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Fingernails vs. Toe

Fingernails vs. Toe Fingernails vs. Toe

I recently had foot surgery. The only surgery I have ever had previously, was a cesarean section, when my daughter, Hannah, was born, almost 21 years ago.

I had an inkling of what the surgery would entail, but was still a tad apprehensive. First, a pre-op appointment with my primary physician was required, which included the customary blood pressure check, blood draw, weigh-in (ouch) and a COVID test.

One thing I didn’t count on was an electrocardiogram (EKG). An EKG records electrical signals from the heart.This procedure requires a patient to strip to the waist and wear a hospital gown.

I sent up a huge prayer of thanks for the attire I chose to wear that day. I almost wore my most comfortable pair of pants. They look perfectly respectable…until you reach the waistband. The material is virtually non-existent and has holes at frequent intervals, with shreds hanging in various places.

This poor garment looks like it went 10 grueling rounds with an enraged bobcat and the bobcat clearly won. I was so glad at the last minute I decided to wear my good pants.

All was well with my pre-op appointment, so I was cleared for surgery. The hospital where I was having the procedure, advised me to wear comfortable clothes and I seriously considered wearing my bobcat pants, but common sense reigned and I opted for the “in case you’re in an accident” pair instead.

I had to arrive at the hospital by 7 a.m., to get checked in and

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prepped for surgery by 8 a.m. Han was able to attend two of her classes online, so she could drive me, as I couldn’t drive after the procedure, because of receiving anesthesia. I woke up extraearly to shower and dress, and make the 45-minute drive to the hospital.

Han was done showering in record time and I was feeling really confident. And then, I walked in the living room and found Hannah applying fake nails. I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, before I could calmly say, “Uh…I have to be at the hospital by 7 a.m.” Han nonchalantly replied she had a studio performance in her afternoon class and wanted to dress up.

To be honest, I was already irritated from adhering to the presurgery order of no food or water after midnight. What a barbaric custom! I can handle going without food, but the no-water edict was sheer torture.

Said nails were finally in place, so I went to the bathroom once more before we left the house. As I came out, Han is chatting with a college friend who had called her. Oh my dear Lord! Surgery. Hospital. 7 a.m. I made my appointment with three minutes to spare. Not a promising start.

However, the doctor and staff were excellent, and very reassuring. I had to strip to the waist once again and don one of those stylish hospital garments, giggling to myself that I had chosen to wear my “when you’re out in public” pants.

The anesthesiologist introduced himself, briefly explaining what would occur. He would administer just enough anesthesia to make me drowsy, but not knock me out. The doctor went over the details of the operation, and asked if I had any questions or concerns.

I asked if he had gotten plenty of sleep the night before, teasing him, if I was going under the knife, I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t doze off.

I had to laugh once I was in the operating room. The staff transferred me from my bed to the operating table, which, quite frankly, was not as wide as my girth! My body kind of lobbed over some on each side of the table. I had C-section flashbacks when my arms were secured straight out to the sides, by strapping them down.

I think that is so the patient doesn’t move around, inadvertently disconnecting or dislodging wires, or other pertinent equipment. I’m claustrophobic, so it didn’t bode well for the surgical team. Or so I thought. I remember talking and laughing with the crew about something, then waking up, back in my room. I had slept the entire time.

The operation was to correct a hammertoe. The doctor removed the knuckle and stretched the ligaments to straighten the toe. Han was curious to know what the knuckle would look like, so I asked the doctor if he would take a picture of it.

He couldn’t, because of sanitary purposes, but he did put it in a small container so we could see it afterward.

Han was embarrassed that I brought the container home, but I was still somewhat out of it and drowsy from the anesthesia, and I wanted to study it when I was more cognizant.

For such a tiny thing, it sure caused a lot of trouble. Another memorable moment, but that’s one item, though, that definitely will NOT go in the scrapbook.