Surgery - Third times the charm!

I had surgery last week Wednesday, April 18, to remove the dead bone in my right tibia and the surrounding, infected tissue. Here, I present you with my surgery in pictures ('cause I'm to tired to write about the whole thing).

 I woke up at quarter to five to get to the hospital by seven am. I use the term woke up loosely because I don't think i got more than twenty minutes of sleep. My mom and I got to the hospital around 6:30 and went to admitting. from there we were sent to the same-day/short stay ward for pre-op which is on the fifth floor.  Below is a picture os me in my over sized hospital gown. Since I was being admitted overnight, I didn't get to stay in this room. Everyone was really nice. My mom and i couldn't stop laughing and making jokes, and for some reason we found the nurses really funny. Every time they came in they had to check my hospital bracelet to make sure I was the right person. My only complaint was the the IV bleed quit a lot when it was put in.

I look so tired, but couldn't sleep at all, although I was able to lie down for a bit. 

I was taken to the pre-op waiting room (on the third floor) about 8:15. I had to go to the bathroom so many times (thanks to the IV antibiotics I was already receiving -I got Ancef), and as a pre-op nurse said, got to waltz with my IV pole. Everyone having surgery had to wear funny blue hairnets. That waiting room is an interesting experience. I was the second patient there, so I got to people watch as the room filled up... at least 15 people having surgery at one time! WOW! Since I was able to walk to the surgery waiting room I got to sit in a comfy chair, and had a nice conversation with a man having surgery to fix a hernia. He too got to join the dark side with it's funky blue hats.

Here is my lovely (oh so not fashionable) hair net!

I was so cold. The nurse and porter who brought me down kept giving me warm blankets. The porter was joking that I would be as warm as a pop tart!

My surgeon's lovely signature on my leg (don't want to operate on the wrong leg!)

The anesthesiologist talked with my mom and I about a nerve block and something else since I had so much pain after the previous surgery (an unmitigated disaster), but in the end we decided against it. We figured that, although the risk would be small, we wouldn't rick sticking a needle in my spine... I already have one stubborn infection to deal with. Before I new it, it was time to go the the OR. There were at least 7 people in there -nurses, assistants, med students, the anesthesiologist, the surgeon himself. I told them to enjoy themselves, and the next thing I know, I was in the PACU.

After surgery I was brought to recovery (PACU - Post Anesthetic Care Unit) just after 11:30am. I was told most people don't remember much of this, but I remember everything. My pain was mostly a 5 on a 1 to 10 scale, maxing at a 6, so it wasn't to bad  (I know, it was, but I have really high pain tolerance). I was given morphine, which I have had lots of before, and dilaudid for the first time (amazing stuff!). I was allowed to have ice chips at this point, but that was a big mistake as I threw up almost immediately when I arrived in my room on the orthopedic ward. I was in recovery for about two hours. It would have been less, but I had to wait for the portable x ray people, and they were really, really slow.

Here I am just after arriving on the sixth floor in the orthopedic ward. There are a lot of people on that ward, way more than I expected. In the hospital in my region, there isn't an orthopedic ward at all! I was briefly texting my best friend that everything went well. She kindly posted an update on my face book wall because I don't use the internet on my phone.

My blood pressure was really low most of Wednesday. I don't know exaclty what it was at its lowest, but I know at one point it was about 90 over 60, and I felt like I was going to faint. I was really dizzy and drowsy, and dozed most of the day. I know my grandfather has low blood pressure issues, and I think that I might, so I will speak to one of my doctors about that soon.

This was my IV Wednesday evening, just when the saline and Ancef had finished and before I got hooked up to new stuff. Blood had gotten into it, which continued to happen every time I needed the IV bag to be changed.

This is Winks. I got him on my 18th birthday to prove how "not a child" I am. I sat him on the end of my bed until i was discharged.

Still on a liquid diet in the evening. Dinner was severed at 5:30 I think, but I didn't really eat until 7ish. You can't really tell here, but I was really pale. The nurse and my mom kept commenting  about it.

Go jello go! I didn't even touch the applesauce, soup, and tea, and I drank the ginger ale the next day.

