Oh hai there. Remember me? No biggie. I didn’t remember who I was this weekend, either. I had the good meds!
For those who didn’t know, I had surgery on Thursday. It was optional surgery. What whacko actually chooses to have surgery? Well, I’m not going to justify all the reasons my husband thinks I’m a whackjob. I’ll just explain why I chose to have this procedure called arthoscopic surgery done. My inner nerd/teacher feels the need to tell you that the word comes from two Greek words, arthro (joint) and skopein (to look). The term literally means “to look within the joint.” Glad we got that over with.
So, if you’ve been reading here long enough, you’ll remember that
once upon a time three months ago a while back I started #operationskinny and I had no more excuses. Little did I know the irony that lay before me. If anyone told me that there was going to be an actual OPERATION to operationskinny I would have laughed at them. Actually I would have given them my best Queens’ girl head shake and a finger snap (or two). I kid. That girl only comes out when I drink.
Well, after excruciating pain during those 1.5 weeks of exercise during #operationskinny and lots of unlady-like outbursts I realized that there was still something very wrong after my car accident. March of 2012 to be exact. I’ve been dealing with knee pain on-and-off since then. I always chalked it up to It was something minor and it will heal on its own when my knee hurt. Basically, I’m an idiot.
In this accident, the other car was in the opposing traffic, making a left turn. I couldn’t see that car, and they couldn’t see me. When they turned, I had NO TIME to stop in order to avoid a crash. My car T-boned theirs, and in the process, my left knee landed on my dashboard. As I crashed into them, my knee also absorbed the impact of the accident. Wonderful, right? Both insurance companies have deemed me not-at-fault, basically because I had the right-of-way. And as my luck would have it, only I was injured. Spectacular.
Lisette, in the future–if you are experiencing ANY KIND OF PAIN after a car accident and the initial X-ray shows nothing, channel the badass inside you and knock down walls until people get to the bottom of it! Idiot.
I went to an orthopedic doctor. Took an X-ray recently. Nothing. He did a physical exam and after poking and prodding he found what was wrong but causing me extreme pain. I had a torn medial meniscus. In other words, something that needed surgery and that would never heal on its own. Spectacular. So I opted for the diagnostic surgery aka arthoscopic surgery on Thursday.
Before I continue, I just want to say this: GO HUG A NURSE. Seriously. If you know a nurse. Hug them. I get a little overwhelmed just thinking about this, but the nurses I have met are seriously the kindest, most selfless wonderful human beings I have met. I was terror-stricken going in for surgery prep. My wonderful nurses even went out of their way to find the tiniest needle for my IV. They were upbeat and charming, and even offered a numbing shot before my IV so I wouldn’t feel the agony while they searched for my invisible tiny veins. They made jokes to make me feel better, and one of my nurses even looked like Laura Linney. She was so charmed by this compliment that stayed by my side from post-op to the wheelchair ride to the car.
I’ll have physical therapy for 4 weeks and hopefully by then I’ll have full function of my knee and #operationskinny can resume again. For those who are grossly interested, I’m including two pictures of my knee post-op. The rated G version and the rated PG-13 version. The rated G version is the one you’re seeing. If you really wanna see what the stitches look like, hover over the image and it will show you the second image. Gross, right?
Don’t say I didn’t warn you!