It's Just a Broken Ankle- Part Two
I started Monday morning anxious, tired, in pain, and really scared. Scared of what the Orthepedic Surgeon was going to tell me, scared to find out how long I would be laid up, but mostly scared they were going to hurt me. In hopes I would be able to have surgery the same day, I skipped breakfast- I'm not a fan of Murphy's Law.
When we arrived at Kaiser they wanted to x-ray my ankle again. The concern was since it had been five days, most likely my original x-rays taken in the Emergency Room were obsolete due to bone movement. I understood that perfectly because I had felt my bones cracking and moving over the past 5 days. Terrifying cracking and movement to be exact. I knew it wasn't good when the x-ray tech groaned as she looked at my films. Tony took a peek at them as well and said "You blew your ankle up."
Turns out the original diagnosis of a Bimalleolar Fracture in the ER was incorrect. The correct diagnosis was a Trimalleolar Fracture, broken at the ends of the tibia, fibia, and talus bone. It's the tri-fecta of bone breaks. In addition, the Doctor thought it was dislocated as well. Because there was broken bone pieces covering the ankle joint in the x-ray film they couldn't tell for sure. The next step was they needed to set the bones and re x -ray to see if they could see the joint better. They needed to make sure everything was back in place so the swelling would go down for surgery sometime next week.
"What do you mean by set my bones?" I was panicked. "I'll be asleep for that right?" I knew the answer was no and tears started running down my face. They were going to give me a local injection into my ankle to "numb" the joint. I would be awake and it would be painful and well I just need to be tough. Yeah, ok. They unwrapped the splint the ER had put on five days earlier. I didn't have any expectations as to how my foot would look, but I wasn't prepaired for what I saw. Swollen, bruised, and a huge blister from where the bone was rubbing against my skin. Horrific. There would be no surgery that day.
I was worried about hearing the bones crack when they set them and asked if I could wear the headphones they had hanging in the room for when they use the saw to cut off casts. "Sure. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." Waking up out of this bad dream would have been the only thing to make me feel comfortable at this point so I put on the headphones and grabbed Tony's hand.
I was asked to sit with both legs dangling in front of me off the examination table. Just the move from laying down to sitting up hurt my ankle. How is he going to touch it and move it? The technician did what he had to do and I barely survived. His setting my ankle by moving the broken bones back into place hurt more than when I broke it 5 days earlier. He was doing his very best to help me and all I could do was scream.
They rolled me into my second x-ray and again the x-ray technician groaned. Uh-oh. The good news was my broken bones were set perfectly. The really bad news was my ankle was out of joint and they needed to put it back in, manually. While I sat in the hall sobbing, the nurse explained what was going to happen. All I heard was " painful ". They hooked my leg up to a pole, hanging by a stretchy sock, and waited to see if gravity alone would pop it back into place. No such luck. So with a very strong force, the doctor pushed and pulled on my ankle joint. More screams. Unlike setting the bones earlier, the joint would not pop back in. Since it sat out of socket for 5 days, it wasn't popping back in that easy. By this time, the decision was made to put me under anesthesia, pop the joint back in and drill an external fixation device into my bone for stability until surgery. It would be my first time under anesthesia.
My surgeon visited me in pre op to chat about the minor surgery he would preform after putting my ankle back into place. He was installing an external fixation device that would be drilled into my bones to hold everything in place. The good thing was my ankle would be stable so no more moving bones. It would also help the swelling go down (coupled with 23 hour a day bed rest to elevate my ankle). He was hopeful I could have the main surgery next Thursday or Friday. Worst case scenario if the swelling didn't go down, I could spend the next 6-8 weeks in the external fixation device to heal but it wouldn't be ideal. He promised he would cover my ankle with gauze so I wouldn't have to look at it and I wouldn't scare off small children. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled into the operating room.
