ACL Surgery: Surgery Day & The Day After...

SURGERY DAY

I didn’t have surgery until 10:30 a.m. I wasn’t able to eat or drink past midnight, so I would’ve been super hungry if I wasn’t super nervous. My fiancé, his mom, and my granddad were with me at the hospital. We showed up ready to go… and two hours later I was heading to the operating table. I spent quite a long while sitting in the back talking with my fiancé about the whole situation and listening to the people in the other areas getting ready for surgery. It appears the lady next to me had a ton of medical issues. I was super nosey and kept listening to her talk about her medical issues. My doctor, the anesthesiologist and my nurses came to visit while I was waiting. I made the decision while I was back there to stay the night. My fiancé’s mom suggested if I could stay that I really should, so I decided that maybe I should when my doctor asked. I think she understood that this surgery was a bigger deal than I had realized.

I don’t remember anything about going back for surgery. My fiancé said my surgeon came out to speak with my family and told them that I had also torn my lateral meniscus as well as the ACL. He said he cleaned up below my kneecap too. It appears with all my dancing and running my knee was a little rough around the edges. When I awoke, my nurse was really awesome. She immediately began offering me something to drink and eat. She gave me some crackers and explained everything regarding my special little pain button. She kept telling me not to hesitate to press it. I didn’t realize at first why she was so encouraging about me pressing the button. It wasn’t until the extra meds from surgery started wearing off that I realized I really underestimated the amount of pain I was going to be in. This surgery was absolutely the most painful thing I’ve ever been through.

I was wheeled to my room where my family could come in. My mom met us up there and brought me cinnamon teddy grahams. I had attempted to eat saltines, but nothing was helping with the nausea. My mom also brought me a little pink bunny which Jon named Sir Hops A Lot.  I felt like death. No matter what I did, I couldn’t sleep. It didn’t help that the breathing machine kept beeping at me.

This entire afternoon and evening was a blur. I wish I could say that my nurses continued to be awesome, but it appears that the floor was highly understaffed.  I couldn’t stop throwing up. My machine that was monitoring my breathing kept going off every time I went to sleep. I kept asking for nausea medication and the nurse took about three hours to bring it. When she did bring it, she didn’t finish giving it to me. She left the remainder of it sitting in my IV half empty. The next nurse then made a comment about the syringe still being attached to my IV, then she left her syringe on the air conditioning unit. Every time the nurses changed, they would come in and say something about not having read the report yet so they couldn’t help me with anything. At one point my mom and fiancé went out to find the nurse and every light for each room was on. The nurse tried to walk by my room without stopping even though we had asked for the nausea medication 45 minutes before and she had yet to bring it. One of the nurses even said, “I’m usually a better nurse than this.”

Day 2

I awoke to the nurses actually being a little more attentive. Then they changed nurses. I thought there would be hope, but I thought wrong. Over the night, while I had finally gotten the nausea medication, I ate a lot of teddy grahams. I felt a lot better. They brought me breakfast which they sat at the end of my bed. I couldn’t even reach it… so after I tried to get to it for a while, I eventually used my good leg to pull it toward me.  I could reach enough to get a few bites of the eggs. Then I gave up because the nausea returned. The doctors came by to check on me. He said once I did some Physical Therapy and could walk a few steps I could go home.

Physical Therapy came by and things got way worse. Truthfully day two was the worst day and has been the absolute worst. Surgery was a cakewalk compared to day two. I could barely walk. I couldn’t get comfortable no matter how I adjusted the bed. My entire leg felt like it was on fire while also aching horribly especially the knee cap. I cried and whined. I felt like a complete failure. I ended up getting extremely sick. I threw up all the water I had drank and the few bites of breakfast. I think my Physical Therapist gave up because I simply couldn’t walk at this time. I was weak and dizzy from nausea and lack of food.

 Later on my law partners came to visit and brought me baby bites. A friend, who is a nurse at this same hospital, also came down to check on the situation. She was horrified by how I was being treated. She then witnessed it herself. She went out multiple times to check on my nausea medication again and again. My nurse (a new one) was once again nowhere to be found.  She also argued with me about taking the medication stating that it was probably still the anesthesia and not the pain medicine. When she showed up, she didn’t even tell me what she was giving me. She gave me a completely different nausea medication which my nurse friend pointed out.

After all of this, I attempted to eat some baby bites to get some energy to get out of the hospital. The Surgeon’s assistant came by to change my bandages. The second Physical Therapist came by. She was more patient, and I was no longer throwing up. I felt good enough to try walking. It was really hard stepping forward, but actually stepping on my leg wasn’t too bad. The pressure wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was really lifting my left leg to step forward that hurt the worst. She was very encouraging. She even stayed after to talk to me about her dogs. We exchanged funny dog stories and things seemed to be looking up for me. Since I could walk, they decided to discharge me. Though, my nurse kept disappearing so it took about four hours to finalize everything. Luckily, I had two different people from the hospital come talk to me about my care and I told both of them that I felt they were understaffed and that I completely understood that, but I received terrible care while I was there.

