11/22/17
11/22/17
It was a day I will remember for the rest of my life. With little exception, no-one plans to have surgery in their life. For the majority, the news comes suddenly, unexpectedly, and with a fair amount of anxiety. Though, once the nerves settle and one is able to become accepting of their situation, the best thing anyone can do is use their strength to be positive and optimistic about what is to come and how they can grow from the experience.
For me, tearing my ACL while playing the sport I love was completely devastating. There was nothing more I could do besides attend physical therapy regularly to regain my strength in preparation for surgery and wait for the day that my journey towards recovery would begin. For more reasons than one, I had been looking forward to November 22, 2017 since my accident roughly a month and a half ago. Rather than dreading what has happened to me, I've aimed to use my injury as an opportunity to learn about myself and the medical field. Quite frankly, for a long time I have been intrigued by what surgery means from a patients perspective and treated developing an understanding of this curiosity of mine as a goal. Plus, the road to recovery and getting back to the normal physical life I was living just before my injury could only begin following my surgery. With these notions in mind, I have never been nervous about having the ACL reconstruction surgery performed. I have always been well aware that the individuals who would work on me are as professional and talented as it gets in the field. My confidence that the procedure would go well and as planned never wavered. But, that's not to say that waking up on the morning of the operation I wasn't at least a bit consumed by the prospect of my new reality hitting me in a matter of a few hours.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was greeted kindly and escorted with my mother, father, and best friend to my waiting room where I'd rest before and after the operation. The entire experience leading up to the moment when I blinked my eyes open after the surgery and waited for my mind to drift back into consciousness was completely surreal. Before I was taken to the OR to be given anesthesia, my loved ones sat patiently with me in the patient prep room. Dressed in a teal hospital gown and light blue cap covering my hair, my nerves were admittedly beginning to have an effect on my spirit merely because the only control I had, or lack there of, was waiting in the hospital bed for my nurse to knock on the door and inform me and family that it was time to say our "see you soons."
Nonetheless, that moment, when I'd be rolled into the surgical wing on a hospital bed, was inevitable. When the time came, in a peculiar sort of way, I actually enjoyed it because for a few minutes, I was learning first hand the means of preparing for and experiencing a lifestyle altering surgery. Even more than that, I was in awe to be passing the scrub sinks, which were lined with soaps and linens, then seeing the operating room in all its beauty. Although I'd rather be in the surgeons position, simply being in that environment felt like home. Upon entering the OR, my entire being was in lalaland. I took in every sight, smell, and noise that I could, paying especially close attention to the staff and the way they organized themselves and their space. I took mental notes that I'm sure will stick with me for years and years to come.
Just before it was time for me to be put under anesthesia, I introduced myself, my condition, and my medical history to the staff to be sure everyone involved was on the same page with my operation. Then, in a matter of seconds, I found myself laying on the OR table with a gas mask plastered to my face. I felt at peace and calm knowing that I was in good hands and that my part of the preoperative process was coming to a close. Now, I could lay back, and let my surgeon do the rest. In no more than thirty seconds of breathing through the plastic gas mask, I was entering my own little world and drifting to sleep. The last memory I have is of gently dropping the gas mask from cheeks and letting my hand sinking to the floor. From there, my body became incredibly weak and light as if I was floating into nothing.
Then, in what felt like a split second, my eyes were beginning to peel open in the nurse monitored recovery room. In time, I slowly became aware of my surroundings again and bushed my hand down my body to feel my entire left leg wrapped in bandages from hip to angle and locked straight with a long hinged brace. When I gathered myself to speak, my surgeon informed me that the procedure went exactly as planned and with no complications. I smiled, and thanked him for his work. Before being taken to the second recovery room where I'd be greeted by my family and friends, I was kindly given two doses to painkillers via my intravenous line to control the tenderness pulsating from the top of my thigh to the middle of my calf.
As I was being rolled away to rest with my loved ones, all I could focus on was how relieved I was to begin my 9 month journey towards recovery. I like to think that everything happens for a reason. That being said, in retrospect I am entirely grateful to have been faced with the situation I am in because through it I have learned immensely about myself, surgery from a patient's perspective, and have grown to be a more wholesome individual with an enriched appreciation for being healthy. With this newly gained knowledge and insight, I only see myself becoming a more well rounded, sensitive surgeon and woman in the future.
It was a day I will remember for the rest of my life. With little exception, no-one plans to have surgery in their life. For the majority, the news comes suddenly, unexpectedly, and with a fair amount of anxiety. Though, once the nerves settle and one is able to become accepting of their situation, the best thing anyone can do is use their strength to be positive and optimistic about what is to come and how they can grow from the experience.