By 8pm pain was at about a four, so I was given some stuff for it. I was allowed to choose between morphine and Tylenol extra strength. I took the latter. I was in a room with three other patients - Two women and one man.  The woman across from me had been in a car accident and suffered a badly broken right leg. Her other leg was also pretty bruised, to the point she could not stand on it to get up. She gave some encouraging smiles when my PICC line was being placed. The woman beside me was really old, and I think a bit demented. She had fallen and broken her shoulder and collar bone and couldn't even stand up. Her arms were covered in bruises from attempted IVs. I think the nurses gave up after a while. She was constantly yelling. At one point in the afternoon she kept calling out "Help! Help! I am trapped under a computer!" I don't know anything about the man in the corner, as he was discharged while I was dozing and dealing with the low blood pressure. Another man was brought in around 10:30pm, and he wasn't in good shape at all. I threw up once more just before my mom left at 8:00pm, which is when visiting hours end. It was all bile and tasted really bad. It is really good I only had the jello for dinner!

Almost 1:00 am and the old shoulder lady started screaming. After trying to calm her down for a while, the nurses gave her something to drink, and I think they had put some sort of sedative in there... thankfully. Almost 7am the next day a nurse woke me to take vitals and go the the bathroom (Holy ****, the IV makes you need to pee a lot!). Breakfast was at 8am, and I was really impressed. When I had my last surgery at another hospital, breakfast was served at 7:30 and the food tray taken away by 8. Here, you were allowed to keep the tray/food until the next meal in case you were not up to eating when it was served.

Here I am at 7:00am. I texted this picture to my best friend, Beth, with the message "Good morning sunshine!"

Yay! for a liquid breakfast again. I actually really wasn't hungry, so I didn't mind the lack of solid food at all.

PT came in the morning to get me out of bed (thank god! I could use the real bathroom). They got me up with a walker, but when I told them I was getting a PICC line, they decided to come back later to see me perform (like a circus!) on the stairs with my trusty companions the crutches. The surgeons assistant came to see me, and asked if infectious disease had seen me yet, but they hadn't. Around 10:00am the nurse was helping me up so that I could wash up in the bathroom (that self given sponge bath felt so good =>), when the orthopedic surgeon came in. The nurse kindly held my hospital gown closed a the back. He was surprised that I remembered seeing him in the recovery room. I remember him saying that everything went well, that not as much bone had to be taken out as expected, and that he was going to see my mom. Like I said, washing up felt really good, and brushing my teeth. And when I got back to bed, al, the sheets had been changed! Apparently, the nurses have to give everyone clean sheets once a day... and they felt so nice.

By noon I still wasn't really hungry, but was disappointed when I had to wait for lunch. The PICC like people had arrived. Did you know they can do anywhere between 10 to 35 PICC lines a week? I'm amazed I have never meet anyone with one before, lol The whole sterile procedure and use of the ultrasound machine was really cool, but it hurt when the guide wire went in. that was done before the skin was numbed, and I screamed. the lidocaine burned like hell, and I screamed again, but it was worth it when things were done. The whole procedure went really well and really fast. Hardly any bleeding at all.

After the PICC was placed, I had a chest x ray (in my hospital bed, with the portable machine. how cool is that?).  Right afterwards, PT came again to get me to demonstrate my awesome crutching skills. The car accident woman across from me kept asking to use crutches instead of a walker, even though she could hardly get up. This women, in her late 50's I think, said she had tried them before, but wasn't very good. The nurses had to explain that they usually only recommend crutches to young people who have used them before. Older people are more likely to fall using them as crutches are not as stable as walkers. I felt a small bit of pride in how impressed PT was with me, and they taught my how to go up and down stairs properly.

Lunch was tasty, finally something solid, although I wasn't really hungry, just a bit nibbly-ish. The ham sandwiches were nice, but i prefer them without butter.

Here is my leg early in the afternoon, just before I was allowed to put my pajama pants on.

Afterward the surgeon's assistant came back to ask if infectious disease had seen me yet, but they hadn't, and then the lady in charge of home care came to see me. She explained a lot of things to me and answered man of my questions. Thankfully my mom arrived just before she left, as I would not have been able to remember most of the stuff the the woman said, and relayed it correctly to my mom.

My awesome mom brought me some magazines to look at, and then we sat, waiting, and waiting, and then waiting some more. Around 4:00pm, infectious disease finally got to me. My regularly ID specialist works at another hospital which works with the one I was in, but she couldn't see me, so her college did. She took a lot of time to speak with me an my mom, and answered some of out most important questions. I was a bit disappointed because we originally were told 6 weeks of IV antibiotics, and that being only one injection into the PICC a day. But instead I am doing 12 week, with three infusions of two hours each a day. I am connected to my pump 24/7.

