Thursday, August 2, 2012

It's Just a Fucking Toe

81/365: sad toeAs I've mentioned before, I have a busted toe that is totally my husband's fault. (I stubbed it really hard on a suitcase he should've put away two weeks earlier.) If only I had broken the fucking thing. I hurt it in December. Or maybe November. It was a really long time ago. A broken toe would've healed in less than a month.

But I'm way too talented to simply break a toe. I have a screwed up hammer toe situation going on that requires surgery.

First, I decided to delay surgery because it was Winter and who wants to wear a surgical shoe in the snow? And then it didn't snow. So I spent all Winter wearing orthopedic sneakers which I already owned because I'm sexy like that.

Then, in the Spring, I went through all the pre-surgical tests and doctor's appointments just to find out that the ambulatory surgical center where my podiatrist wanted to do the surgery was run by idiots. When he called to schedule the surgery, they said that they had to redo his certification this year instead of next year because they have new rules. So he sent over his paperwork and the person who does certifications when on vacation for two weeks while his paperwork just sat on his desk. And then I don't even know because it's August and they still haven't recertified the poor guy.

In the meantime, I decided that I didn't want the type of surgery that podiatrist #1 does because I'd lose the flexibility in that toe and I might miss that when I do yoga. I might not, but the doctor was glad that I decided to go to someone else instead of waiting for the idiots, so everybody's happy.

So I went to see podiatrist #2 this week. He'd rather do the surgery in the ambulatory surgical center in his building with an anesthesiologist and four part harmony, as long as they participate in my insurance network. I'd rather do it in his office. Sitting up, swilling scotch and biting on a piece of leather if truth be told.

When he described the actual surgical procedure, I was all, "well, that sounds gross, but as long as I can wear shoes again." But I really just do not want to be assed with anesthesia. I get migraines several days a week - I don't need to be knocked out for an additional day. Plus the pre-anesthesia fasting is sure to give me a migraine. That I won't be able to treat with anything stronger than Tylenol because of the risk of extra bleeding.

So I'm hoping I can get the most local local anesthesia they have. I had something removed from the inside of my eyelid (a weird-thing-ectomy, if you will) while I was wide awake and they only numbed the actual eyelid in question. If they try to tell me that they have to numb more than my foot, I'm kicking someone.

I remember when I had knee surgery about 15 years ago, there was another woman there for the same surgery. She had an overnight bag, so it was clear that she was going for the full unconsciousness anesthesia complete with overnight hospital stay. I, of course, just got a spinal and it felt shitty enough coming out of that. When I saw that woman, I thought she was such a wuss. Because I am full of sympathy and kindness like that.

I mean, come on. It's a freaking knee. It's way down there. It was arthroscopic. Our surgeon was the best knee guy in the city. I really didn't see anything to be scared of.

Of course, I had surgery on my face when I was twelve (hit by a car, landed face & knees first) and damn straight, I was knocked out for that (and for when I had my septum undeviated years later). But a knee? Or a foot? Or an eyelid? Child's play.

What's your anesthesia threshold?

1 comment:

  1. I'm in the "knock me out" camp! I even was under (the "twilight" version) for my wisdom teeth. (All four were impacted and surgically removed at once.)

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