For me, tearing my ACL while playing the sport I love was completely devastating. There was nothing more I could do besides attend physical therapy regularly to regain my strength in preparation for surgery and wait for the day that my journey towards recovery would begin. For more reasons than one, I had been looking forward to November 22, 2017 since my accident roughly a month and a half ago. Rather than dreading what has happened to me, I've aimed to use my injury as an opportunity to learn about myself and the medical field. Quite frankly, for a long time I have been intrigued by what surgery means from a patients perspective and treated developing an understanding of this curiosity of mine as a goal. Plus, the road to recovery and getting back to the normal physical life I was living just before my injury could only begin following my surgery. With these notions in mind, I have never been nervous about having the ACL reconstruction surgery performed. I have always been well aware that the individuals who would work on me are as professional and talented as it gets in the field. My confidence that the procedure would go well and as planned never wavered. But, that's not to say that waking up on the morning of the operation I wasn't at least a bit consumed by the prospect of my new reality hitting me in a matter of a few hours.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was greeted kindly and escorted with my mother, father, and best friend to my waiting room where I'd rest before and after the operation. The entire experience leading up to the moment when I blinked my eyes open after the surgery and waited for my mind to drift back into consciousness was completely surreal. Before I was taken to the OR to be given anesthesia, my loved ones sat patiently with me in the patient prep room. Dressed in a teal hospital gown and light blue cap covering my hair, my nerves were admittedly beginning to have an effect on my spirit merely because the only control I had, or lack there of, was waiting in the hospital bed for my nurse to knock on the door and inform me and family that it was time to say our "see you soons."
Nonetheless, that moment, when I'd be rolled into the surgical wing on a hospital bed, was inevitable. When the time came, in a peculiar sort of way, I actually enjoyed it because for a few minutes, I was learning first hand the means of preparing for and experiencing a lifestyle altering surgery. Even more than that, I was in awe to be passing the scrub sinks, which were lined with soaps and linens, then seeing the operating room in all its beauty. Although I'd rather be in the surgeons position, simply being in that environment felt like home. Upon entering the OR, my entire being was in lalaland. I took in every sight, smell, and noise that I could, paying especially close attention to the staff and the way they organized themselves and their space. I took mental notes that I'm sure will stick with me for years and years to come.
Just before it was time for me to be put under anesthesia, I introduced myself, my condition, and my medical history to the staff to be sure everyone involved was on the same page with my operation. Then, in a matter of seconds, I found myself laying on the OR table with a gas mask plastered to my face. I felt at peace and calm knowing that I was in good hands and that my part of the preoperative process was coming to a close. Now, I could lay back, and let my surgeon do the rest. In no more than thirty seconds of breathing through the plastic gas mask, I was entering my own little world and drifting to sleep. The last memory I have is of gently dropping the gas mask from cheeks and letting my hand sinking to the floor. From there, my body became incredibly weak and light as if I was floating into nothing.
Then, in what felt like a split second, my eyes were beginning to peel open in the nurse monitored recovery room. In time, I slowly became aware of my surroundings again and bushed my hand down my body to feel my entire left leg wrapped in bandages from hip to angle and locked straight with a long hinged brace. When I gathered myself to speak, my surgeon informed me that the procedure went exactly as planned and with no complications. I smiled, and thanked him for his work. Before being taken to the second recovery room where I'd be greeted by my family and friends, I was kindly given two doses to painkillers via my intravenous line to control the tenderness pulsating from the top of my thigh to the middle of my calf.
As I was being rolled away to rest with my loved ones, all I could focus on was how relieved I was to begin my 9 month journey towards recovery. I like to think that everything happens for a reason. That being said, in retrospect I am entirely grateful to have been faced with the situation I am in because through it I have learned immensely about myself, surgery from a patient's perspective, and have grown to be a more wholesome individual with an enriched appreciation for being healthy. With this newly gained knowledge and insight, I only see myself becoming a more well rounded, sensitive surgeon and woman in the future.
I have yet to experience being on the table, fortunately. The idea scares me. Watching someone else get cut open while unconscious, no problem, but knowing that someone else is watching me being cut open, that thought freaks me out. I'm glad it was a positive experience for you, this made me get a little less scared about the scenario of it happening to me.
ReplyDeleteI remember when I had oral surgery and it was so scary to wake up being hit with the pain! You don't seem to mention much pain after waking up even though your surgery was much more extensive than mine. However, this blog post definitely shows the bright side of sucky situation. I hope you recover fast and well!
ReplyDeleteThis blogpost was very well organized and detailed. I hope you get better soon, if you need help with anything let me know. Do you wanna play my Switch (Nintendo Switch, before someone gets alarmed)? I can bring it whenever, but I need to take it back home or else my parents will get worried. It helps me take my mind off things and I heard you like them.
ReplyDeleteI get nervous and shaky about even a bit of localized anesthesia for some dental work, so even reading this freaked me out. However, I have had ongoing knee problems in both knees for more than three years now, and I know ballet is hugely detrimental to the body over time, so there is a decent chance that, later in life, I will have to undergo surgery in my knee or something of the sort. I guess that it is nice for me to know that you were so relaxed and you had this much trust in the doctors because I would be in much worse shape if I were in that position. However, and this may be counter-intuitive based on my previous statements, I am interested in physical therapy, so I have a similar trust, admiration, and curiosity every time I go to the physical therapist for whatever issue I am having with my knees. Sorry for the rambling comment, but nice post!
ReplyDeleteIt's freaky to think that while your unconscious people who might not even know are trying to fix something inside of you. I don't think I could stand it because I wouldn't be able to cope with the fact that I am leaving my body to someone who I don't even know. I hope that things go back too normal for you. Good Luck!
ReplyDelete