My vacation was pretty fun, but I didn't get to do near as much as I'd hoped to. I had planned on going zip lining and parasailing and a lot more, but instead I mostly got to sit by the pool with my cane nestled beside me. Even swimming was pretty difficult, much to my dismay. On the bright side, the arm that held the cane was not the arm that was dislocating, so I was at least somewhat evened out. It was a great vacation though, and I met a nice couple from Ontario.
When we came back, I was very ready to start my year at school. I've always been ridiculously excited for school, starting in about June. When the textbook lists come out, I usually spend about two hours just standing in the bookstore being excited and happy that I get to start school again, so I was so pumped to go back. We lived quite close to the school so I got my UPass for the bus and got my backpack all ready and got ready to go. I still was working from home at this point because it was quite hard to move around, but I thought if I could get to school, maybe I'd be able to get a little better and actually start working in the office again. Boy, was I wrong. I had three classes, and they were all Software Engineering classes because the Human Computer Interaction concentration still didn't exist at this point. My profs were all very understanding of my ailment, though I still had no idea what was wrong with me. Every day I went to class, one of them being a class with one of my good friends Ian. I would usually do okay getting there, and I would start getting sore during class, and then when class was over I would hobble over to the bus stop which would take about 20 minutes, and then wait for the bus to take me home. Once I got home I would nap and then do my homework and then go to bed. This got increasingly harder over the weeks. I'd try to fit as much work in as possible too, because I needed to make some money and I really like work, but it was difficult because I was in so much pain and was so tired already.
Early in the semester, I got a couple more tests done. One of them was an MRI where they had to stick a needle in my hip and inject dye beforehand, much like the one I got in my shoulders a while ago. It was painful. I thought it was painful when it went into my shoulder, but that was nothing compared to this. My friend who is a nursing student brought me, and I feel like I'm forever in her debt because of it, because she was amazing. She gave me candy and told me I did awesome and took my mind off it... she was perfect. The second test was a bone density test, where you lay on a bed and they take a massive camera machine and spend about three hours taking random pictures of you. You can't move for the whole thing and the machine is about a centimetre away from you. Josh took me to that and he looked a little freaked out watching it, but I'm an imaging pro, so I was all ready and just let it happen. After these tests were done, I got told that I would get an appointment with my new surgeon soon, but he looks at each case himself and he was on vacation, so I would have to wait.
At about this point, my family and I started realizing that school might be a little too much for me at this point, so I had to unfortunately accept the fact that I was going to need to drop the semester until this got fixed. This was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me. So in October, I bowed out of school and got my tuition for the year back. I was devastated. I really wanted to keep working, but it got harder and harder to hold my laptop to be able to work, and to sit up for long periods of time, so I eventually had to accept the fact that I also unable to work until I got this fixed too. So now I was basically sitting on my ass until this got fixed. I can't do that; I am the type of person who needs something on the go all the time or I get really upset and depressed. Josh and I ended up moving back into my house with my parents so that they could help take care of me.
It was around this time, the time that my life seemed to have come to a crashing halt, that I got the date of my surgeon appointment. December 13th, 2010. Keep in mind, I got this problem halfway through August. This might seems like a ridiculously short time to everyone else, but I was living in crippling pain every day, so this was an eternity to me. I was even on Percocets and long lasting Oxycontin pills to try to deal with the pain, and it wasn't working that well. I waited with baited breathe for this appointment, and then Mom, Dad, Josh, and I leapt into the car and drove to meet my newest surgeon.
Once again, I seemed to have lucked out with surgeons. This man is well known for doing certain hip surgeries, and he seems to have taken some sort of course (or maybe teaches it) on how to be the nicest hip surgeon in the world. He checks out all my tests with us and then gives us the news: I have a labral tear in my hip. I know you all know what this means, but I'll tell you anyway. A labral tear is where the cartilage that surrounds the inner part of the joint rips. The funny part of this: my tear is completely separate from the rest of my health problems, I just happened to get it. Out of bad luck apparently, no one really knows, but I find this a little bit funny because this wouldn't happen to anyone but me. Normally it happens to really active people and God knows I'm not active. He seemed shocked that I managed to tear it by walking through the mall (apparently I was power shopping). Anyway, he said there was a couple of ways to fix it. There was an arthroscopy method where they went in the some cameras and some other tools and stitched the tear back up, much like the arthroscopy method in which they did my shoulder. Or they could replace my hip completely with a synthetic hip (not metal, because if I get pregnant someday that would be VERY bad for my body). He said that, though the second method would for sure fix it, I would need to get the replacement changed every 10 or so years because they wear out. So he would prefer to do the first method, even though the odds that it would actually fix it were quite slim. This isn't exactly a good thing to hear in my opinion, though my family felt quite confident about it, so we decided to go ahead and book me for the arthroscopy.