Once I got home, my fiancé and his mother helped me get in the bed. I took my meds, and slept off and on. Each time I had to go to the bathroom, my fiancé had to help me lift my leg to get off the bed. Once I was up I could use my crutches to walk to the bathroom.  I felt completely dependent on him. He truly is a wonderful person to spend his 30^th birthday waiting on me hand and foot without one single complaint. He’s a true prince charming! 

ACL Troubles: But I'm not a football player?

I am a reformed chubster. I exercise like crazy because my biggest fear in life is to gain weight and become who I used to be. Don't get me wrong. She wasn't bad. She was happy. She rarely noticed when she gained a pound. She was happy with her size most days. She wasn't self conscious anymore. She just wasn't the real me. The real me is about half that size, and wants to drop it like it's hot every day of her life. I want to go into the courtroom looking like Elle Woods and giving everyone "Elle" one Motion at a Time. I want to be fashionable, and basically the Disney Princess of lawyers. I want to spend every day working out whether it be running, hiking, or (most importantly) dancing.

My life was on track. I just finished the Disney Princess Half Marathon. I spent over a week at Disney planing our Dunham Disney Wedding. Our firm, Magic City Law, was getting new business practically every day. I was teaching Dance Trance part time and really loving my cardio wedding prep classes. I was losing weight and preparing to fit into the perfect dress. We decided to take our dogs for a hike at our favorite park, Red Mountain. About a mile in, our fat little black lab saw a critter. I ended up being pulled into the air. I landed hard and twisted my knee. I felt a pop. I knew it was bad immediately. I hit the ground screaming in pain. Normally I giggle and cry at the same time... sooo the screaming was a clue that we hit the big time injury here.

My fiance, bless his heart, stood there in disbelief. He then called the Park Ranger. The Park Ranger could not figure out where we were. I think he called us like eight times. When he finally got to our trail, he walked 10 feet in, looked at Jon and said he had to call the fire department. The fire department came out to where I was and had to carry me out. They also poked fun at the Park Ranger and said he could have handled it. I get to the entrance of the park and there are tons of firetrucks. I'm completely embarrassed. Little ol' me had caused one heck of a stir. The news blog, Al.com even came up to get the scoop. I refused to go to the Hospital because the last thing I wanted was to sit in pain for five hours while gun shot victims were wheeled in. Instead I went to make sure it wasn't broken at a walk in clinic. They gave zero cares about whether or not I could walk at first. No one offered me a closer chair. It was almost an hour of me hobbling that I even got offered a wheelchair.

On Monday I went to my Ortho. I went across town to get my MRI. At this point I wouldn't know until Wednesday whether or not I could dance again anytime soon. On Monday evening, one of my friends from DT, who also worked for my Ortho facebooked me. She then called and broke the news to me. I tore my ACL. I knew it was bad at that point. My first thought? I'm NOT a football player. I'm a dancer! I'm delicate, and fragile, and apparently broken. Broken was the best way to describe my reaction. I was heartbroken ten times over. After I told my friends at dance, my fiance, and my law partners, I felt horrid. I'm not going to lie. I cried a lot. I googled a lot. I cross referenced with Web MD so I knew exactly what my prognosis would be. I just hoped I was a little wrong.

Wearing my Princess Half shirt!

I cried it out a good bit and I went in the next day ready to schedule surgery and get this movin' along. I started going into planning mode, only slipping back into my poor pitiful me fits every so often. I planned surgery for the next week. I started working from bed. I found out what exercises I could do. I researched what to eat. I started looking up blogs to read. My fiance offered to meet me at the Y to do some upper-body strength and leg lifts. I Pinterested tons of exercises. I even looked up essential oils. I let everyone who wanted to tell me about their relatives who had this surgery, tell me everything they could think of, and give me well wishes. I tried to ignore the old men who said it was going to be awful, and accept the optimistic stories. My mom came down with my brother and they took me to get a surgery outfit to lift my spirits. They also got me an old lady shower chair which made me giggle.

Today is my surgery day. I'm terrified. I won't lie. They have to cut into my knee to get the goods to make my new ACL. The doc offered to use a cadaver but it gave me the heebeegeebees. I heard that my own graft will be stronger, but it'll hurt a bit. I want to be stronger. I want to run another half marathon. I want to fit into one sexy yet classy wedding dress. I want to teach dance again. I also would like to be able to walk up the stairs to my office, so I'm not associating my office life with my sweet, wonderful, soft, bed.

I'm sitting here looking at all the FB posts of well wishes, the texts, and the emails. I'm hugging my dogs. I'm writing this to keep my mind from spinning. I'm also hoping my journey might help someone else. I know when I read this blog which helped me a lot: http://fitblondeyogi.com/ blog. Cheers to my journey! Also, if anyone out there has any influence with Say Yes To The Dress... tell them this story is so much better than a bride who wants to wear cowboy boots.