I first felt it in my toes, ever so faintly and ever so shortly before the rest of my extremities joined in. I did not just fall asleep per se but blurred out. I imagined the outer boundaries of myself disappearing. There was a soundless hum as my atoms dissipated out into the room. Then my torso melted, and finally, slowly from the outer edges in, my eyes.
“Scott. Scott,” and suddenly it was over.
“Yes?” I replied to the nurse as if I had simply been distracted from an ongoing conversation. I was awake. I was in the recovery room and it was over.
Once awake I was rolled back down to the day ward where my morning had started. There the nice nurse provided me with an ass full of morphine and let me rest. Soon, however, it was time for me to get moving. I started bending my knee as per my pre-surgery instructions and I constantly wiggled my toes (the latter to prevent blood clots). It is amazing how easy these things are to do when you are doped to the gills. The nurse and I even went for a test walk. I was a little dizzy and was not avoiding the limp that she encouraged me to avoid but I did not fall. Everything seemed like a success.
And it was. Except for the complication I mentioned earlier. When I sat back down on the bed, we noticed that blood had soaked right through my tensor. When we removed them and the gauze padding, the nurse was surprised to see that I had not just been scoped. Ten staples held the right side of my thigh together and about ten more binded the skin down the front of my kneecap. No problem. But I now required different set of instructions for the next few days and the nurse attempted to explain them to me.
I was not to do THIS exercise anymore until I saw my doctor again. Or was it THAT exercise? I was not to remove the bandages for two days after which I should wash the wound. Or was I NOT to wash the wound?
In case any of my nurses happen to read this, I thought I would provide a word of warning for my June surgery. Do not give me medical advice when my veins are full of morphine! Cause I won’t remember.
Tags: diary, exercise, gills