We left feeling pretty confident that I would get fixed one way or another, though it would be a little ways down the road. The surgery was booked for May, 2011. I was ready to get going and have this recent health problem fixed, but I sure wasn't ready for what was in store for me in the upcoming months.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Stop Staring At Me And Answer My Questions!
So for the first time since I was 16, I was jobless. I have to be honest with you, I don't like being jobless. I was still in school at this point, so I was putting a lot of focus into that, but summer was quickly approaching and I had tuition to pay for the next year of school, along with rent for my new apartment, so I was starting to panic a little. I decided to look on Joblink, an awesome site my University has that posts jobs. I found a job that the University itself had posted for a web developer, developing in C#, a language that I was somewhat familiar in. I figured it couldn't hurt to try. I also applied at a job that my friend Ian worked at, because it would be awesome working with him. To my surprise, I got an interview at both of them! I hadn't had an interview for a long, long time, so I was terrified. The interview for the job at Ian's place was a lot of fun, I mostly just talked to them. They all seemed to really like me and they were all really nice people. The only problem was I would have to be moving a lot of heavy equipment and with my shoulder that would obviously be a problem. I had high hopes for it however.
The University interview was scary but awesome. They had a test for me to take, and then they talked to me after. The people there were so nice, and I remember thinking that I would give anything to get that job, though I really didn't think I did that well. I didn't sleep much that night because I kept thinking about what I could have done better. To my surprise, I got an email back saying that I didn't get chosen for that position, but I did look like a good fit for another position, a User Interface position, and they wanted me to come in and interview for that! This was awesome for me, because I was really wanting to get into the Human Computer Interaction concentration in school, so it was more aligned to what I wanted to do in my future. I was ecstatic! I came in and interviewed, and my excitement towards the topic took over my nervousness this time. I think I did pretty well!
I ended up getting offers for both jobs! I was really surprised and excited, especially because this was the first time I'd tried getting a job in the Computer Science field! I took the University job, not only because it had to do with UI and programming, but also because it was at the University, somewhere that has been one of the most amazing places in my life for almost the entirety of my life. So far it has educated me, now it has employed me, and in the future it will also be a huge factor in helping my health. But we'll get to that later.
So I started working at the University. I met my coworkers, some of the most amazing and understanding people in the world, and got my desk (yeah, I have a desk!!), and got all settled in. I told my bosses about my health stuff, and they were very accepting of it. My job there was completely the opposite from the lifeguarding job in that no one would make me feel bad for things I couldn't control. It was amazing!
The summer went by extremely quickly that year. I focused on working at my new job and getting settled into our new apartment. The one thing that happened that was interesting was I got a call that there was a donor available. I said I couldn't take it because I had just gotten a new job and was on contract for the summer, and was no where near in a good position to get it. In hindsight, I really should have gotten it. But hindsight is 20/20. They said that was fine and that donor was deferred. The summer came just about to a close, and the fateful August 2010 rolled around.
Josh and I decided to go to the mall in about the second week of this month. We were planning a trip to Mexico for the first week of September, so we had a couple things to get. We were walking through the mall, when all of a sudden I felt a ridiculous pain in my right hip. It was so bad that my entire body got covered with a layer of sweat. It surprised me, so I took the weight off it and it went away. Sometimes with my bone disease my joints will do weird things, so I sort of took a deep breath and kept going, because Josh didn't notice anything was wrong. I took another step, and it happened again. This time I squeezed his hand and took a deeper breath, so he stopped and looked at me and asked if I was okay with alarm in his voice. Apparently I had gone white. I said I was okay, because I seriously thought it was just my hip being weird. He asked if he should bring the car around and I said no, I could walk. I wanted to go in Bath & Body Works, so we went in. About every 10 steps it happened again. It got so bad that I decided we needed to go back to the car. It took us about half an hour. It was terrible. When we got home I had to go straight to bed because it was so exhausting dealing with it. It was a little scary, but I've had things like this kind of happen before and I thought I could probably just sleep it off. Just a day in the life of Kelli in my eyes. Josh was terrified because I normally didn't let him see things like this. The most he'd seen was my shoulder surgery from before, so he was used to shoulder injuries.
