Just What I Kneeded

What happens after a life-altering knee injury?

Wiggle, wiggle

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It takes me a long time to wake up from anesthesia, at least enough that I’m coherent and can recall what’s going on. But theoretically, I’m supposed to be awake from anesthesia before I even leave the OR. Which means there are hours of my life that I don’t remember. And it’s these hours that I worry about. What did I say? Did I make a fool of myself? Did I share some deep, dark secret? Did I blab the nickname that I have for my doctor?

I know, because I was told afterwards, that I’ve spent quality time talking about how we should ask my hot neighbor to help me into the house once we left the surgery center. I also (apparently) just randomly got up off the couch the night after one surgery, danced while singing the “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah” part of LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It,” and crashed back on the couch dead asleep. After my first knee surgery, I (apparently) decided that I’d be ready to compete in a triathlon in 5 months time. I have no recollection of agreeing to that, but I totally smoked that triathlon. Ok, not really, but I did complete it because I couldn’t bear to disappoint my partner in crime. Between the anesthesia and the medicine afterwards, I lost three full days of my life that time. I have absolutely no recollection of those days; I’ve just been filled in on some of the loose details after the fact.

It’s really not helpful that I have a YouTube obsession because I’ve definitely watched after surgery videos, and the people are just cray-cray. I can hardly tell if it’s their true reaction or they know they’re being filmed and are trying to be funny. I think there’s some of both, but they’re all just so ridiculous. At least this kid sounds like he’s having a good time.

I’d be completely embarrassed if I acted like that in public, but I think it’s even worse if I did or said something stupid and no one told me. I keep hoping that I’m just too nauseous to say anything at all in recovery–I usually wake up with a vomit bag in my hand, so I think this is feasible. If I’ve said anything, it’s whatever it took to get that bag. And I have enough sense to ban cameras from my room. No pictures or video allowed! I don’t want proof of any ridiculousness.

The last time I had surgery, my nurse was leading us back to the pre-op room when we met my surgeon coming off the elevator. I could hardly stop laughing when the nurse leaned against the wall and said, “He’s just so cute! He’s like a teddy bear. I just love him!” Perhaps it was due in part to my nerves, but I thought that was the funniest thing I’d ever heard. We kept joking about it all during the prep. When I woke up in recovery, I was all types of worried that I said something about the teddy bear when I wasn’t quite yet coherent. The nurses, though, they won’t tell you what you’ve said. So it’s still a mystery to me.

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Author: Laura

I have a fern I named Frankenstein. I like leprechauns, practicing kung fu moves on my dining room furniture, and pretending that one day I will move to Fiji. I dislike my neighbors' kids, anything that is chartreuse, and Ben Roethlisberger.

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