D-Day
Nil by mouth. Hospital by 6:30am. Madly packing the night before. All made for an interesting morning.
Getting there, there were forms to fill out and I said goodbye to the equivalent of a rtw airfare for the privilege of staying in Hunters Hill Private for 2 nights (what, no hot spa?!) My nurse loved me because I was a girl, and so had shaved my legs already, saving her the effort. Time for the ubiquitous hospital gown. The nurse asked me which leg it was (which was always a minor panic of mine. Some friends suggested writing "not this one" in texta on my left knee). Once it was covered in betadene I felt a bit safer :)
I met my anaesthesist first, and honestly my first reaction was, I need to be doing his job. He had the hottest suit and tie and shoes. He must be making a motza. Isn't he worried about the nausea patients get? Then my surgeon came in, but nothing new as I'd already met him beforehand. Waiting is probably the worst part. Sitting there in a hospital gown, just waiting to go to surgery allows for some nasty fears to play across your mind.
Even though I could walk, my bed was wheeled up to operating theatre, where I met a cute little girl who was getting surgery as well. And her mum told me how knee reconstructions did hurt a lot, but they were nothing compared to childbirth. Ahh the things to look forward to ...
Anaesthesia is a weird feeling. I was talking to him about us both being from mixed backgrounds and how it made life interesting (he came from Lebanon). And then I was awake in the recovery room. It's like 4 hours of my life just ... disappeared. Woke up and the girl next to me was another Clare who was also getting her ACL done. Same surgeon. But as it turned out, he told her her knee was fine and they had cleared the damage from her fall. No need for crutches and a brace. Sliding doors, anyone?
Rest of the day was very woozy, and I can't tell you much about anything that happened.
Getting there, there were forms to fill out and I said goodbye to the equivalent of a rtw airfare for the privilege of staying in Hunters Hill Private for 2 nights (what, no hot spa?!) My nurse loved me because I was a girl, and so had shaved my legs already, saving her the effort. Time for the ubiquitous hospital gown. The nurse asked me which leg it was (which was always a minor panic of mine. Some friends suggested writing "not this one" in texta on my left knee). Once it was covered in betadene I felt a bit safer :)
I met my anaesthesist first, and honestly my first reaction was, I need to be doing his job. He had the hottest suit and tie and shoes. He must be making a motza. Isn't he worried about the nausea patients get? Then my surgeon came in, but nothing new as I'd already met him beforehand. Waiting is probably the worst part. Sitting there in a hospital gown, just waiting to go to surgery allows for some nasty fears to play across your mind.
Even though I could walk, my bed was wheeled up to operating theatre, where I met a cute little girl who was getting surgery as well. And her mum told me how knee reconstructions did hurt a lot, but they were nothing compared to childbirth. Ahh the things to look forward to ...
Anaesthesia is a weird feeling. I was talking to him about us both being from mixed backgrounds and how it made life interesting (he came from Lebanon). And then I was awake in the recovery room. It's like 4 hours of my life just ... disappeared. Woke up and the girl next to me was another Clare who was also getting her ACL done. Same surgeon. But as it turned out, he told her her knee was fine and they had cleared the damage from her fall. No need for crutches and a brace. Sliding doors, anyone?
Rest of the day was very woozy, and I can't tell you much about anything that happened.
posted by Claire at 7:19 PM
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