When I woke up I thought it was better, so I went to work. I drove there and walked to the office. By the time I got to the office it was so sore it was ridiculous, so I rested it. Dad came for lunch and we walked to Mac Hall, then back. We had to go slow as heck, but I insisted I was fine. After Dad left I got through about a half hour of work until I decided I was most definitely not fine, so I started trying to walk back to my car. I made it only about half way before I laid down on the lawn and called Josh to come pick me up. I wasn't as much scared as I was angry; I don't like things getting in my way of work or life, especially my health, and this was starting to look like it was going to. Josh came and got me, but he had to work that night so I had to leave the Opaz there. I wasn't happy about that (they're very strict about their towing here), but we worked it out and everyone started bugging me to call my rheumetologist. Eventually I did, with a sort of embarrassed "something is wrong and I have no idea what" message. Then I had to email my boss and tell him I wasn't going to be able to work for a few days. I wasn't happy.
For the next couple of weeks, I was more or less stuck at home. A couple of great things happened: 1) I got to be able to work from home, which was fantastic!, 2) I got a cane, so I could move around a little better, and 3) I got engaged to Josh. It was really quick for the relationship, admittedly. Oh well.
My rheumetologist got back to me in that time as well, and she got me to call my adult orthopaedic surgeon. They had no idea what was going on with me, but they thought he would be able to help because it was obviously a "hardware problem" (as opposed to a software problem, apparently!), so I gave his office a call. The call went like this. "Hi, this is Kelli, I'm a patient of the doctor. I can't walk. You need to see me." "Why can't you walk?" "...Seriously? This is why I'm calling? My hip hurts, I don't know why." "*sigh* Alright, how's three months from now. He's really busy." "Not good, how's 10 minutes from now." Eventually I managed to get in to see him right before we left for Mexico, literally two days before. Dad came with me.
We rolled in (I was in a wheelchair at this point, courtesy of Josh's grandpa) and I got some X-Rays, then jumped up on one of the beds and waited to see the doctor. I don't remember if Dad had met him before, but this guy, like all my other awesome doctors, is one of the best in Calgary. He is extremely intellectual however, so you need to just let him think. Dad didn't know this though. So for me this appointment was kind of amusing. The doctor came in and I told him what happened and my symptoms, and then he looked at my x-rays and just stared. And then he didn't say a word. Then he looked at me and stared. Dad tried to ask a question, so he turned to Dad and stared. I tried so hard to not giggle. Then he turned around and got another doctor, brought him back, showed him the x-ray, said something, and then stared at him. And the guy stared back. Dad was getting angry at this point and I was trying extremely hard to not laugh. It was just too much. Then he said that I needed to get a bone density test and an MRI, and that he was going to actually refer me to this other orthopaedic surgeon, because he was pretty sure he knew what it was, but he was actually better to work on it. After this was dealt with, I could choose between who I wanted as a surgeon, him or the other guy. This surprised me; I really like this guy as a doctor, and I didn't think I was going to need more tests, I kind of thought it would be a "oh, you just need a shot of this magic medicine and you'll be fine!" because that's how life works for me. But okay. At least I didn't have to laugh now. He also put a rush on it. Gotta love it when a doctor puts rush on tests for you.
So it looked like after my vacation I was going to have some fun tests! But I also had school coming up... or so I hoped.
When I woke up I thought it was better, so I went to work. I drove there and walked to the office. By the time I got to the office it was so sore it was ridiculous, so I rested it. Dad came for lunch and we walked to Mac Hall, then back. We had to go slow as heck, but I insisted I was fine. After Dad left I got through about a half hour of work until I decided I was most definitely not fine, so I started trying to walk back to my car. I made it only about half way before I laid down on the lawn and called Josh to come pick me up. I wasn't as much scared as I was angry; I don't like things getting in my way of work or life, especially my health, and this was starting to look like it was going to. Josh came and got me, but he had to work that night so I had to leave the Opaz there. I wasn't happy about that (they're very strict about their towing here), but we worked it out and everyone started bugging me to call my rheumetologist. Eventually I did, with a sort of embarrassed "something is wrong and I have no idea what" message. Then I had to email my boss and tell him I wasn't going to be able to work for a few days. I wasn't happy.
