There have been a few changes around the Anderson household. For one, I am limping around, and Sam is cooking and cleaning.
For anyone that has known me for any time, I don't like to make a big deal about my feet issues. I try to downplay it, or make it a joke. I have been known to make up crazy stories about how I received all the bandages, casts, and scars to see how which ones actually fool people. My favorite one to date is "I dropped a chainsaw on my foot. They surgically had to re-attach each of my toes". I remember I got my high school history teacher to believe that one. She never did ask why I had a chainsaw in the first place though...
However, in the last year or so I've been dealing with increasingly severe pain in my feet. I wasn't satisfied with the podiatrists in Utah. But I found a fantastic podiatrist here in State College. She's short, has dark curly hair and is very frank and doesn't beat around the bush. Instead of asking me to describe the surgeries I had, she took one look at my scars and x-rays and started explaining the surgeries I had to me.
More or less my feet are in ok shape. The pain is my feet kinda-sorta-collapsing again. However it is in the beginning stages, and how long will it take - who knows? So a couple of prescriptions to take care of the inflammation and I'm pretty ok. However, the podiatrist wants a second look at my left foot. She pokes and prods, while I yelp when she pokes at a part of my joint. One CAT scan later, one of the first staples I received is now working it's way into the joint and causing me pain. Time to take them out. They've done their duty about 13 years ago, no reason for them still to be in there now.
Last Wednesday I went in to have the two staples in my left foot taken out. Minor procedure, no big. Sam was excellent, he helped me stay calm while being prepped. Although he has a lot to learn on the "distract me" task. The only time he was quiet and didn't talk to me or make me laugh was when I told him to do so.
I've always gotten extremely anxious in the prep for surgery. Partly from scary hospital experiences when I was little, and partly from being alone most of the time while I was being prepped. Almost all of the surgeries I had in California, no matter how minor I would shake so badly out of nervousness and anxiety that the poor nurses thought I was cold and would pile 4 or 5 heated blankets on me. It was really nice Sam had a chance to be there for me this time around.
Surgery went well, and Sam got a huge kick out of my post-anesthetic state. I remember generally what I was thinking, but apparently don't have much of a filter. Most of the other surgeries I was majorly groggy and sleepy all day long. For this one, I had a much easier time waking up, but apparently tried to convince the nurse I wasn't a drug addict. I also was mad at Sam because he said I had "Snookie-toes" because my food was still stained orange from the Iodine used in surgery. Ask Sam about it, and he'll tell you all the crazy stuff I did and said. Oy boy. Never going to live this one down.
Wednesday went well, but Thursday through Saturday were awful. I was able to keep down food Wednesday, but Thursday I started throwing up everything, including water. It got so bad that after a day of not keeping anything down Sam started to feed me tablespoons of gatorade every few hours to try to get me to keep something down. So lame. It's also very uncomfortable and difficult to keep your foot constantly elevated. People think "Oh you sit and have your foot on a stool" Nope. Elevated above your heart means on the floor with your leg up on the couch, straight up in the air, and sleeping with a foot of blankets. Let me tell you, not comfortable!
Sam was a perfectly wonderful caregiver. He was doting, filling ice packs, buying foodstuffs, and even bringing me a poinsettia to brighten my day. None of the flowers at the store were up to his par. He's been picking up and cleaning around the house, and doing the cooking. Cooking actual meals for both of us is quite new to him, he is frustrated by the "non-optimized" and "multi-tasking" nature of cooking. However, since standing for even minutes causes me pain, he will work away and I sit nearby to give input. So far he has made a fabulous spinach cream pasta, baked ziti, and glazed carrots.
However, he now understands the frustration of keeping a kitchen clean! He is seriously irate if he has to dirty one dish, and exclaims this loudly. He explained over tonight's dinner how cyclical and never-ending cooking and dishes were. He went on to explain how it was hard work, and took so much time! I just laughed and told him I was so happy that now he knew how I felt every day.
But all is well now. I'm hobbling around, and going to work. Sam has finished his classes and finals, and is lounging around getting me excited for the holidays.
And in conclusion, yes I did get to keep my staples :) They totally freaked Sam out, I don't think he realized how big they were, or the fact they had deep barbs! But it's the only thing I have to show for all my troubles! My current collection is currently 4 staples, one 2 inch screw, and (somewhere back home) four 4 inch needles with green plastic ends. Still to be fished out are 4 staples, and another 2 inch screw, all now in my right foot. Those won't be coming out for some time hopefully.
Surgery totally sucks. I do not recommend it. So here's to my 10th surgery - my present for Christmas 2011.
