeps were heard faintly in the background as I was told, "Count back
from 100", and "This won't hurt a bit".
I began to count, "100....99...98....97..", and as I did, I began to feel
myself drifting towards the bright surgury lights overhead.
I had just reached "85" when they decided that I wasn't going to go "under"
without additional medications pumped into my system, and so, that's just
what they did.
A loud whooshing noise filled my ears and the ring of rainbows dancing
around the lights became brighter, they grew to fill my vision, and I
knew no more.
I wonder, in retrospect, if this is what death is like, the lights growing
brighter, the wind sound in your ears with the faint sounds of your heart
beating in the background as your eyesight fails you.
I awoke from the "almost death" feeling, not like sleeping at all, one
moment you're aware and awake, and the next, you're aware of..nothing.
I tried to stretch, and was instantly very sorry that I had made the
attempt.
My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sawdust, my leg was on fire,
and my whole body felt leaden and unable to move.
After trying to call out to someone, anyone who happened to be around,
a nurse sidled over to where I was lying and offered me a "glycerine"
swab, but only after I had begged her for a glass of water.
She left, and returned soon after with something that looked very much
like a large Q-tip, which she assured me would assuage my thirst.
She placed it on my tongue, and I was most sorry that she had.
The flavour and texture are indescribably awful, not the lemon flavouring
that I had been assured by the packet it was.
I tried to spit it out of my mouth, and found I was unable to even do
that, I was so very weak from the surgury.
I was left alone with my thoughts once more, them and that godsawful
glycerine swab, which after working around my mouth for a few moments, I
managed to remove from my mouth.
Drifting back into sleep, I wondered if I'd once more fall into that all
encompassing darkness that was somehow more, yet less then sleep, but
being so weary, and hurting so much, I didn't much care.
I was wakened by the sounds of people gathering around the gurney I was
lying on, and I opened my eyes to see my Father, Mother, and Sean, along
with a cluster of doctors talking quietly among themselves.
The doctors explained that I'd had a plate and pins drilled into the
tibia (the larger of the lower legbones) of my leg, and that it had gone
well. I sat up as quickly as possible, which under the conditions,
was none too fast, and flipped back the sheet covering my lower half.
All I saw was a mass of white bandages, no metal, no skin, just clean,
white bandages from my hip down to my toes.
Being somewhat relieved about this, I listened carefully as they
explained the sorts of exercise I'd have to be doing once the leg was
healed enough to be walked on, the cleaning of the site and fracture
blister, and how the pins and plate would be removed in a couple of
years time.
"Not so bad", I thought to myself, and having been checked over during
this explination, I was pronounced fit enough to be moved down to a
"regular" room.
My Father told me that he had to go, but that he'd be back later that
evening to check up on me, and then he left, with a hug and a promise to
visit often while I was in the hospital.
An orderly came next, the doctors left, and I was wheeled down the hall to
the elevator, my views of the travels were rather uninteresting however,
as I was flat on my back, and all I could see were the ceiling tiles and
lights passing by.
I was wheeled into a ward area, then left by the orderly, left to the
charge of the nurses on staff.
They took charge of me, and pushed the gurney to the room I'd be inhabiting
for the next couple of weeks.
My Mother and Sean were asked to wait outside.
I didn't know then what I know now.
When they ask the people who are with you to "wait outside", that
means that something unpleasant, and very likely painful is about to be
inflicted upon you.
I was told that I would be moved from my gurney to the bed in the room,
and to lie very still while they "did all of the work".
I closed my eyes, and waited.
The sheet under me was grasped and pulled taut, and I was tugged onto
the bed that looked remarkably like the gurney I had been resting on.
I was dropped onto the new bed and jostled into place while tears escaped
my eyes and foul words escaped my mouth.
Being just a few hours "post-op", I was in a great deal of pain before
this procedure, and after, was in a good deal more.
They left to procure the medications that would ease the screaming agonies
I was suffering, and Sean and my Mother were let back into the room.
They told me that they'd return the next day, as they needed their sleep,
having not gotten much the night before, and they left as well, at about
the same time the nurses returned with the injection.
My arm was bared, and the injection given, pouring into my arm like liquid
metal, burning all the way down to my wrist.
I began to twitch once more, but at least the pain was ceasing somewhat,
and I ceased to care about my surroundings, the uncontrollable twitching
and fell happily into unconsciousness