For the next couple of weeks, I was more or less stuck at home. A couple of great things happened: 1) I got to be able to work from home, which was fantastic!, 2) I got a cane, so I could move around a little better, and 3) I got engaged to Josh. It was really quick for the relationship, admittedly. Oh well.
My rheumetologist got back to me in that time as well, and she got me to call my adult orthopaedic surgeon. They had no idea what was going on with me, but they thought he would be able to help because it was obviously a "hardware problem" (as opposed to a software problem, apparently!), so I gave his office a call. The call went like this. "Hi, this is Kelli, I'm a patient of the doctor. I can't walk. You need to see me." "Why can't you walk?" "...Seriously? This is why I'm calling? My hip hurts, I don't know why." "*sigh* Alright, how's three months from now. He's really busy." "Not good, how's 10 minutes from now." Eventually I managed to get in to see him right before we left for Mexico, literally two days before. Dad came with me.
We rolled in (I was in a wheelchair at this point, courtesy of Josh's grandpa) and I got some X-Rays, then jumped up on one of the beds and waited to see the doctor. I don't remember if Dad had met him before, but this guy, like all my other awesome doctors, is one of the best in Calgary. He is extremely intellectual however, so you need to just let him think. Dad didn't know this though. So for me this appointment was kind of amusing. The doctor came in and I told him what happened and my symptoms, and then he looked at my x-rays and just stared. And then he didn't say a word. Then he looked at me and stared. Dad tried to ask a question, so he turned to Dad and stared. I tried so hard to not giggle. Then he turned around and got another doctor, brought him back, showed him the x-ray, said something, and then stared at him. And the guy stared back. Dad was getting angry at this point and I was trying extremely hard to not laugh. It was just too much. Then he said that I needed to get a bone density test and an MRI, and that he was going to actually refer me to this other orthopaedic surgeon, because he was pretty sure he knew what it was, but he was actually better to work on it. After this was dealt with, I could choose between who I wanted as a surgeon, him or the other guy. This surprised me; I really like this guy as a doctor, and I didn't think I was going to need more tests, I kind of thought it would be a "oh, you just need a shot of this magic medicine and you'll be fine!" because that's how life works for me. But okay. At least I didn't have to laugh now. He also put a rush on it. Gotta love it when a doctor puts rush on tests for you.
So it looked like after my vacation I was going to have some fun tests! But I also had school coming up... or so I hoped.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Dislocating Your Shoulder Is Not Part Of Front Crawl, So Leave That Out
The recovery for my shoulder went pretty well. It was incredibly sore, and the painkillers they gave were not enough by any stretch of the imagination, though we didn't know why. For some reason my elbow and wrist was flaring in pain as well as my shoulder, which didn't seem right, but I didn't want to complain much.
I was able to sleep a lot with the sling on, and it was actually quite comfortable. I sort of balanced on my left and right sides with the sling leaning against the bed holding me in place. It was cozy as heck. Josh was really great in helping us out, when he wasn't working he was at our house. I couldn't shower for a little while, and since you can't sponge bath hair, we put a garbage bag over my shoulders and he washed my hair in the sink.
It was very difficult for me to start taking my arm out of the sling. They had told me to once and a while take it out and move it around a bit, but every time I did it, I was positive I was going to hear the sound of glass shattering and the Super Mario "Game Over" noise would play. Eventually I managed to get it out of the sling though and move it a little, and was quite proud of myself. So proud of myself that I decided my surgeon was probably wrong and nothing happened during my surgery, and everything went right so I didn't have to worry about anything!
