9/26 The day before surgery
A quiet day before surgery. First order of business is a stop into the hospital at Providence Northeast for blood work. My father arrives tonight and will be with me the rest of the way, but right now the experience is a little lonely. Its hitting me that I'm about to undergo a pretty major ordeal, and even with the support of family and friends, its something you go through alone. The questions come up as expected, "Do I really need this now?", "What if something goes wrong?", "Is the pain really that bad?", "Will I be able to move like I did before?" I try to savor each step, and in quiet moments - in private - I kick and pivot my hip to see if it really still hurts. The verdict? Kind of.
After leaving the hospital, I fill my prescription. Unfortunately I'll need to take an injection for the first 10 days after surgery to make sure that my blood doesn't clot. This is one of many uncomfortable aspects of recovery I'm not looking forward to. My dad can help the first few days but I'll have to give the injection to myself when I get home. Blue Cross initially rejects the prescription as not covered ($400+), but the pharmacist at Long's drugs makes the case for me and they do ultimately grant an exception, cutting the cost down by 2/3. I also have to pick up dressing changes for the wound. I find out later I'll be heading back to the pharmacy for Vicodiin and Celebrex, as well as a raised toilet seat.
At noon I head over to Dr. Gross's office in West Columbia. The receptionist seems a bit harried. There are many patients in the waiting room. I pass the time talking with another patient who is back for his 6 weeks post-op appointment. He tells me that the experience is likely to be really unpleasant for 10-14 days. I can expect to have to get up to go to the bathroom frequently during the night. My leg will swell up like a pumpkin. He says he hopes to be skiing again, but that the target for returning to full activity is 6 months. I'm disappointed because I'd convinced myself it was about half that. He also mentions that there is a clicking noise that he can hear when he moves his joint, but that it doesn't restrict movement.
After about 35 minutes, I'm taken back inside and I have x-rays taken of both hips. I spend about 15 minutes waiting in a room and then am joined by Lee Webb, Dr. Gross' assistant. She's friendly and helps fill out my remaining paperwork. Towards the end of her time with me, she brings in the Biomet device that I'll be getting implanted. It is a combination of cobalt and titanium -- the part spins very smoothly in the socket, but the thing that strikes me is the weight of it... it feels like it may way about 2 pounds. It wonder if this is going to slow me down when I'm recovered. I'm pretty sure that wearing 2 pound ankle weights wouldn't speed me up! I'm glad the metal is solid and not going anywhere, but it makes my heart sink a little to think about the extra weight. She tells me the clicking noise is common and goes away after 3 months or so when the ligaments have strengthened -- apparently its the sound of the parts knocking into each other. Sinovial fluid (body juice!) should fill in the gap to reduce the friction.
After 30 minutes or so (be sure to bring a magazine you like), Dr. Gross joins me in the room. He's taller and has more of a presence than I expected after talking to him on the phone. He has an intense gaze. He seems bright and earnest. Our conversation is pretty brief. He confirms that 6 months is the time required for full recovery. He thinks I'll be able to play soccer and snowboard again after that time, but he mentions that only time will tell whether these activities are a good idea -- the industry's experience with the device isn't extensive enough for any long term data to be available. He doesn't want me riding a bike outside for that time either, which means it looks like I'll be taking Muni to work for a while. In the end I don't really have a lot of questions for him. My perspective, right or wrong, is that he knows what he's doing and there's nothing I'm going to ask him that is likely to change what goes down. I've made my decision and am sticking with it, despite my last minute jitters.
I spend the afternoon driving around Columbia looking for a good restaurant for my 'last meal' without much success... I get a snack at Sonic and a forgettable dinner at Ruby Tuesday. I'm sure there are better options for the informed, but I do find myself missing San Francisco cuisine. I stick pretty closely to the 6pm cutoff - not eating or drinking after that time. I head to the airport at 10pm to pickup my dad.
Surgery tomorrow is at 11:30am
After leaving the hospital, I fill my prescription. Unfortunately I'll need to take an injection for the first 10 days after surgery to make sure that my blood doesn't clot. This is one of many uncomfortable aspects of recovery I'm not looking forward to. My dad can help the first few days but I'll have to give the injection to myself when I get home. Blue Cross initially rejects the prescription as not covered ($400+), but the pharmacist at Long's drugs makes the case for me and they do ultimately grant an exception, cutting the cost down by 2/3. I also have to pick up dressing changes for the wound. I find out later I'll be heading back to the pharmacy for Vicodiin and Celebrex, as well as a raised toilet seat.
At noon I head over to Dr. Gross's office in West Columbia. The receptionist seems a bit harried. There are many patients in the waiting room. I pass the time talking with another patient who is back for his 6 weeks post-op appointment. He tells me that the experience is likely to be really unpleasant for 10-14 days. I can expect to have to get up to go to the bathroom frequently during the night. My leg will swell up like a pumpkin. He says he hopes to be skiing again, but that the target for returning to full activity is 6 months. I'm disappointed because I'd convinced myself it was about half that. He also mentions that there is a clicking noise that he can hear when he moves his joint, but that it doesn't restrict movement.
After about 35 minutes, I'm taken back inside and I have x-rays taken of both hips. I spend about 15 minutes waiting in a room and then am joined by Lee Webb, Dr. Gross' assistant. She's friendly and helps fill out my remaining paperwork. Towards the end of her time with me, she brings in the Biomet device that I'll be getting implanted. It is a combination of cobalt and titanium -- the part spins very smoothly in the socket, but the thing that strikes me is the weight of it... it feels like it may way about 2 pounds. It wonder if this is going to slow me down when I'm recovered. I'm pretty sure that wearing 2 pound ankle weights wouldn't speed me up! I'm glad the metal is solid and not going anywhere, but it makes my heart sink a little to think about the extra weight. She tells me the clicking noise is common and goes away after 3 months or so when the ligaments have strengthened -- apparently its the sound of the parts knocking into each other. Sinovial fluid (body juice!) should fill in the gap to reduce the friction.
After 30 minutes or so (be sure to bring a magazine you like), Dr. Gross joins me in the room. He's taller and has more of a presence than I expected after talking to him on the phone. He has an intense gaze. He seems bright and earnest. Our conversation is pretty brief. He confirms that 6 months is the time required for full recovery. He thinks I'll be able to play soccer and snowboard again after that time, but he mentions that only time will tell whether these activities are a good idea -- the industry's experience with the device isn't extensive enough for any long term data to be available. He doesn't want me riding a bike outside for that time either, which means it looks like I'll be taking Muni to work for a while. In the end I don't really have a lot of questions for him. My perspective, right or wrong, is that he knows what he's doing and there's nothing I'm going to ask him that is likely to change what goes down. I've made my decision and am sticking with it, despite my last minute jitters.
I spend the afternoon driving around Columbia looking for a good restaurant for my 'last meal' without much success... I get a snack at Sonic and a forgettable dinner at Ruby Tuesday. I'm sure there are better options for the informed, but I do find myself missing San Francisco cuisine. I stick pretty closely to the 6pm cutoff - not eating or drinking after that time. I head to the airport at 10pm to pickup my dad.
Surgery tomorrow is at 11:30am
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| Capital building in Columbia | Providence Northeast |
posted by muggsy in sf at 4:40 PM
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