What a Week: The Operation

Tuesday brought change for the country and my knee. I had a very light breakfast – coffee and two bites of a Cliff Bar – at 5:30 a.m. When 734’s Dad picked me up at 12:30 p.m., I felt pretty good with the exception of wearing my super-thick glasses with the scratched up lenses. Wore my mom's shirt and sweat pants.

After I plunked down enough for 2/3 of a Cervelo P2C, they led me back to pre-op at 1:30 p.m. The nurses were great. I met a nurse who grew up in the next town over from me and also wanted to do the Boston Marathon in a bad way. We compared notes and times.

The wait was long. I was supposed to go in at 2:30 p.m. for the half-hour surgery. I was still waiting at 3:45 p.m. Worried that 734’s Dad would start worrying, I had one of the nurses call him. She invited him back to keep me company. Perfect timing. The soft rock music seemed to be getting louder and louder. He helped drown it out. He was so upbeat and supportive.

Then the anesthesiologist breezed in with a needle. “Here are the two margaritas you’ve been waiting for,” he said as he injected some medicine into the IV. 734’s Dad laughed, “This is what I wanted to see. This should be good!” He asked the anesthesiologist, “Hey, did you guys work on Farmar?” “We sure did!” he replied. Yeah, we thought so. Psyched.

I didn’t feel buzzed, but don’t remember much about that time before the surgery other than the mask coming over my face. I woke up with crackers in one hand and a Sprite in the other which still perplexes me to this day. I swear I woke up with crackers in my mouth. That recovery nurse was good. She showed me some pictures of the surgery. Couldn’t explain it all, but showed me a big honkin’ piece of cartilage that was removed. Yay.

I was wheeled outside where 734’s Dad was waiting with the car. He drove me home fast, but took it easy on the corners. I was a little woozy. He helped me upstairs and into bed and propped up my leg. We watched the inauguration festivities on TV together the rest of the night. I was totally in and out of it. I’ll never forget how he whispered in my ear, “Do you want to see Michelle Obama’s dress?” “Oh, yeah!” I said semiconscious. That perked me up! After a couple of hours, he spoon-fed me small bites of chicken intermittently until my appetite returned. Just in time for the Percaset. Then he set the alarm for 2:15 a.m. for the next dose.