So the day came that we had to go back to the surgeon and see him to find out how it went. We loaded up in the car, went to the bar, had some shots, then went to the surgeons office (just kidding, we went straight to the office, it was 8 in the morning and we aren't alcoholics probably). He did all the checks and stuff, showed us the pictures, which were disgustingly awesome, and then told us what went wrong. Once they dug out all the dead bone in my shoulder, there was a divot left that was big enough and in such a position that when I lifted my arm in such a way, the ball of the joint would slide down and kind of dislocate. Fantastic. So there were a few options from here. First, I could take this magic pill that would cure everything! Oh no, wait, that was me dreaming, that didn't happen. First, we could put a metal cap on the joint that would cover it. That would work, but it would wear out the bone and cartilage and would need to be replaced after a little while. The second option is new technology, coming straight from the University of Calgary. It would be bone and cartilage from a live donor, which would mean from a person who had just passed away. They would take it from them, machine it to fit my hole perfectly, and attach it through dowels. The only catch with that is that I would have to wait for the donor to come. My surgeon hadn't done that surgery before because it was extremely new, but he was very excited about me doing it, and was quite adamant about me taking that option. After exchanging looks, we all decided that that would probably be the best option. He told me that once I finished physio I'd be going on the list for donors.
Shortly after I began physio. Though there was nothing wrong with the physiotherapist, this was terrible for me. It's extremely difficult to explain the nature of my dislocations to someone who doesn't understand and who assumes it's like normal dislocations, so most of the exercises ended up making it dislocate. I hated it!
Physio wasn't the only thing that caused it to dislocate. As I finished up my recovery and began to get back to regular life, I found myself dislocating my shoulder more and more. I could get it back in relatively easy, just by relaxing and shrugging (luckily I was quite accustomed to relaxing through pain from my history), so it wasn't a problem, but it hurt quite a bit. I began to get used to it however. It did begin to get problematic, unfortunately.
I went back to work, teaching lessons only because I didn't feel comfortable lifeguarding when my shoulder have a chance to dislocate during a save. We decided to stick to relatively low level classes so I could stay in the shallow water or hold the kids while swimming with just my legs, so I wouldn't have to worry about my arms. My first day teaching my first set of lessons, I had a private lesson, a little girl who was terrified of water. I love lessons like this because I usually have them super comfortable by the first day, and then we can spend the next seven classes playing. I walked around with her on my back until she could touch by standing on her toes, and then got her to hang on the wall (she was already doing quite well). I reached back to grab a noodle, which was a normal motion for me, and my shoulder dislocated. Still not used to the pain, I pulled a face. Unfortunately, she saw the face, immediately got more terrified, and scrambled out of the water, crying as hard as she could. I felt terrible. Once the lessons were done, I went into my boss's office and quit. There was lots of tears, but I didn't see another way. After six years, I was no longer employed as a lifeguard, shift leader, or swim instructor.
As always, given a choice, I wouldn't have changed anything in regards to getting this surgery, nor do I think my surgeon would have changed anything in regards to how he would have performed the surgery. This was just the first of a series of disappointments that my shoulder has given me. However, my shoulder has also brought some happy points as well.
I was able to sleep a lot with the sling on, and it was actually quite comfortable. I sort of balanced on my left and right sides with the sling leaning against the bed holding me in place. It was cozy as heck. Josh was really great in helping us out, when he wasn't working he was at our house. I couldn't shower for a little while, and since you can't sponge bath hair, we put a garbage bag over my shoulders and he washed my hair in the sink.
It was very difficult for me to start taking my arm out of the sling. They had told me to once and a while take it out and move it around a bit, but every time I did it, I was positive I was going to hear the sound of glass shattering and the Super Mario "Game Over" noise would play. Eventually I managed to get it out of the sling though and move it a little, and was quite proud of myself. So proud of myself that I decided my surgeon was probably wrong and nothing happened during my surgery, and everything went right so I didn't have to worry about anything!
So the day came that we had to go back to the surgeon and see him to find out how it went. We loaded up in the car, went to the bar, had some shots, then went to the surgeons office (just kidding, we went straight to the office, it was 8 in the morning and we aren't alcoholics probably). He did all the checks and stuff, showed us the pictures, which were disgustingly awesome, and then told us what went wrong. Once they dug out all the dead bone in my shoulder, there was a divot left that was big enough and in such a position that when I lifted my arm in such a way, the ball of the joint would slide down and kind of dislocate. Fantastic. So there were a few options from here. First, I could take this magic pill that would cure everything! Oh no, wait, that was me dreaming, that didn't happen. First, we could put a metal cap on the joint that would cover it. That would work, but it would wear out the bone and cartilage and would need to be replaced after a little while. The second option is new technology, coming straight from the University of Calgary. It would be bone and cartilage from a live donor, which would mean from a person who had just passed away. They would take it from them, machine it to fit my hole perfectly, and attach it through dowels. The only catch with that is that I would have to wait for the donor to come. My surgeon hadn't done that surgery before because it was extremely new, but he was very excited about me doing it, and was quite adamant about me taking that option. After exchanging looks, we all decided that that would probably be the best option. He told me that once I finished physio I'd be going on the list for donors.
