I did not expect my appointment with the orthopedist today — my first in well over a year — to end in minor surgery, but I think I’m glad it did.
The tibial tubercal transfer surgery that I had in the fall of 2007 left me with two long titanium screws through my leg bone below the knee, one of which has been incrementally extracting itself right out the front of my leg. I haven’t been able to kneel since the surgery, which is frustrating on top of my other problems, and makes for some very dirty floors. Worse is the fact that even a minor tap against the skin-covered metal sends me into paroxysms of pain, and in my chronic clumsiness I usually manage to slam it into something two or three times a day.
Now that two-inch screw is sitting here in an envelope. Jak, whom I’d dragged with me to the doctor, made some joke about going out for coffee during the extraction so he didn’t have to hear me scream.
This, incidentally, was over a hastily-procured pomegranate martini at a nearby restaurant. We had just under an hour between my original appointment and the impromptu screw-removal — not enough time to fill a Vicodin prescription, so I opted for ‘vodkadin’ instead.
I glared at him for even joking about abandoning me, and insisted that I would not either scream. I’ve endured a great deal of pain in my life and had high confidence in my teeth-gritting abilities.
I was wrong. My shriek of “SHIT!” reverberated throughout the office, and I belatedly understood why they wanted this to be the last appointment of the day.
Still, it was over relatively quickly — perhaps five minutes, all told. The doctor estimated I’d just saved three thousand dollars over an operating room procedure with general anesthetic, so I figure it was worth it.
We’ll see how complacent I am later, when the local anesthetic wears off …