The plan was to hopefully get my home that night (Thursday), but it would depend on if home care could be set up in time and if i could get my first dose of IV medication before it was to late. My mom told the nurse that if I wasn't discharged by 7:45pm I would have to stay the night. The IV supplies would be dropped off at my house at 9:00pm, so we needed time to get home, about an hours drive. By 4:30pm I was finally getting a bit hungry, so my mom went to get me some snacks (I told you my mom is awesome!). She came back to my room and we chilled out for a bit, until dinner came just just after 5:30pm. We were starting to get skeptical about going home that night, so my mom went to the hospital restaurant to get something to eat. Just as she got back, almost 6:30pm, the nurse walked in with my IV meds - Tazocin. This antibiotic has to go through a pump, which thankfully finished infusing just after 7:00. By 7:30 I was discharged, and by 7:45 I was outside waiting outside for my mom to get the car.

This was my hospital bed just as I was leaving to go home.

While sitting outside, waiting for mom, I thought about all the people who had come to see me in one day. I don't really remember the order in which people saw me today, but here is a list:

- Physical therapy (twice)
- PICC line team
- X-ray people
- Surgeon's assistant (twice)
- Surgeon himself
- Home care
- Infectious Disease Specialist

I don't know how they organize it all, but i was very impressed!

And that was surgery. I was home quarter to nine, ready for the home care company to drop of my first set of supplies, and thankful to be in my own bed! One more milestone passed, and one fewer (albeit I don't know how many more) to go.

It had taken my a good part of the day to write this, on and off, so I am going to bed know. Home nurse comes bright and early - as they (who?) say, "The early bird catches the worm."

Brief Update

I am home, but not quite up to posting, so I will just copy and paste what I posted on Facebook at 10:00pm:

I am home. Got home just before 9pm. Surgery went well. Not that much bone had to come out. 2 types of antibiotic beads in the leg, and one type of antibiotic sponge in the leg. Had some trouble with low blood pressure but it is o.k. now. Oral antibiotics have been ordered. Mom is picking them up now. PICC line is in. Calea HomeCare just delivered a weeks worth of IV antibiotics. Will do 12 weeks of them. Home nurse coming at 10am. Really tired. Leg is soar. Throat still hurts from breathing tube from surgery. Glad to be home, but really really tired.

Will post more after the home nurse comes for the first time tomorrow morning.

Go time! (unnatural at 5 am BTW)

Leaving for the hospital in a few minutes. I hardly slept a wink! Although I think everything that will happen today has finally sunken in. I am surprisingly calm, and even felt up to cleaning my guinea pig's cage one last time so it is clean for my mom! No more waiting for me. Wish me luck =)

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO close!

This is it folks! Tomorrow is show time (both literally and figuratively, as their will probably be med students watching the whole thing. God bless there super absorbent brains, but after you tell your whole medical history to the 3rd one, it gets old, and it gets old fast. I guess that proves that getting attention isn't all that great either!)

I'm just enjoying a final meal now, as I can't drink/eat after midnight. Nothing tops a giant mug of tea and a bowl of pretzel sticks! 

Today I (in the order given): cleaned, vacuumed, went to the store for last minute things, activated my new cellphone (haven't had one since the end of grade nine (5 years ago, I know. I am way behind technology, especially seeing that my 74 year old grandfather got a cell phone years ago!), and showered. Just have to pack now... I'm going to start babbling soon, cause that's what I do when I am super nervous (blabbity blabbity blab), so I will logout and pack.

I would ask that you tell me to "break a leg" in tomorrow's performance, but,... um... well, that's the exact thing I don't want to happen. So, instead, wish me luck!

An essay! An essay! My kingdom for a completes essay!

Who is pulling an all nighter the day before surgery to finish an essay that is two months late?!? I am. Probably not the smartest thing to be doing, but I figure I can sleep after surgery. I have to get this assignment done asap. My professor has run out of patients. I should never have started new courses in January. If only I had just stuck with Lingua Latina, and one history course! At least with four credits this school year and a high average I can still keep my scholarship!

Shame

Other than a slice I saved for my brother, the cake it gone. I ate it all, and it was totally worth it. My mother warned me that I would gain wait... but I didn't. It doesn't happen when you substitute all your meals with cake for 3 days! I don't think I want to see anymore cake for a long time though...

