Surgery stories
Well, as all of you know, I recently had knee surgery. I had an accident a LONG time ago, back when I was 20 on a dirtbike. For those of you who do not know me, I will give you a description of the events that led up to my now bed ridden state. For those of you who already know, you can skip it.
Back when I was young and impulsive (still alittle impulsive, just not so young anymore) I had a best friend. His name was Tom. He and his brother were daredevils of the most extreme kind, and I followed blindly behind. Tom had been teaching me to ride dirtbikes. I came across an opportunity to purchase one of my own, so, wanting to be truly part of the "daredevils", I jumped at the chance and bought the bike. I rode every chance I could get. I was 20, and my parents had just moved to Long Island, and I had stubbornly stayed because I "needed my space" and "was an adult" and "could handle it". Well, one morning began like any other. I went to my friend Tom's house to watch Bugs Bunny and then get out to ride our bikes. We got moving and were in the woods behind his house. We were riding along and came upon a hill. Now, I had always been nervous about hills, and had only tackled the smallest of them. Tom felt that I was ready to do it. He gave me some last minute tips. "When you are ready to go, just do it. Whatever you do, DO NOT put your feet on the ground." Ok. I could do this. I watched as he easily manuvered the hill. He stood at the bottom, looking up at me. "Ok, on 3, I thought. One...two...THREE!" I started down the hill! "This is a piece of cake!"What had I been scared of? Just then, the front tire of my bike wobbled alittle, and I did what instinct told me to do, and Tom had told me never to do, I put my feet down. My front tire hit a log under a bunch of wet leaves, and spun my handle bars to the left. Since I had put my feet down, the handle bar caught be just below the knee of my left leg. The next thing I remember is Tom sitting behind me, holding me up. I still had my helmet on, so had no idea of what my injuries were. I felt like I was standing in a hole and reached down to touch the ground. I screamed out to Tom that something was in the hole and was scratching at my leg. He was trying to calm me and took my helmet off. To my horror, I saw that I was not standing in a hole with an animal attacking me, but my leg was bent straight forward in the shape of an L and the animal scratching me was me reaching down and touching my own leg. I think I passed out for a bit, because the next thing that I remember was Tom trying to figure out how he was going to get help. (There were no cell phones then) We both knew that he was going to have to leave me there and ride out for help. Just then, God sent a savior in the form of another of our dirtbiking group, our friend Todd. He had stopped by Tom's house and Tom's mom had told him we were somewhere in the woods riding, so he came to join us. He pulled up and freaked out. He raced back to Tom's house (we were about a mile into the woods) and ran in to call an ambulance. He kept misdialing, and Tom's mom ended up making the call. A while later, our local volunteer ambulance came trudging through the woods(they could only get as close a the edge of the treeline)and carried me out on a stretcher. To this day, I think of those guys and wish I could conact and thank them again. I was taken to the closest ER and the reduced my leg right there. (meaning they put several nurses at my head and torso, and the doctor grabbed my foot and pulled, placing the bone back where it belonged.
Fast froward 16 years... present day. I have been plagued with this injury ever since. Every year, I slip on the ice, and re-injure my knee. I limp around till it feels better, and move on. Well, I am now 36 years old. I slipped again this year. Each year it takes alittle longer to heal from my stupidity. I finally made the decision to get it taken care of. I was refered to a surgeon who specialized in knee surgery, and has done the procedures that I needed, before. I was to have a total ACL and PCL ligament replacement. They could not repair what I had, as there was really nothing to repair. I was told that it would be about a 6 hour surgery and a 2 night stay in the hospital. A few weeks of total non weight bearing (crutches and wheelchair) and 6 months to a year of rehab after that. I went in on Monday, April 24, 2006. I was in surgery for 9 hours, and they replaced 3 ligaments instead of 2, as the damage was worse than they thought. I end up staying in the hospital for 5 days, to make sure all was ok, and the pain was controlled. The topper of this story is when I finally got the feeling back in my left leg, (they had placed a nerve block, so my leg was numb for 2 days) I found that the pain was not in my leg, but in the first toe, next to my big toe. I finally got someone to pay attention and order an xray of my toe, because something just wasn't right. Turns out that during the surgery, someone, and no-one is fessing up, broke my toe. The surgeon came in on Friday, the day I was to get sprung from the joint, and appologized profusely and also stated that he had no answers for what could have happened. He took responsibilty for the event happening, just could not answer how. I am back home now, and my wonderful husband and children are taking exellent care of me. My mother is lined up for next weeks shift of helpers, and she was a godsend in taking care of the house and kids while my husband was up with me on surgery day and the day that he came to visit me. I sit here typing this and strapped to the cold therapy machine for my knee. It is going to be a long summer