Shortly after I began physio. Though there was nothing wrong with the physiotherapist, this was terrible for me. It's extremely difficult to explain the nature of my dislocations to someone who doesn't understand and who assumes it's like normal dislocations, so most of the exercises ended up making it dislocate. I hated it!
Physio wasn't the only thing that caused it to dislocate. As I finished up my recovery and began to get back to regular life, I found myself dislocating my shoulder more and more. I could get it back in relatively easy, just by relaxing and shrugging (luckily I was quite accustomed to relaxing through pain from my history), so it wasn't a problem, but it hurt quite a bit. I began to get used to it however. It did begin to get problematic, unfortunately.
I went back to work, teaching lessons only because I didn't feel comfortable lifeguarding when my shoulder have a chance to dislocate during a save. We decided to stick to relatively low level classes so I could stay in the shallow water or hold the kids while swimming with just my legs, so I wouldn't have to worry about my arms. My first day teaching my first set of lessons, I had a private lesson, a little girl who was terrified of water. I love lessons like this because I usually have them super comfortable by the first day, and then we can spend the next seven classes playing. I walked around with her on my back until she could touch by standing on her toes, and then got her to hang on the wall (she was already doing quite well). I reached back to grab a noodle, which was a normal motion for me, and my shoulder dislocated. Still not used to the pain, I pulled a face. Unfortunately, she saw the face, immediately got more terrified, and scrambled out of the water, crying as hard as she could. I felt terrible. Once the lessons were done, I went into my boss's office and quit. There was lots of tears, but I didn't see another way. After six years, I was no longer employed as a lifeguard, shift leader, or swim instructor.
As always, given a choice, I wouldn't have changed anything in regards to getting this surgery, nor do I think my surgeon would have changed anything in regards to how he would have performed the surgery. This was just the first of a series of disappointments that my shoulder has given me. However, my shoulder has also brought some happy points as well.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Surgery Went Well... And I Got Pictures!
A few weeks before the surgery, I was laying in bed after hitting snooze on my alarm clock and I went to pull my left arm from being under my pillow to at my side. In the process, I heard a very loud crack and my shoulder started hurting extremely bad. I eventually worked my arm down to be at my side and ran downstairs to tell my dad. We called the surgeon, who booked us in for an appointment at 1pm. I decided to try and nap while I waited (one thing I've learned through all this is to get all the sleep I possibly can) and laid down on the couch. I dozed for a while, and I noticed that the more comfortable I was, the less my shoulder hurt and the more I could move it. Finally, it was almost back to normal, except for some residual pain. I decided to go to the doctor anyway to see what happened.
When we got there, I got an x-ray done again and we found that there was a chunk of bone that had lifted up from the head of the joint and was catching, like a tab. He said more than likely it was going to catch a lot, but once I get the surgery he'd smooth it out and it would be fine. He also said there were some chunks that were floating around and were getting caught. The reason it worked itself out after I napped was that I relaxed and it was able to work itself out when the muscles calmed down. Dad and I were satisfied with the response, thanked him for seeing me so quickly (it was really nice of him), and went on our way. Between that day and the surgery, that happened quite a few more times, but I was able to relax enough to unlock it myself and didn't need to go back to the surgeon.
The day of the surgery I got very little sleep. This was the first surgery I had in an adult hospital, and I wasn't going to be able to stay overnight, so I was terrified. We had to get up very early to check in (we got there for 6:30am or something) and get my day surgery bed, so by the time we left I'd only slept a couple of hours. In the morning, Mom, Dad, and I rolled into the Peter Laugheed hospital and went to the check-in area. I remember we sat there and giggled about random things until we got called, which we usually do when we're nervous. Finally I got checked in and got to go upstairs to the waiting bed. I could only have one visitor at a time, which was stupid because the waiting period of the surgery could be forever, and no one wants to be healthy sitting in a hospital bed with one visitor standing awkwardly over you (we didn't have a chair for a while). Kyle and Josh got there pretty soon into my day, and they all rotated in seeing me, making it extremely hard for me to play pokemon on my DS. Not that I'm complaining.