Found my archnemesis today - crutches

Well, that was depressing. I had to get the crutches out of the basement today. Fingers crossed that the bone doesn't break in surgery. Today I had my first real panicky feeling related to this surgery. I don't think I had fully comprehended yet that I will be on crutches. I knew that I would be but I kind of put it to the back of my head for while, until reality slapped me in the face this evening. I really just wish I could get it over with right now but I should just hurry up an wait...

On a brighter note, I ate a 1/4 of a birthday cake today. I wasn't even at a birthday party. I just really wanted cake and the horribly greasy icing that comes one it, so I bought one! The shame will come later, once the cake is gone (plan is for it to be eaten by surgery, but my mom and brother want some too, so I am not a complete glutton).

Waiting (Insert Jeopardy Theme Song Here)

What is happening to me? I finally feel like I am really growing up (about time too!), and I am stuck having surgery next week. Sometimes I feel like I am no further than I was six yeas ago, well, minus the high school diploma and two years of university (half way to a degree!). I think, once surgery is over, I need to start rediscovering what normal is. My friends want adventure and excitment in their lives; I will be content with boring and the monotony of everyday life  for a while.

I was happy today. Tired, but happy. My mom says she can tell that the tension is building as we wait. I start to ramble on and on when I get really nervous, so the next few days should be fun! I think my mom will be ready to kill me by the time we get to the hospital Wednesday morning. An hour with a nervous me in the car at 5:30am is enough to get to anyone. I call it payback. She will have coffee and a sandwich with her. I won't be allowed to eat/drink anything.

Who says being sick means you can't be stylish?

Today was a good day. A happy day, despite my building anticipation for the 18th. To take my mind off things I decided to go to the mall. This is something I hardly do anymore, because I either 1) don't have the energy or 2) have a splitting headache due to the antibiotics I am on. My intention was to find something for mother's day and for my mother's birthday, as I won't be able to get out much for while after surgery. But there were so many nice things I thought my mom would like (she loves birds!). So I decided not to get anything today and asked her to come with me to the stores this weekend. I suggested we first go to NOTL because the Ten Thousand Villages store there always seems to have something she likes. It will be a nice treat before surgery, and I will hopefully find something really nice for her (she deserves it for the attention she has already given me, and which she will give even more of after surgery). I did find some nice scarves and accessories for me.

I got some new scarves for the spring. All of mine are really thick, so are to hot for the summer. I realize now that I should have coordinated them to match the fabric I got for the PICC line covers. There was 3 for 15$ deal, and since I couldn't figure out if I liked the blue or the gray better I just got both and then added the red. I know it is a marketing strategy made to get people to buy more, but I hardly ever treat myself. I though the red would be nice. We all seem to wear way to much black and other dark colours nowadays.

I also got a new necklace and new earrings. At first I only saw the necklace, which would have been 9.50$ itself, but then I realized that you could get 3 for 10$ and I though that for 50cents more I could not go wrong. Plus, I lost one of my favorite earrings on the bus about a month ago, so now I have a replacement. I might be on crutches and sporting a PICC line this time next week, but at least I will be stylish!.

Oh, and most importantly, I got my haircut. I have never had it this short before, but I think it was a good length to go with. I figure that since I will be in pain for a while after surgery and that is will be difficult to shower with my right leg and which ever arm the PICC line goes in not being allowed to get wet. Nice short hair equals no hassle.  I won't have to worry about it getting tangled or to dirty, and it is short enough that I might just be able to wash it in the sink! Low maintained is a most when recovering from surgery.

Aaaah! Can you see all my freckles returning in a giant blotch?

I really like the back.

About mid way through my trip to the mall I could start to feel my leg acting up, and I was really glad to arrive back home, but the pain was worth the independence and alone time. I also browsed around for a really tiny backpack. I don't know yet what the deal is with the IV antibiotics, but I wanted to know were I could get my mom to buy an inexpensive and small but still nice backpack to carry around if I have to carry the antibiotics with my. No luck, but I think they have some at the bigger mall (I really dislike that mall).
The waiting is getting shorter. Only six more sleeps!

Almost There!

Six days until surgery! and only 148 hours until I leave for the hospital; 152 until the surgery itself! Hurray! O.k. I know this is overdoing it, but I have been waiting for this for nine month now, and as afraid as I am of surgery and its risks, and the dreaded PICC line, I am also ready to get this over with.

