Like medieval torture

No fluff in today's post. As scheduled, I had an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon last Friday. There was a lot to talk about, many questions to ask and, of course, the dotted line to sign. Take away from the appointment - my ex fix surgery should be in a few weeks (hoping for the end of October, if fixators are a thing you can actually hope to get), about a month earlier than expected. I won't get into the details of the appointment tonight as I am still trying to absorb some of what was said and come to terms with it. I will say that I am not thrilled about the fixator.

In all honesty, the whole concept of external fixation reminds me of medieval torture. Seriously. A metal rod shoved down my tibia, four thick pins screwed into the bone, sticking through my skin and attached to a giant piece of metal outside my body. And for what? Slowly pulling the ends of my bone apart to tempt it to regrow itself. Sounds a lot like the rack to me. You know, that medieval torture device used to pull people's limbs apart... Except instead of some grade a prick pulling my joints apart, it will be me pulling my own bones apart twice a day.

I know that the fixator is a good thing despite how ugly it will look sticking out of my leg. I know that it is not really torture, and lots of people have told me the pain is manageable. And I know that the hardest part will be psychologically getting used to the damn thing sticking out of my leg. But the concept still seems like torture to me. Who on earth ever though "Hmm, what if we stuck some pins through that chaps skin and screw them into his bones? Maybe that will fix him..."

I want to be back to normal so badly, and I know that the fixator will help me get back to everyday life. It is probably my only option at this point. So I do want the fixator or at least the result at the end of the fixator process. But on the other hand, it really scares me. It requires handing all control over to my surgeon, trusting him completely. And doing that scares me. Don't get me wrong; I have complete faith in my surgeon's expertise. But trusting somebody with your ability to walk, to lead a normal life, is not so easy. And I think that a larger part of the problem is my lack of confidence in my body's own ability to heal itself. If it had done that in 2012, I wouldn't be here to begin with. So on that level I don't want the fixator at all. I don't want my body to fail me. I just want to get better.

And that is kind of my rant for tonight. Now that I have vented, I feel a bit better. I am just going to take it a day (or a cup of tea) at a time. I will get the fixator whenever I get it. No sense in driving myself crazy worrying about it right now. And on the plus side, I will be given loads of narcotics, which is a decent consolation prize given the circumstances. Time to curl up in bed now, under a mountain of blankets and pillow, with a magazine and my MP3 player.