I just recently had my second foot surgery. If you want an account of the first foot surgery, see my March 2009 post, labeled, “Loopy on Lortab…” This surgery is the same exact surgery as chronicled in that post, but this time on my right foot. Same problem, same surgeon, same hospital, same everything (except this time I remembered to pee IN the cup). 
I even had the same nurse check me in and get me ready for the surgery, as well as those same socks that you’d have to be an idiot to put on wrong. :)
However, the anesthesiologist was different. I don’t remember much about the first anesthesiologist except that he was very nice. He listened to my concerns and answered my questions kindly. The anesthesiologist I had for this past surgery was abrupt, didn’t seem to care too much about my concerns, and was quite rude when I asked him a question he didn’t know the answer to.
Nevertheless, he was good at his job. I can remember much more about this surgery than I can about the one on my left foot, and I attribute that to the work of the anesthesiologist. Like the first time, once I had been sufficiently prepared by all the nurses, the anesthesiologist walked me back to the same room that I had had my first surgery in. And it was even colder than I remembered it being.
The head nurse again asked me the same questions, what’s your name, what’s your date of birth, what are you here for, etc. etc. They helped me up onto my bed, and had me schooch down so that my feet were just hanging off the edge of the operating table. Then they positioned a pillow with a weird sort of strap on top of the pillow underneath my head. The anesthesiologist told me that the funny looking strap would help keep my oxygen mask in place once he put it on. The nurse asked me how I was doing, and I told her halfheartedly that I was okay. She asked if there was anything I could do to make me more comfortable, and I said, “No, I’m just nervous.” We both chuckled at that a bit, and then she kindly told me that if there was anything she could do to help me feel better, that I should let her know.
So I was laying there on the table and they had me put my arms on these little arm rest things all of their own, and the position I was in reminded me a little bit of da Vinci’s drawing, even though I really looked nothing like that.
They must’ve had both of my arms lying on their own little counters because in one of my arms I had an IV, and on the other one, they later put on a sphygmomanometer (blood pressure cuff – I just love using that word). I told them that I was super cold, and they bundled me up really tight, and made me really comfortable. I think I had warm towels on my arms, too. Then my foot doctor came up to me and told me that he was going to start by putting a tourniquet around my leg. I said okay, and started to feel even more nervous, because I hadn’t remembered any of this happening during the first surgery. Then the anesthesiologist told me that he’s going to start the oxygen, and he put the oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, and then checked to make sure I was still comfortable. I told him that I was, even though I was very concerned that I was still conscious. I couldn’t remember anything that had happened like this from the first surgery, and the fact that I was still awake was quite unnerving. I remember lying on the table, with the oxygen mask on my face, looking around the room and wondering when something was going to happen.
The next thing I knew, the surgery was over, and the anesthesiologist was standing over me, asking how I was feeling. I told him I was okay, and I think that’s the last I saw of him. The next thing I was conscious of was the fact that I was shaking uncontrollably because of how cold the room was. One of the nurses said, “Oh, she’s got the shakes!” and I think they gave me a blanket to help me warm up.
Then they were trying to get me onto a bed with wheels on it so they could move me to a recovery room. One of them asked me if I could try to get onto the bed. They told me that once I was out of the operating room, I would be much warmer. I remember saying something like, “That is a GREAT motivator for me to move!” I then did my best to move (my foot was already in a walking cast/boot at that point) but I’m not sure how much I was actually able to move myself, and how much of it was actually the nurse. At the time, I thought I had moved myself all by myself, with gentle guidance from the nurses. However, looking back on it now, I’m not so sure. As I was being wheeled backwards out of the OR, I kept saying “thank you, thank you” over and over again to the nurses, and I think one of them said something like, “Oh, she’s such a sweetie!”