I have one big concern which I do not know if my doctors have been completely truthful about. I have been on 4000mg of antibiotics every day for the last nine month, and am about to start IV antibiotics, most likely combined with, and then followed by more oral antibiotics. The doctors have said that this will not effect my immune system. However, I have had a cold for several months, one that just won't go away (alas, it was not allergies to the hay I feed my guinea pigs, although that does seem to have contributed to the severity of things). I think it is finally going away, which would be great just before surgery! How can they tell me that, what is likely to be at least a whole year of antibiotics, won't effect my immune system? Perhaps I will press them a bit harder when I have surgery.

On a lighter note (cause the last few posts have had heavier content), my mom and I were joking today about me finding a boyfriend. I told her that I should just ask my Infectious Disease specialist if she is working with any hot, 20-some-odd year guy who has a bone infection. That way we could at least have adjoining hospital rooms, if not beds! Hell, we would have enough in common as my wonderful friend Beth said when I told her. She said we (this hypothetical man and I) would have more understanding for one another than anyone else!

When (I refuse to use the word if at the moment) I am better I should write a post about all the best and funniest experiences I had through this ordeal.  For now, I am almost there, just a little bit more waiting.

I should note that this was posted on Thursday just after 1:00am, but blogger is making it seem like I posted this late Wednesday night. That is why I am saying six days (especially since I will probably sleep until 3:00pm) and note seven.

Bravery, Expectations, and Pity Not Allowed

Did you know that I was scared, when you told me how courageous you thought I was? People keep telling me that I am brave. But I am only trying to survive, just like everybody else. Do you know that I am still afraid, regardless of how much I have been through?

I find it degrading when you tell me that I am brave. Many people have this idea, this misconception, that going through hardships teaches people how to behave admirably. I am not interested in learning how to live, nor gaining people's respect and admiration. No, I am far more concerned with trying to get my life back so that I can live.

When you tell me that I am brave, you are telling me that you have expectations you wish me to live up to. There are all these things you ask of me, which in all honesty, you have no right to ask. I will not wake up and set out to do things I do not have the energy for. I can not walk through the pain. And I refuse to put on a smile so that people do not feel uncomfortable around me. If you expect great things from me while I am ill, you will be greatly disappointed.

I don't know if what I just wrote makes sense to anyone reading it...it does to me and I suppose the point of this blog was to document my experiences. If the documentation seems confusing, that's because the experience is. But, let me try again. There are two things with people, in relation to my bone infection, that I have a problem with.

One. People tell me that I am brave, and I can't stand it. Being brave implies that I am doing something, preferably by choice. I am not choosing to do anything other than listening to my doctors tell me that what they propose could cure me. I am not choosing to have a positive attitude and to fight. You can not fight a bone infection, you can just hope that antibiotics and surgery work. With being brave come expectations e.g. being patient, walking through the pain (both literally and figuratively), not letting myself get down, always looking on the bright side. I could go on and on. When people call me brave, courageous, fill in the blank as you choose, they expect certain behavior. When I do not live up to that behavior, I let those people down. To be a good patient, I cannot show how sick or exhausted I feel, because it means giving in. As if my recovery is 100% based on my attitude, that if I do not smile I will not get better. I am told that I cannot show that I am ill, and I find that very degrading because, well, being ill has become part of who I am. Would you tell a cancer patient on chemo to run a marathon, or a paraplegic to get up and walk a mile? No? Well, it is also inappropriate to expect someone with a bone infection in their tibia to do the same.  But not only do I let people down when I cannot meet their expectations but, I also provide them with something to degrade. The whole point of being ill is being ill. To tell me that I have to behave as if I am not ill when I am denies my my right to express how I feel. Being brave implies maintaining your dignity, but that is the one thing you do not have when you are chronically ill and needing surgery. Would you feel dignified if, at 19,  you had to get a sponge bath from you mother? Me neither. If you cannot accept me how I am, sick, then you should have no expectations of me. The point - do not call me brave; I cannot live up to the expectations and I feel that it degrades me. 

