I'm getting sliced and diced tomorrow. I don't know how I feel about this. I know, fundamentally, that this is the start of the process of rebuilding my life to the point where it was. I don't know, however, how this will all work. I know about the surgery, and I know that in a short few months, I will be able to be walk without pain. I know that in 6-9 months, I will be back to 100% and ready to restart my gymnastics career (or not, haven't gotten that far yet).
I am anxious about a few things, though. I truly fear the anesthesia wearing off halfway through and waking up with some dude drilling into my femur. The thought of that freaks me the fuck out. The other thing that freaks me out is the post-op pain. I want to know how much this is going to hurt. I don't want to be dependent on pills to kill the pain, but I feel as though I might be forced into that corner. I want to man up and tough it out as much as possible, but I think that might be a stupid idea. I don't know. I don't like not knowing these things.
I don't know how long I am going to be useless. I don't know when I can get back to an ordinary routine. I don't know when I am going to be able to walk. That is an intimidating thought.
I want someone to tell me that everything is going to be fine, and I want them to NOT be talking out of their ass. Encouragement is nice, but it seems as though everyone that I know has never had anything like this. We, as a generation, are too young to have reconstructed joints.
I also have to figure out what to do about work. This is a problem for the first time in my life. I am going to have to fins a job that has more sitting and less wet floors. Luckily for me I am going to have my degree in May, so as long as I can tread water until then, and maybe I can get a little bit of luck. So if anyone knows about a job for a college grad with knowledge of literature and history, let me know. I'm interested.
As of now, however, I am left with my thoughts and anxieties. My brain is telling me that I'll be fine sooner than later, but my inexperience is telling me that I am going to be fucked.
I liked my life, before the universe rudely interrupted it. I want that feeling back. I guess I just have to plow forward. Be a Man. Tough it out.
This is going to suck.
SD
I had my gallbladder out a few years ago, which was a more emergent situation than yours - I pretty much only had a day to consider the terrors of surgery and recuperation. I never worried about waking up in the middle of surgery, but I sure as hell worried that I just WOULDN'T EVER WAKE UP.
ReplyDeleteBut, things will PROBABLY be fine, and you'll most likely live through it. (When you sign the consent form that says there is a possibility of death, you will know why I am not talking out of my ass saying things will just be fine.)
The thing I've learned about pain though, is that it doesn't last - and that the anxiety over pain is usually worse than the pain itself. Furthermore, once you've recovered, you don't REMEMBER pain. You won't ever recall it like a memory and actually feel the way it was, so that is a hopeful thought, right? You just get through it. The pain is not going to kill you, and even if it makes you want to die, it will pass eventually.
My advice? Take the drugs as they prescribe them to you - no one will think less of you for it. In fact, people will probably think you're an idiot if you don't take advantage of painkillers - that's what they're made for, after all.
Good luck, Derb. See you on the other, more zombie-ish side.
It isn't the amount of agony, but the type. There are different types of pain, and this is one that I have never experienced, hell I've never even had stitches. That is where the anxiety lies.
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