I ended up laying in the bed waiting for surgery until 3:30pm. I guess he was late with another surgery. I actually ended up having a nap during my wait, which was nice. When it was finally time to go in, they took my glasses and wheeled me into the other waiting area (I got to stay in my bed the entire time, woot) where I got to wait for another half hour or more. This part had the added bonus of me only seeing blur for the whole time, causing me to sit there and stare into space (or at someone, with no glasses I couldn't tell the difference). Finally, my shoulder surgery came over and chatted with me a little, telling me how nice of a surgery it was going to be, and asking how my day is going and such. The he signed my shoulder (to make sure he didn't cut open the wrong one) and left me alone again. Then the anesthesiologist came by and asked me if I have anything he should know about, like a removable face or something like that, and then left again. Finally it was time!
You always get a nurse that's the one who takes care of you during the surgery, and calms your nerves and stuff. The nurse let me walk from this point, which was nice. I got to the operation room, which was cold as heck! I asked the nurse why it was so cold and she asked if I would prefer the surgeon sweating on me, which was a good point. She introduced me to the other nurse in there, and we all joked around for a bit before I got in the chair. Then I sat down on the "table" which was a chair about four centimeters wide (or six inches... close enough) and started getting strapped in. The blood pressure cuff went on, and I started getting the anesthetic drugs put through the IV. And then I was out!
Once again, if you're squeemish, don't read this part. They made two small incisions, one on the front of my left shoulder, and one on the back. They stuck a camera and a vacuum and a drill like thing in, and then got rid of all the bone that was floating around. Then they smoothed out the joint and sewed me up by putting a stitch inside the incision, leaving no thread on the outside.
When I woke up, I was in a sitting position on the bed with a massive sling around my neck and my left arm strapped tightly in. To be honest, it scared the crap out of me. I didn't expect it to be that big! But I guess I should have expected that from the Slingmaster 2000. There was a nurse beside me, and I asked her if it was okay if I had a nap. She chuckled and said of course and continued on her work. Then my shoulder surgeon walked up. I could barely see him because I didn't have my glasses on, but I recognized his hilarious doo-rag. He asked me how I was feeling, and then said those dreaded words: "It didn't go well." He wouldn't tell me why exactly, and just said to focus on recovery. Then he went running off.
They rolled me back to the day surgery area. I remember hearing "oh, there she is" and seeing Kyle leaning against the wall waving at me as I rolled by. Then they all crowded around me in the tiny room (which was very against the rules, those rebels) and chatted a bit until I got tired and wanted a nap. When I woke up, people were usually there, which was really nice. Then I got to go home! Getting ready to leave is one of the worst parts. If you disagree, try putting on a tight tank top with a completely immobile arm that's strapped to your side. It's not fun! The car ride is difficult too. Mom, Dad, Josh and I got in the Jeep, with me and Josh in the back. I was quiet most of the way home with a blanket cuddled around me, until I started feeling very sick. We got to the street that my house was on before I told them I needed to throw up when we got home (I was very good at controlling my stomach at that point), and Dad started pulling over until I was like 'no, at home!' So we got home and I hustled in.... and immediately felt better. At least I got in the house in record time.
We were all a little down about the surgery not going well (even though we didn't know why at that point), but we were pleased that I had gotten through it with my left arm still attached. It was time to start the process of healing... again.
When we got there, I got an x-ray done again and we found that there was a chunk of bone that had lifted up from the head of the joint and was catching, like a tab. He said more than likely it was going to catch a lot, but once I get the surgery he'd smooth it out and it would be fine. He also said there were some chunks that were floating around and were getting caught. The reason it worked itself out after I napped was that I relaxed and it was able to work itself out when the muscles calmed down. Dad and I were satisfied with the response, thanked him for seeing me so quickly (it was really nice of him), and went on our way. Between that day and the surgery, that happened quite a few more times, but I was able to relax enough to unlock it myself and didn't need to go back to the surgeon.