Two. I am not your source of entertainment, and I am not something to be pitied. I had friends. People who still contact me, but only to find out how I am doing in regards to my bone infection. They do not care if I am enjoying my university classes, or how well I have gotten playing a new song on my piano. They are not people who will come to the hospital with me, or send me encouraging messages. These people are not my friends anymore. I do not accept their flimsy comments. These are the people who always try to relate what I am going through to themselves. The ones who feel they know exactly what I am going through because they once twisted their ankle and were on crutches for a week. I actually had a friend once who told me she knew exactly what I was going on because she once feared she would need surgery. She had hurt her knee and was angry that her doctor who, after ordering an MRI, said the best remedy was to stay off the leg for a few weeks, which she promptly decided not to do, and not surgery. Months later she says her knee is fine. I am getting ready for my fourth surgery, after six years of being ill. I really don't think she understood. The thing is, the people I know who are healthy seem to want to be ill, as if it is cool, an easy way to get attention and sympathy. I am ill, and those are some of the last things I want.

One final comment that I feel the need to share. Some of the people I know think that bone infections are not serious. They say nasty things to me, and tell me I am over exaggerating. Its like if you don't have something serious like cancer or kidney failure, people won't accept that you are ill.  Well, I have been ill for six years. I have spent an unknown amount of time on crutches, limping around, and not being able to do the things I want to. I have experienced extreme bone pain and know what it is to be completely exhausted.  I have slept 16 hours straight, woken up, and gone back to bed several hours later. I have had way to much blood work and a wide variety of scans, painful surgeries, and bone chiseled out of my leg. I have had pus pockets, edema, sequestrums, and bone fragments randomly come out of my shin. And at the moment, almost all the people I know who have just finished treatment for a bone infection are finding out that treatment did not work, and that the bone infection is still there.

I do not want to be brave. I do not care about you expectations. I certainly will not accept your pity. I am ill and I am afraid, and I just though that you should know that.

Waiting with Plutarch and Suetonius

Waiting. Waiting is fun when you have to read Plutarch and Suetonius. Throw a bit of Appian in the mix and your golden! Except when you have to write an essay when your are done reading, and I really don't want to write this essay. It is about the Triumphs of Julius Caesar, and the reading is really quite interesting, but I still can't motivate myself to write. The thing is, this essay was due on February 17th. Ya, I know... this is majorly  over do. The wonder of having a bone infection is that you always feel like you have been smooshed by a piano falling from the umptenth floor, which means that you get all the extensions for university assignments that your little heart could ever desire. The goal is that you will feel better several weeks after the assignments is due, and then write it so it is over and done with. But if things don't go the way you want them to, as is what happened to me, you don't feel better. It's not that you don't intend to write the essay, because for all intensive purposes that desire is there, but on the odd occasion were you do feel semi-good, you get so excited that you go and do something that actually is fun. But now I am stuck. Classes have ended and the end of the term is speeding towards me like a run away freight train , and I have to write this paper while surgery is looming ahead of me. I don't really want surgery, I don't think anyone does, but I know that I need it which makes me kind of want it, if that makes any sense. However, to get to surgery I have to write this essay, and I really think essays are to much of a bother to give any attention to. I am also stuck in anther as aspect. I am a good student, And excellent student. My marks are to die for. Literally, they are that good. But I have this horrible fear of failure. If I don't write the essay, I will fail but I will fail because I couldn't be bothered to complete the assignment. Vs. If I do complete the assignment there is the possibility of failure. The kicker is that if you follow the instructions there is no way to get below 70%. The whole thing is in my head! But I digress.

The main point of this post was to describe what will happen during surgery. Its really straightforward in my opinion. From what I was told, the surgeon will open part of previous incision site. He will use x rays during surgery and my latest MRI and CT scans to determine were the dead bone is, and take it, along with any suspicious looking tissue out. He will keep his fingers crossed that the bone doesn't break. If it does, things turn in a whole new direction e.g. external fixation, so I am really hoping that doesn't happen. The dilemma is as followed: the surgeon has to take out all of the dead bone, and by that I mean all, otherwise the infection won't go away. In order to do so, he also needs to take out a bit extra to create what he calls a "bleeding bone'. This means that the living bone is 'exposed'. The bone will think it needs to heal itself, so will fill in the space left by the bone taken out. It also means that the IV antibiotics will reach the necessary places. As the surgeon said "The goal is to kill the infection from both ends - with the patch in the leg, and through the IV antibiotics. The tricky part is knowing how much bone to take out. Take out to little and the dead stuff will be left behind which means I won't get better, but take out to much and the bone breaks. I won't know the results until after I wake up in the post-op recovery room. After all the dead bone and tissue is gone, the surgeon will put in an antibiotic patch, which will dissolve on its own over the course of several weeks, and then close me back up. If all goes as planned I will do six weeks of IV antibiotics and then maybe a few months of oral antibiotics, and the bone will regrow and all will be done with.