Back when I was young and impulsive (still alittle impulsive, just not so young anymore) I had a best friend. His name was Tom. He and his brother were daredevils of the most extreme kind, and I followed blindly behind. Tom had been teaching me to ride dirtbikes. I came across an opportunity to purchase one of my own, so, wanting to be truly part of the "daredevils", I jumped at the chance and bought the bike. I rode every chance I could get. I was 20, and my parents had just moved to Long Island, and I had stubbornly stayed because I "needed my space" and "was an adult" and "could handle it". Well, one morning began like any other. I went to my friend Tom's house to watch Bugs Bunny and then get out to ride our bikes. We got moving and were in the woods behind his house. We were riding along and came upon a hill. Now, I had always been nervous about hills, and had only tackled the smallest of them. Tom felt that I was ready to do it. He gave me some last minute tips. "When you are ready to go, just do it. Whatever you do, DO NOT put your feet on the ground." Ok. I could do this. I watched as he easily manuvered the hill. He stood at the bottom, looking up at me. "Ok, on 3, I thought. One...two...THREE!" I started down the hill! "This is a piece of cake!"What had I been scared of? Just then, the front tire of my bike wobbled alittle, and I did what instinct told me to do, and Tom had told me never to do, I put my feet down. My front tire hit a log under a bunch of wet leaves, and spun my handle bars to the left. Since I had put my feet down, the handle bar caught be just below the knee of my left leg. The next thing I remember is Tom sitting behind me, holding me up. I still had my helmet on, so had no idea of what my injuries were. I felt like I was standing in a hole and reached down to touch the ground. I screamed out to Tom that something was in the hole and was scratching at my leg. He was trying to calm me and took my helmet off. To my horror, I saw that I was not standing in a hole with an animal attacking me, but my leg was bent straight forward in the shape of an L and the animal scratching me was me reaching down and touching my own leg. I think I passed out for a bit, because the next thing that I remember was Tom trying to figure out how he was going to get help. (There were no cell phones then) We both knew that he was going to have to leave me there and ride out for help. Just then, God sent a savior in the form of another of our dirtbiking group, our friend Todd. He had stopped by Tom's house and Tom's mom had told him we were somewhere in the woods riding, so he came to join us. He pulled up and freaked out. He raced back to Tom's house (we were about a mile into the woods) and ran in to call an ambulance. He kept misdialing, and Tom's mom ended up making the call. A while later, our local volunteer ambulance came trudging through the woods(they could only get as close a the edge of the treeline)and carried me out on a stretcher. To this day, I think of those guys and wish I could conact and thank them again. I was taken to the closest ER and the reduced my leg right there. (meaning they put several nurses at my head and torso, and the doctor grabbed my foot and pulled, placing the bone back where it belonged.
Fast froward 16 years... present day. I have been plagued with this injury ever since. Every year, I slip on the ice, and re-injure my knee. I limp around till it feels better, and move on. Well, I am now 36 years old. I slipped again this year. Each year it takes alittle longer to heal from my stupidity. I finally made the decision to get it taken care of. I was refered to a surgeon who specialized in knee surgery, and has done the procedures that I needed, before. I was to have a total ACL and PCL ligament replacement. They could not repair what I had, as there was really nothing to repair. I was told that it would be about a 6 hour surgery and a 2 night stay in the hospital. A few weeks of total non weight bearing (crutches and wheelchair) and 6 months to a year of rehab after that. I went in on Monday, April 24, 2006. I was in surgery for 9 hours, and they replaced 3 ligaments instead of 2, as the damage was worse than they thought. I end up staying in the hospital for 5 days, to make sure all was ok, and the pain was controlled. The topper of this story is when I finally got the feeling back in my left leg, (they had placed a nerve block, so my leg was numb for 2 days) I found that the pain was not in my leg, but in the first toe, next to my big toe. I finally got someone to pay attention and order an xray of my toe, because something just wasn't right. Turns out that during the surgery, someone, and no-one is fessing up, broke my toe. The surgeon came in on Friday, the day I was to get sprung from the joint, and appologized profusely and also stated that he had no answers for what could have happened. He took responsibilty for the event happening, just could not answer how. I am back home now, and my wonderful husband and children are taking exellent care of me. My mother is lined up for next weeks shift of helpers, and she was a godsend in taking care of the house and kids while my husband was up with me on surgery day and the day that he came to visit me. I sit here typing this and strapped to the cold therapy machine for my knee. It is going to be a long summer
posted by EHBeauty | 4:22 PM
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