The day of the surgery I got very little sleep. This was the first surgery I had in an adult hospital, and I wasn't going to be able to stay overnight, so I was terrified. We had to get up very early to check in (we got there for 6:30am or something) and get my day surgery bed, so by the time we left I'd only slept a couple of hours. In the morning, Mom, Dad, and I rolled into the Peter Laugheed hospital and went to the check-in area. I remember we sat there and giggled about random things until we got called, which we usually do when we're nervous. Finally I got checked in and got to go upstairs to the waiting bed. I could only have one visitor at a time, which was stupid because the waiting period of the surgery could be forever, and no one wants to be healthy sitting in a hospital bed with one visitor standing awkwardly over you (we didn't have a chair for a while). Kyle and Josh got there pretty soon into my day, and they all rotated in seeing me, making it extremely hard for me to play pokemon on my DS. Not that I'm complaining.
I ended up laying in the bed waiting for surgery until 3:30pm. I guess he was late with another surgery. I actually ended up having a nap during my wait, which was nice. When it was finally time to go in, they took my glasses and wheeled me into the other waiting area (I got to stay in my bed the entire time, woot) where I got to wait for another half hour or more. This part had the added bonus of me only seeing blur for the whole time, causing me to sit there and stare into space (or at someone, with no glasses I couldn't tell the difference). Finally, my shoulder surgery came over and chatted with me a little, telling me how nice of a surgery it was going to be, and asking how my day is going and such. The he signed my shoulder (to make sure he didn't cut open the wrong one) and left me alone again. Then the anesthesiologist came by and asked me if I have anything he should know about, like a removable face or something like that, and then left again. Finally it was time!
You always get a nurse that's the one who takes care of you during the surgery, and calms your nerves and stuff. The nurse let me walk from this point, which was nice. I got to the operation room, which was cold as heck! I asked the nurse why it was so cold and she asked if I would prefer the surgeon sweating on me, which was a good point. She introduced me to the other nurse in there, and we all joked around for a bit before I got in the chair. Then I sat down on the "table" which was a chair about four centimeters wide (or six inches... close enough) and started getting strapped in. The blood pressure cuff went on, and I started getting the anesthetic drugs put through the IV. And then I was out!
Once again, if you're squeemish, don't read this part. They made two small incisions, one on the front of my left shoulder, and one on the back. They stuck a camera and a vacuum and a drill like thing in, and then got rid of all the bone that was floating around. Then they smoothed out the joint and sewed me up by putting a stitch inside the incision, leaving no thread on the outside.
When I woke up, I was in a sitting position on the bed with a massive sling around my neck and my left arm strapped tightly in. To be honest, it scared the crap out of me. I didn't expect it to be that big! But I guess I should have expected that from the Slingmaster 2000. There was a nurse beside me, and I asked her if it was okay if I had a nap. She chuckled and said of course and continued on her work. Then my shoulder surgeon walked up. I could barely see him because I didn't have my glasses on, but I recognized his hilarious doo-rag. He asked me how I was feeling, and then said those dreaded words: "It didn't go well." He wouldn't tell me why exactly, and just said to focus on recovery. Then he went running off.
They rolled me back to the day surgery area. I remember hearing "oh, there she is" and seeing Kyle leaning against the wall waving at me as I rolled by. Then they all crowded around me in the tiny room (which was very against the rules, those rebels) and chatted a bit until I got tired and wanted a nap. When I woke up, people were usually there, which was really nice. Then I got to go home! Getting ready to leave is one of the worst parts. If you disagree, try putting on a tight tank top with a completely immobile arm that's strapped to your side. It's not fun! The car ride is difficult too. Mom, Dad, Josh and I got in the Jeep, with me and Josh in the back. I was quiet most of the way home with a blanket cuddled around me, until I started feeling very sick. We got to the street that my house was on before I told them I needed to throw up when we got home (I was very good at controlling my stomach at that point), and Dad started pulling over until I was like 'no, at home!' So we got home and I hustled in.... and immediately felt better. At least I got in the house in record time.
We were all a little down about the surgery not going well (even though we didn't know why at that point), but we were pleased that I had gotten through it with my left arm still attached. It was time to start the process of healing... again.
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