Adventures in Slicing and Dicing

Or how I spent my day in out-patient surgery… This all started about fifteen years ago when I tore some ligaments in my ankle when I was out running one morning. After a few months in splints and casts I was pronounced healed. But over the years the ankle’s ligaments became more and more stretched out, to the point that the right foot had become completely unstable (you know how a Raggedy Ann doll flops around? My foot could do the same thing. Not a pretty sight.) We arrived at the Doheny Institute at 10:30am and spent some time filling out forms, my anxiety level rising by the minute. Chuck was very patient, and never laughed at me or told me to shut up no matter how whiny or obnoxiously pathetic I became. I nearly passed out when they stuck the IV in me (I hate needles), and I decided there and then once and for all, to NEVER have any plastic surgery EVER!! The surgeon and anesthesiologist finally came to my bedside a little after noon, and life immediately became a complete and happy blank for me. Next thing I knew, it was around 2pm and I was in recovery and dying of thirst. After another hour or so they issued me crutches, disconnected me from the IV and sent me on my way home. I am now sporting a glorious air cast, which resembles the sort of boot worn by astronaunts and is every bit as clunky and awkward (the moon’s gravity would be a big help). This black behemoth will be a lovely part of my wardrobe for the next 6 weeks. The good news is that the doctor predicts 100% recovery, and my “new” ankle will be better, stronger, faster than ever (Jaime Sommers here I come). In the meantime, there are my good friends ibuprofen and vicodin to keep me company. Them and several books from Amazon.com.