I woke up from surgery in the post op room to excruciating pain. I had been dreaming I was in pain too. The nurse told me everything went well and would give me IV pain meds right away. I think he really felt bad for me because he kind of overdosed me a little with Dilaudid. Alarms started going off on my monitor. I stopped breathing. "Honey, you're not breathing, you need to take a deep breath." I was confused, of course I was breathing. "Take a deep breath." I had to focus on my breathing. He's right, I'm not breathing. I took a deep breath. "Phew, you had me worried."
"Can I have more pain medication since I'm breathing now?"
Turns out the original diagnosis of a Bimalleolar Fracture in the ER was incorrect. The correct diagnosis was a Trimalleolar Fracture, broken at the ends of the tibia, fibia, and talus bone. It's the tri-fecta of bone breaks. In addition, the Doctor thought it was dislocated as well. Because there was broken bone pieces covering the ankle joint in the x-ray film they couldn't tell for sure. The next step was they needed to set the bones and re x -ray to see if they could see the joint better. They needed to make sure everything was back in place so the swelling would go down for surgery sometime next week.
"What do you mean by set my bones?" I was panicked. "I'll be asleep for that right?" I knew the answer was no and tears started running down my face. They were going to give me a local injection into my ankle to "numb" the joint. I would be awake and it would be painful and well I just need to be tough. Yeah, ok. They unwrapped the splint the ER had put on five days earlier. I didn't have any expectations as to how my foot would look, but I wasn't prepaired for what I saw. Swollen, bruised, and a huge blister from where the bone was rubbing against my skin. Horrific. There would be no surgery that day.
I was worried about hearing the bones crack when they set them and asked if I could wear the headphones they had hanging in the room for when they use the saw to cut off casts. "Sure. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." Waking up out of this bad dream would have been the only thing to make me feel comfortable at this point so I put on the headphones and grabbed Tony's hand.
I was asked to sit with both legs dangling in front of me off the examination table. Just the move from laying down to sitting up hurt my ankle. How is he going to touch it and move it? The technician did what he had to do and I barely survived. His setting my ankle by moving the broken bones back into place hurt more than when I broke it 5 days earlier. He was doing his very best to help me and all I could do was scream.
They rolled me into my second x-ray and again the x-ray technician groaned. Uh-oh. The good news was my broken bones were set perfectly. The really bad news was my ankle was out of joint and they needed to put it back in, manually. While I sat in the hall sobbing, the nurse explained what was going to happen. All I heard was " painful ". They hooked my leg up to a pole, hanging by a stretchy sock, and waited to see if gravity alone would pop it back into place. No such luck. So with a very strong force, the doctor pushed and pulled on my ankle joint. More screams. Unlike setting the bones earlier, the joint would not pop back in. Since it sat out of socket for 5 days, it wasn't popping back in that easy. By this time, the decision was made to put me under anesthesia, pop the joint back in and drill an external fixation device into my bone for stability until surgery. It would be my first time under anesthesia.
My surgeon visited me in pre op to chat about the minor surgery he would preform after putting my ankle back into place. He was installing an external fixation device that would be drilled into my bones to hold everything in place. The good thing was my ankle would be stable so no more moving bones. It would also help the swelling go down (coupled with 23 hour a day bed rest to elevate my ankle). He was hopeful I could have the main surgery next Thursday or Friday. Worst case scenario if the swelling didn't go down, I could spend the next 6-8 weeks in the external fixation device to heal but it wouldn't be ideal. He promised he would cover my ankle with gauze so I wouldn't have to look at it and I wouldn't scare off small children. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled into the operating room.
I woke up from surgery in the post op room to excruciating pain. I had been dreaming I was in pain too. The nurse told me everything went well and would give me IV pain meds right away. I think he really felt bad for me because he kind of overdosed me a little with Dilaudid. Alarms started going off on my monitor. I stopped breathing. "Honey, you're not breathing, you need to take a deep breath." I was confused, of course I was breathing. "Take a deep breath." I had to focus on my breathing. He's right, I'm not breathing. I took a deep breath. "Phew, you had me worried."
"Can I have more pain medication since I'm breathing now?"
Definitely not for the squeamish. Look for pink elephants and purple unicorns.
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