So, as you may have noticed from last week’s post, I’m able to write again, and much sooner than I’d anticipated. My assumption was that I was going to be in a splint after my hand surgery, perhaps for upwards of months (thus my interest in voice dictation software). However, literally the day after surgery, I got a call from the hospital attempting to book me for physio two days later. Because I was in a cast I didn’t know what “physio” was to be done (see photo below).
When I arrived, the physiotherapist looked at my cast and then took a pair of scissors and said “So, let’s take a look at your hand…” which caught me by surprise. This is where I should probably go into the surgery itself, three days before. I was asked to show up for 8am that morning. It was cool and dark out (hello, late October) and I was dressed appropriately for the occasion, which basically was track pants, a loose pullover, a hoodie and wearing glasses. Normally I wear contact lenses but I knew this probably wouldn’t be a good idea given that I was going to be put under for the procedure. They’re an older pair of glasses and I don’t wear them out very often…and sure enough, just steps from the hospital, as I removed the hood from my hoodie, my glasses slipped down my nose and fell onto the sidewalk, breaking into two hinged monocles. And it might as well have been my spirit that broke. My prescription is strong, which suddenly rendered the world a smeared blur of strange shapes moving around me as I picked the pieces of my glasses up and entered the hospital in a state of despair. I held one half of them against my face, feeling terribly awkward…and terribly vulnerable being in this strange environment, on the verge of having major surgery.
Once the staff directed me to a pre-op area where I was required to change into a gown, to my frustration I realized–despite the nurses kindly providing me with tape–that the frame had broken at an awkward place on the bridge, which made re-attaching them nearly impossible without their collapsing soon after. I’m not too proud to say that I nearly had a fucking breakdown as I futilely tried to restore some semblance of my vision. And all of the pent-up anxiety I’d been holding around the surgery for months, around the potential outcome, around what my life was going to look like while in recovery came to the surface. I should say that the pre-op nurse who noticed my freak-out was very helpful and empathetic (she shared that her prescription was much worse than mine; she’d had laser surgery).
I can do pain. I’ve done pain. But the intimidation of the procedure–the not-knowing–was overwhelming as they wheeled me into surgery. When I woke up and saw the cast, and realized my arm was completely limp as a result of the anaesthetic, it was a lot to work with.
So, just days later, when the physiotherapist began cutting it off, revealing my stitched up palm and thumb, the blood that soaked the bandage she was removing, I was overcome with emotion. “Are you going to be sick?” she asked in a practised way as I stared at the absolutely gory Frankenstein result. I shook my head, instead looking at the box of facial tissue on the counter, holding back tears of a strange mix of shock and grief. Showing great care she proceeded to go through the exercises I was supposed to do, which involved stretching my fingers inward (which would also put stress on the ligaments and muscles, my palm held together with sutures), and told me that I had to do these every two hours. She encouraged me to use the hand regularly (or as regularly as I could manage), including things such as shampooing my hair, brushing my teeth, etc.
So, typing that last post was basically part of my physio. My hand is getting better and the stitches will be coming out in the next week, however I still struggle to look at my palm, the loose skin, and yes, I struggle to stretch and bend my hand for fear that I’m going to rupture something. It’s a body horror thing, basically.
That said, I’ve got a new pair of glasses now.
