And the jam is pumpin, look ahead the crowd is jumpin.
As I cranked up the volume on my computer at home, in some sort of angsty rebellion against being in my situation....I.... for some reason....could NOT STOP listening to this song.
It has nothing to do with my story, just something that stuck with me I guess.....Sometimes you gotta dance alone in your room to some 90's jams to really feel alright with the world.
It's about December 2012 by now, I am a 25 year old and recently unemployed (Because of upcoming surgery). I was living in an amazing house in Encino, CA with 3 super sweet roommates that were also awesome friends. As I research PVNS and my upcoming surgery, I try to psych myself up. Although the impending dooms-sayers clouded my thoughts with doubt and gloom, there was actually part of me that was pumped. Like, super pumped. The thought of living pain free was like some sick fantasy.
My Surgery was on the morning of January 2nd, 2013, HAPPY NEW YEAR, AMIRIGHT?! My very good friend and roommate drove me to the hospital. Not knowing really what to expect I had a strange feeling of loneliness, coupled with the satisfaction of being independent. At the time I was single, like...extremely single. We are talking 3 years into the experience of being single, single. I have to admit though, there was nothing I wanted more at the time then to know someone would be holding my hand when I woke up. Because of how specialized the treatment of for PVNS in Los Angeles under Kaiser, the hospital (and medical offices) I went to was in Baldwin Park, about 45 minutes/1 hour away from me at that time.
Before the surgery was interesting. You wait in a room with like 8 other people FOR EVER. And because you cant eat or drink anything, you experience this weird sleepy/hungry/scary/angry feeling. Once the nurse comes out you are all cattle-herded back into the surgery prep zone. An empty room with bed and curtains which soon the people you were just with populate. They then have you take your clothes off, put them in a bag, and put on the usual, run of the mill hospital garb.
here's what I remember:
Dope socks
Nice nurses
Nerves
Iodine - lots of it
IV Drip prep (since I have small veins, they prepped one one my wrist
(Shit sucked)
Next I remember getting prepped for anesthesia. An awesome nurse named Andrea. She had a rad fro and was gorgeous. She had a sass about her, not something you would expect from someone about to put you down. I asked if I could administer the syringe after if was connected to my IV catheter. And I did.
She asked to count back from 10.....I made it to 6.
Here is what I remember next (And the most)
Ever think of what it would be like to be a baby coming out of the womb and taking your first breath of air, and then feel the excruciating pain of just having your leg cut off? (Note: My leg was not cut off).
I basically came back into this world kicking and screaming. In fact, the way I remember it is waking up TO my screaming and quickly realizing how much pain I was in. I was not prepared for this, and neither were the nurses. In a haze, I was greeted by reassuring nurses telling me I was ok and the operation went well. Apparently I fussed and trashed so hard that I pulled my IV out, this was even MORE pain to endure.
Once they popped another one on me I got Morphine, lots of it. I remember still being in pain but passing out from induced sleepy time.
about 30 minutes go by....
I am screaming again. Hyperventilating.....Freaking out again. It's STILL is too much pain to handle. I had no idea. As I furiously hit the little button for more medicine over and over again, the nurse reassures me and says they cannot give me any more pain medication, I was already taking more then they usually give.
This happened a couple times until the surgeon showed up and asked me if I wanted a nerve block. Another doctor met with me and told me the perimeters and risks, and frankly - I could have cared less. The answer was yes, give it to me, GIVE IT TO ME NOW. And they did.
It was nuts, within minutes I had no feeling from the hip down on that leg. NOTHING. it was incredible. I was chillin'.
Here is how it looked once I was transferred to my room:
Sweet drain tube huh?
I spent the next 2 days in the hospital. Keep in mind, I COULD NOT GET UP (Fall risk bracelet from the nerve block). I had to have a nurse come in and administer my bed-pan.... this shit was humiliating. And for that reason I would avoid drinking water, so that I wouldn't have to be reduced to a paralyzed baby so I could pee. It's weird being in a hospital for more then a few hours...Everytime you get to know one of the Nurses, a new one comes to switch them out. I have to say, every single one of them was amazing. I always felt secure and safe and taken care of.
Lucky for me, my pickup fell on a weekend, a Saturday I believe. That means I had 1 full day with roommate help before they all went off to work-weeks.
Flashback to be talking about living in a house. This was literally living THE DREAM. I loved it, it was huge. Okay...now I am moving at a snails pace to get anywhere, it became a constant struggle. Not to mention, the shower I was using was a tub shower (It was impossible to get in, to be able to bend my knee enough to lift over the tub rim was like enduring an entire season of the biggest loser in a 30 second sitting). Thankfully there was a standing shower I was able to use. I think it was 5 days before I could actually take a good shower.
It was sometime on Sunday I started experiencing the most crazy, ridiculous, aggressive headache I had ever felt. I was freaked out....especially all the warnings they gave me about blod clots and such. I called the Hospital, they said to take more pain medicine and wait a few hours.
It was around this time THE NERVE BLOCK STARTED WEARING OFF.
Here I was, thinking I was having an incredible time getting better and not taking pain meds, and then I realized, I hadn't really felt much at all.
OH MY GAWD. This was bad. It came back, and it came back hard. I was not prepared. THe next day by brain was splitting in half, I'm on hold with different nurses and different doctors. I finally talk to someone trying to trouble shoot with me.
Her: Have you had any caffeine today?
Me: No I haven't, I have.......
It dawns on me that I hadn't had caffeine since the DAY BEFORE my surgery (4 days ago)
Her: Try a cup of coffee, and next time let us know, we can give you a caffeine drip.
HOLD UP......A CAFFEINE DRIP?! FOR REAL?
it is indeed real and I cannot wait to take advantage of it for my next surgery.
FANTASY LAND.
Sure enough, that did the trick. And slowy, yet surely the pain started to get managed. I was taking percoset quite regularly and playing A LOT of Xbox. Lucky for me I had a TV and a bed that were relatively close together. Getting to the bathroom was still quite hard. One of the hardest things I can recall is using the bathroom. The toilet seat seamed a million miles away and the simple act of sitting down turned into me looking like a weight lifter trying to squat while holding a VW beetle. I would use the walls to brace myself as best I could but it would always be scary.
It is hard to remember how long it was until i started walking and even then how long it took before I was exercising, but it took a good 4-6 weeks before i could even consider a normal life.
I was doing PT 2x a week and slowly tappered off when I started getting better.
Here is a little photo collage of scar progression:
It was a looooooong walk for someone who just had a synovectomy.
My first day it took me 17 minutes.
In about 2 months time, it took me 7 minutes. I t was huge. I can't thank the universe enough for putting me there when it did. I literally walked myself into rehab. And it worked!
I also had a huge pool at home at the time, THAT was a huge help as well, I would go and dip my legs in (unheated) to "Ice" my knee and sooner or later I was swimming laps.
I can guess that about 3 months times, I was doing spectacular, even able to do yoga. I went in for my 6 months check up and they said I had done better then some of their best patients.
I will never forget when my doctor said, "you are a success story".
In my next blog I will explain how I found out it had come back and how the struggle is so very very real.
Thanks for Reading
**AIRHORNS**
Don't worry, someone will hold your hand at your surgery this time.
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