I was a bit bummed out this morning, when I woke up at five am to get a glass of water. I kept thinking, if surgery hadn't been rescheduled, I would have been in the car on the way to the hospital by now. I was joking about all the medical stuff with my mom earlier this afternoon. I said that if I was awaiting something fun, like going to an amusement park or on holiday, waiting a week would not be so bad. I would have another week to anticipate all the fun things I would do. But with surgery, it is about getting it over as soon as possible for me. Although it is an interesting experience, I could really do without it. Hopefully the time in between now and the 18th flies by quickly, not that time ever changes, cause, you know, its time! I can't wait to get on with my life once all of this is over in a few months =)

Abhoring Boris

"You shall not pass!" That is what Boris is yelling at me. He is telling me that I will not get rid of him; I will not complete my task in annihilating him!

Today started off better than most days do, and that's really saying something. Take what is a really bad day for you e.g. having the flu, or, getting soaked in the rain, missing your bus, forgetting you essay due in class, stepping in dog poop, missing another bus and then losing twenty bucks before you finally make it home only to find out your in laws are coming to visit for two weeks, and imagine feeling that bad for months on end and you end up feeling what I usually feel like every day. My good days are likely the equivalent of your so-so or mildly bad days. So you can imagine that I usually feel pretty blah. You can also imagine that on a day like today when I wake feeling good, yes, good which is much better than so-so, I am ecstatic. Why?

1) It is the final week of classes... who could be unhappy about that? I am a nerd and even I am excited!
2) The sun was shining beautifully through my window, bathing my room in soft orange glow. Really takes me back to my childhood when I would visit my oma and opa in Alblasserdam.
3) It is warm enough for my window to be open, which allows me to hear the birds singing outside. A better sound than even my piano, and I love my piano!
4) The cold which has been plaguing me (No, I do not actually have the plague), for the last two months is almost gone. It turns out is was never a cold at all. I am actually allergic to the hay I feed my guinea pigs, Luna and Lumen. If you are into Harry Potter and Dexter, you will get the names and how extremely nerdy I am. Two months ago I switched hay brands to save a few bucks. However,the new brand was of worse quality...ie, really dusty. Which has been causing my sniffles. I simply switched back to the old brand and my runny nose went away... as well as all the itching! and least but definitely most important (drum roll... heck, throw in an entire marching band please
5) Surgery was only a week away!

Not even the strike at the university could phase me, or the fact it would cause me to take extra time to get to barely populated classes. I had just showered and dressed and was finishing doing my hair when my mom called me from her room. The hospital had called. My surgery date has been mover from April 10 to April 18. I know that is is only an extra week, but when you have been ill for 6 years even this seems too much. After 8 1/2 months of antibiotics I am tired, exhausted, cold, shivery, fed up to here (miles into the sky). I had been waiting for this date, knowing it would eventually come for 9 months, slowly preparing everything. But I guess everything that has so neatly been arranged by the hospital could be undone even faster. Forget that I was going to get a PICC line the morning of, that I was going to meet my home nurse for the first time several days after surgery, the I was going to have the dead bone taken out of my tibia, that I went to all my appointments and got all the tests and scans done as asked. It could all be changed by someone who has, which I say with 99.371% accuracy, never had a bone infection. I think it is fair to say that I was more than slightly pissed. I burst into tears. It made me miserable. It made me have to re plan the nest two weeks of my life. First world problems I know... but 6 bloody years... so I do feel a sense of entitlement to this surgery. I understand and respect that there are reasons, unknown to me, for why surgery was canceled, but I am still a bit down hearted.

I am also really abhorring Boris. (Get the word play there...I am such a nerd!). According to Google, to abhor means to regard with disgust and hatred. It is a word interchangeable with detest, loath, abominate, despise. Oh! and let's not forget my favorite - execrate. Boris needs to GTFO, but he is being a tough little bugger. I am going to wager he is eve worse than the plague. The force is strong with this bone infection, and I don't think leaving him in my leg for an extra week will do anyone except him any good. I hope the IV antibiotics when I finally start them in two weeks after surgery, kick his a** all the way to Serbia.

And that was my monologue (I mean rant for the day). I thank you for listening (*reading*) and wish you all a good night. Bow, as the curtain closes.






Sticks head out of curtain, peeking out. Ahem, that was your cue to leave! Don't make me get management!.