Friday, March 6, 2009

I Survive in 26 Steps

My apologies, but I must tackle this in list form.
Oh and by the way, if you don't like medical procedures? Read no further.

How my "date" went:
1. We (Dad and I) arrive 15 minutes early.
2. The receptionist says to have a seat, that it will be 15 minutes. We are waiting on the xray tech.
3. The lights are off in the waiting area; Dad turns them on.
4. We wait an hour.
5. I go back to the back, the doc takes off my cast. I stand over the sink, watching him feel around for the pins.
6. I begin to feel queazy.
7. I am taken to the hallway, given an antiseptic wipe and told to continue wiping off the tips of the pins (my skin is healed over them).
8. I am taken in to a room--I think it was an xray room--and I stand while the doctor takes out a needle and proceeds to dig around in my hand near the pins, numbing me.
9. I realize I am going to pass out. I tell the doctor I need to sit. He says to wait until he is done. The edges go blurry. He is done.
10. I sit down.
11. I looked at my hand. It is bleeding from the shot.
12. I put my head between my knees.
13. I recover.
14. The receptionist, now an assistant, asks me if they are going to take the pins out.
15. I hyperventilate a little bit.
16. I recover.
17. Doc douses my hand in iodine over the sink.
18. We pull the chair over to the xray table. The chair breaks. I get a new one.
19. The xray tech explains to the receptionist how to work the tourniquet.
20. I think I might have a panic attack.
21. I don't.

At this point, I wish someone is there to hold my hand and say, "You're a brave girl!"

22. The receptionist works the tourniquet. The doc cuts me twice, yanks out the pins (this part hurts, even though I'm numb), and pours hydrogen peroxide over everything. I get two little band-aids with Neosporin, a splint, and a wrap over it all.
23. I survive. They even give me water.
24. Dad asks the doc if we did an xray. He says no, that it would just be "more money" and that everything "felt fine."
25. I make an appointment to go back in three weeks.
26. Dad takes me to Pei Wei where I gorge myself on salted edamame.

Two additional thoughts:
a) Maybe this wasn't so much "surgery" as a "procedure," but I still feel that it qualifies.
b) Those pins sure looked like knitting needles--almost exactly like my metal sock dpns, actually.



MB said...

I appreciate your detailed, literally point-by-point, narrative! The part about folks learning as they go (as in receptionist turned tourniquet technician) are indeed instructive :-) . This should be shared with medical trainees --

Hope the day after is a good day after . . .


Marsha said...

Oh my, what an experience. How do you feel? Are you able to knit? :)

Abby said...

I almost passed out reading that!!!!!! You brave girl!