Not your average day

So it had been nearly six months since my tumble in The Alps and my knee was not even close to feeling any better.  Time for surgery! 

It was scary.  I can’t lie.  Everyone else in the waiting room seemed really relaxed, reading books, chatting and making jokes.  My problem was I was too focused on the risks when I should have been thinking about the benefits of having a fully functional knee again.

I arrived at the hospital at 7:30am after four hours sleep (four hours more than I expected) as I was told and was thrown into action. I was measured for surgical stockings, had my blood pressure taken again and given a locker. Then my surgeon’s deputy came along to ask me lots of questions and make me sign a very scary consent form, not forgetting to inform me that I was undergoing a ‘major operation’. He proceeded to whip out a marker pen and write PCL with an arrow pointing to my knee on my shin.  Branded.

If that wasn’t enough, the anaesthetist then took me to one side and told me that when I woke up I’d be in ‘extreme pain’ for about six hours and would be on morphine. By this point I was really doubting my decision to go through with this. I mean the surgery is optional, right? I could live without it. Of course I’d be confined to a life without my beloved dance, without running, without step aerobics. Hey – most people would love an excuse to lie on the sofa night after night.

These were the thoughts that were running through my head and, even as I was being given the anaesthetic, I wondered if everyone in Theatre 4 would be really mad at me if I changed my mind.

Waiting to go into theatre, my heart was beating so fast.  I could hear it on the machine.  Everytime an anaesthetist mentioned anything about the surgery it would speed up again.  Honestly I’d be useless at taking a lie detector test.

And then I woke up with a heavily bandaged knee and was offered a chicken sandwich and a hot chocolate. I felt elated. The relief it was finally done was enormous.

The operation had taken two hours. I don’t know exactly what has been done yet, I’ll find out at my next appointment.  I’m not sure if any of my old PCL was used in the reconstruction or a new one was made completely.  It’s also likely that there was further damage to my knee that needed to be sorted out so I’m waiting to hear about that too.

The physiotherapist came to see me and suggested a couple of small exercises to be starting with.  Then I dusted off my crutches and made an attempt at the stairs before chatting to the nurse about medication and going home.

Quite an eventful day.