Surgery, Part I

So! I’m back home from the hospital where I just spent two nights. Surgery was totally new to me (except for my wisdom teeth in the States which was totally different) so I thought I’d post about it.

Last April, about when I went home to Texas for vacation, I decided that my feet hurt too much on a regular basis, despite the orthotics, to not go to an orthopedist and think about doing something more drastic, after all these years (six years to be exact). But I still put off the visit a little, deciding to try an osteopath to see if that could help (it didn’t, though I think it was good for my back and neck). Then there was the step where I had to go to my general practitioner for the reference. I finally called mid-July for an appointment with the orthopedist and got one for the end of August.

The orthopedist was very nice, seemed very competent, and said immediately that there was no reason to wait any longer to operate, that I’d been trying to solve the problem with other methods for too long, in short. He said to call to set up the operation about two months before I wanted it, and that it would put me out of work for four to six weeks (though, if I worked at a job with less standing and walking, I could have gone back sooner).

I called a few days later and asked for something at the end of November. I told my boss and my secretary immediately, so they knew the week of the rentrée in September. They found a substitute for me over the Toussaint vacation whom I met with last week in order to catch her up on all my classes. I gave her my current and following unit plans so that she can stick to what I planned as much as possible. I told the students the day we got back from the Toussaint vacation and told them why, because J suspected they would make up different, more dire reasons (“She’s dying of cancer!!”) if I didn’t tell them it was foot surgery, which, of course, I don’t mind telling them because I think there’s nothing more banal than that.

When I got my “convocation” for the 21st of November, I also got a note telling me to call the anesthesiologist at the end of September. I got an appointment for November 9th, which lasted about 10 minutes, because I have no medical history and I don’t smoke. At the end of the appointment, they told me not to forget to go downstairs and reserve my room. Good thing they “reminded” me because I had no idea I had to do it! With my convocation I also got a prescription for a post-surgical shoe, a note to bring crutches, and a prescription for a pre-surgery antiseptic. I went to the pharmacy in our little village for these things (except the crutches, with J already had) and they had to order the funny shoe for me.

Up till my entry into the hospital, my employers just had to take my word for it that I’d be gone, and that seemed pretty normal. I never showed them my convocation or anything.

Upcoming: Part II, The Actual Operation

(I mean, not that actual operation, as I was asleep for that, but you know…)


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