Gimp

I can't say or even write the word 'gimp' without a thinking of Owen Wilson in Meet the Parents. That is such a funny movie and the scene where Owen Wilson talks about the dog with the hurt paw is so funny. After watching it with roommates back when Ryan and I were dating we all would laugh when if someone used the word, bonus points for holding up your hand like a hurt paw. Ah, I miss Amee. If you read this Amee: I miss you!

So, back to my state of gimpiness.

I went under the knife yesterday afternoon. My surgical package included a bunion repair, aka lapidus something or other, and a peroneal tendon repair but it did not include the calf muscle repair they thought might be necessary as it was related to the torn tendon. At least I don't think they did it. I asked twice and they told me twice and I think I've forgotten twice. My calf doesn't hurt so I'm assuming it was left alone.

The anesthesiologist sounded like Hawkeye from M.A.S.H., at least I think his name was Hawkeye - the one who was always dressing up like a woman. So, Dr. Hawkeye sold me on a spinal for anesthesia instead of general (where they completely knock you out) because it would be better for Gavin as I'm breastfeeding.

Side note: I almost wrote, "still breastfeeding" but realized that has a negative connotation as if 'm doing something abnormal for breastfeeding at 6 months. Well, lemme tell ya (although you are probably well aware) breastfeeding is the best for baby and great for moms and the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for 18 months.

So... I curl up in the fetal position on the tiny operating table and Dr. Hawkeye puts the needle in my back sans lidocaine (numbing medicine) because he said the needle for the lidocaine is much larger than the one for the spinal. It didn't hurt, not even a little. It was an odd sensation, though. It was nothing compared to the epidural when I gave birth to Gavin.

Legs go numb then I was given the sleepy medicine. He only gives me a little and tells me so. I ask if I will be able to feel pressure and stuff being done on my foot. He assures me that I will but it will not be painful. Since that feeling creeps me out like you wouldn't believe I ask him to give me more. He complied and I had a great nap.

Ah, nothing exciting happened. I'm bored just writing about it.

Recovery was a little more exciting since I was lying next to the female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There was a concrete like barrier between our gurneys, you know, a curtain. She was crying because she was in pain. Her partner/husband/boyfriend/companion was with her. I don't know why he was with her. She was so abusive towards him. I know being in pain can make someone a little snappy but she was just nasty to her man and sweet as pie to everyone else around her. She heard Gavin cooing and said, "He sounds cute," to which I replied, "He is, wanna see him?" Then I had Ryan take Gavin over so she could gaze on the cuteness that is Gavin.

Man: "What about the kids?" (I have no idea what the guy said since he was so soft spoken).
Grumpy: "They're at my moms; she said it's not safe. Can't you hear? Clean out your f-ing ears! F! What's wrong with you? Are you an idiot?!"

That was pretty much their conversations.

Here is a snippet of mine and Ryan's conversation:

Me: "Hi, honey! Hi, Gavin! Ryan scratch my back please."
Ryan: "How was surgery......."
Me: "Great. Scratch my back, please. How was your day."
Ryan: "Great, I .... blah, blah, blah."
Me. "Great. Scratch my back please."

I forgot how those anesthesia drugs make you itch like crazy. Argh. Just thinking about it makes me itch. Or the oxycodone I took at 5 am are making me itch.

Does it drive anyone else out there nuts when people use itch and scratch interchangeably?

Getting upstairs to the house was fun when we got home. And by fun I really mean no fun at all. We figured the easiest way in would be through the basement. It wasn't that bad but I can't do crutches on stairs so I sat on the steps and scooted my way up. I'm so glad the discharge nurse suggested that.

Except for one excursion to the bathroom I stayed planted on the sofa the rest of the night with my foot propped up. Poor Ryan; he had to do everything. He is going to have to do everything for the next 5 days at least until my mom maybe arrives (if not I will go out to my mother's-in-laws house earlier).

I don't know what I'm going to do about coffee this morning. Ryan doesn't drink coffee. I know I could teach him how to make it but I think that could very well be the one request that would be akin to a straw on the camel's back. He is going to go into the office today as he has some work to finish up so he has to get me all situated, get ready himself and get Gavin ready. The only thing he isn't taking over in the house is breastfeeding.

There is one last story of my bra doing double duty (no pun intended) but the spacey component of the drugs I took a little while ago are kicking in to full gear so I'm going to stop writing because it is requiring more energy with each passing stroke of the keyboard. Just writing that last sentence was a monumental accomplishment. Definitely using spell check today.