Somewhere in there before I left the OR, I know that my doctor said something to me, but at this point I can’t remember what it was he said or when he said it. Anyway, I was next wheeled into my recovery “room” which was really just a long hallway with small, individual areas partitioned off by curtains. I was trying to come to my senses, and my recovery nurse came in and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I said yes, and then she rattled off a list of drinks they had, which included both apple juice and Sprite. I remember wanting to ask for a mixture of the two, because that’s what I always do when I’m on the airplane. But I didn’t ask for the combo, because for some reason, I was afraid that I might sound a bit “uppity”. Why I would worry about sounding “uppity” in a hospital recovery room, I’m not sure. But I was. So I asked for some apple juice instead, which she brought, but she only let me have a couple of sips. She said that I had to take it easy on my stomach.
She left to go get me some more blankets, because I was still very cold. Before she left though, she explained that the reason that they keep the OR so cold is because that way it’s less easy for bacteria to grow and cause infections. I remember saying, “Oh, well that makes sense!” When she was gone, I heard another patient being wheeled into the “room” right next to mine, and I could hear them running through the list of drinks for that patient too. I thought to myself, “Hey, there’s someone else who just got out of surgery! Maybe we can be friends!” Then I tried to reach out to pull the curtain aside so that I could meet my new “friend”. But because of my IV still being attached, I was somewhat restrained. I later realized that it wouldn’t have even mattered if I had been successful in pulling back the curtains, because the patient only spoke Spanish, as they had to call in a translator. Since I don’t speak any Spanish, that moment was the beginning and end of our friendship right there, before it even had the chance to grow. Too bad…
At that point, I heard my mom’s voice on the other side of my curtain talking to one of the nurses. The nurse was telling my mom that my doctor would like to talk to her about how the surgery had gone and how I should be cared for, and that he would be expecting her in a different room. Then I said, “Mom!” and she came in. I asked her if she would stay with me and talk to the doctor with me, so that I could hear what he had to say.
So that’s exactly what happened, and the doctor gave my mom a copy of the x-ray they had taken, mid-surgery. I didn’t really understand much of what was being said, except for when he explained what he had done, because it was the exact same thing that he had explained to me about what he was going to do. I even felt confident enough to start chiming in and helping my doctor to explain to my mom about what he had done during the surgery.
This is an X-ray taken after the surgery was mostly completed, but before they put the screw in my foot to hold the two pieces in place. The pin was holding everything all snugly in place so they could put the screw in.
My mom asked my doctor how the surgery went and he said that it had gone just as well as the first one. At some point in the conversation, I think that I may have said something a little amiss, because I remember my doctor smiling at me and saying something about how the anesthesiologist had gotten me drunk. I smiled and laughed, and then told him that I thought they had done something differently this time, since I could remember so much more about the whole process, and that I was much more awake compared to the previous surgery. He said that it was probably because it was a different drug that the anesthesiologist used. Then he confirmed with me about our follow up appointment for next week, and he left. Apparently, the whole surgery only took half an hour.
My mom asked me if I wanted something more to drink, and I asked her for the Sprite/apple juice combo. She also brought me some crackers. Then my mom helped me get dressed, and the nurse said I was ready to leave. But first I needed to go to the bathroom. Once I was done, I asked for my contacts, because I thought being able to see clearly might help me to be less loopy. It helped me feel a bit more oriented, once I was able to see things properly. As my mom went to pull the car around, my nurse started asking me questions about my family and where I was from and all that jazz. Then she wheeled me out to my car when it showed up, and she and my mom got me in the car all snug. Then we went to pick up my dad, who had been at a family dinner for the funeral of my great aunt 
(busy day). He brought out some food for me and my mom and off we went!
This time around, I feel like the Lortab hasn’t really made me especially loopy. It does make me a bit tired, and when I was still coming down from the drugs from the surgery, I think I was a little blunter and a little louder than I normally am. In fact, on the drive home, I may have even told my dad to shut up (whoops), but I’m not 100% sure about that. Other than that, it wasn’t too bad; although some of my toes do still feel numb. But as far as I can tell, this is perfectly normal.
So… two surgeries down, none to go!! Hurrah, hurrah!!
