Wednesday, December 18, 2024
On Sunday, I completely ruptured by right Achilles tendon. (Read Sometimes, You Break Yourself…Again for that story.) Today, my surgeon repaired it. This is my reflection of the ordeal.
I saw the orthopedist on Monday afternoon. He listened to my story, watched the video of the event, and said “yup, that’s how it happens.” He did a quick Thompson test to check for communication between my calf muscle and my heel. There was none. He didn’t even need an MRI. After 25 years of practice, he knew.
He suggested the best course of action, particularly with my activity level, would be surgery. I agreed 1000% and said “When can we get this done?” He had an opening Wednesday. On my way out, I’d talk with his surgical scheduler and work out the details.
Of course, on my way out, she was at lunch. I was told she’d call me when she returned. Never a good sign.
To be proactive, I found my August blood work and sent it to the scheduler. I wanted to make things as easy as possible. I left a message on her voicemail and asked that she get back to me ASAP. But I figured, she had everything she needed, so no problem. Right?
Wrong.
The pre-op journey to hell
The surgical scheduler finally called me around 4:15 pm. She told me I needed new bloodwork and a medical clearance from my doctor. It all had to happen before the close of day on Tuesday.
WHAT???
Panicked, I called my doctor’s office and begged them for an appointment to see someone, anyone, who would see me. Problem was, even if they had an order for bloodwork, it wouldn’t be processed in time. Worse, they didn’t do labs in the office. I made the appointment for the early afternoon anyway.
I called the scheduler back to find out what options I had. Initially, she wasn’t particularly helpful. She sent me the same Stat order that she sent to my internist’s office. If I went to the local lab, maybe the results would come in on time. (Yeah, right.) But, hearing the panic/desperation/urgency in my voice, she put me on hold. She tried to get in touch with the Pre-op Admissions department at the hospital. At first, unsuccessfully. But at 4:45, she said WAIT and put me on hold again. She returned and asked if I could be at the hospital at 8 am for the required bloodwork and EKG. YES! YES I CAN!!
The marathon-sprint begins
On Tuesday, I got my daughter up bright and early to drive me to the hospital. I crutched my way through the hallways until I found the right office. We got all the required tests done and went through the paperwork and procedures for the surgery. They gave me a number for the doctor to call to get all of the results faxed to their office. (Who faxes things nowadays??) I thanked them and was on my way. Step one, done.
My mom-in-law drove me to my doc appointment. I figured, it would be quick and easy. She’d do her physical check, call the hospital to get the lab results, write my letter and send me on my way. Easy peasy, right?
WRONG.
This doctor, who I hadn’t seen in this practice before, was surly and annoyed. Somehow, she had swallowed a bitter pill about the surgeon not sending information about the surgery to her. (Actually, they had). She said, “why are they doing this to me?” (Exact words, I kid you not.) I calmly explained the situation, and gave her the surgical scheduler’s direct number. Of course no answer when she called. I offered the number I was given for the hospital secretary, and she said “Why should I call them? They should call me!” I decided to call them myself. In front of her. I asked them to fax the test results to her office. The surly doctor dictated the fax number to me.
Waiting for the fax to come through, she did her physical exam, which took all of five minutes. She went out to check the fax machine. Nothing. Apparently, her group doesn’t participate in the same communication portal as the hospital. I called the hospital secretary back. She said she would print hard copies and fax them manually.
At some point, surly doc started to bash the surgeon. She said that the medical clearance was just to cover his ass and he should have sent the information about the surgery directly to her. I sat there, dumbfounded. I could not believe how unprofessional this doctor was in front of a patient.
While we were waiting, she wrote the clearance letter in the computer. The caveat: she wouldn’t send it until she got all the test results. She sent me to checkout. I wanted to give her a few choice words, but I resisted.
At checkout, I asked them to check the fax. Apparently, there were 14 pages coming through the machine. At least one of them had my name on it. Okay. Records were transferred. Despite my unpleasant encounter with the doctor, that part was done.
Except it wasn’t. The secretary at the hospital called me to say that the EKG record wouldn’t print out and they had to have someone from IT rectify the problem. They had given me a copy of the EKG result, but I had left it at home. So, I’d try to figure out how to use my printer to send a fax.
At home, I had to figure out how to send this stupid document through an antiquated method of information transport. Let’s just say, it was a disaster. I couldn’t find the phone cord to connect to the printer. My husband was trying to talk me through it as I was slowly losing my composure. I even tried emailing it to him at work. No luck. They didn’t have a fax machine. Because, who does?
I tried calling everyone. The surgical scheduler, the doctor’s office, the hospital; all unavailable. I wanted to curse everyone in every office. I kept thinking that if the healthcare system was failing me for something as simple as this, I can’t imagine what people with real problems are dealing with. Technological problems, personality problems, communication problems. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to.
I gave up, utterly frustrated and afraid that the surgery would have to be postponed. The surgeon was going on vacation on Friday and I’d be screwed. This whole experience was bizarre. It was like none of these medical offices had ever cleared someone for a quick turnaround surgery ever before.
At 4:15 p.m., I finally received a call from the surgical scheduler: everything was done. I can relax. I’d be reporting to the hospital at 6 a.m. for a 7:30 a.m. surgery. Ten minutes later, I got the call from the hospital secretary: everything was done. I can relax.
I took a breath, sat on the couch, and stayed there until it was time to go to bed.
Surgery day
After an extensive sprinting marathon to complete pre-op requirements, I reported to the hospital at 6 am for surgery.
For two days, I had been in “figure out how to get this fixed mode.”
Now, I was laying in a hospital bed. I was about to receive a nerve block, spinal block, and the best twilight nap in the anesthesiologist’s toolkit.
There was definitely some anxiety, just because it was surgery. But I have to say, everyone at the hospital really put me at ease. And the IV Versed took the edge off, big time.
Here’s the hilarious thing. Whenever someone asked me how I did it, I told them “round-off back handspring and snap.” They’d looked at me cockeyed, then I’d show them the video.
Without fail, their eyes bugged out. They’d say how amazing it was that I was able do that (at 53) and how they can’t even do a cartwheel.
It’s like my fun, secret party trick.
Anyway, the pre-op prep was pretty standard. IV in the arm. Anti-anxiety med to prep for the nerve block. Get poked in the back a bunch for the spinal block. Lay face down on the table and prepare for the best nap ever.
Two minutes later (actually, more like 90 minutes), I opened my eyes in the recovery room. There was a cast on my foot and no feeling in either leg.
That was a WEIRD feeling. I tried wiggling my toes and flexing any muscle. NOTHING. So I just laid there, waiting for time to pass.
The surgeon gave the report to my husband. The procedure went extremely well. The rupture was higher than he expected, and he was able to successfully and firmly reattach the ends. Even better, he wrapped it all with a collagen patch to promote better healing. Once I was home, I googled that. This is what I found:
Bioinductive collagen patch augmentation of Achilles tendon repair may be a useful adjunct for myotendinous junction Achilles ruptures, particularly in high-demand patients including competitive gymnasts.
Bioinductive Collagen Implant Augmentation for Myotendinous Achilles Rupture in a Teenage Competitive Gymnast: A Case Report – PubMed
Sweet.
Moving forward
What felt great about that was that the surgeon didn’t discourage me from my gymnastics obsession. Instead, he treated his 53-year old patient for who she is: a physically active athlete. He understood that this injury was not going to stop me and repaired it with that in mind. For that, I am grateful.
As soon as I’m allowed, I will start the long road to rehab. But first, two weeks in a cast and crutches. No weight on the foot as the repair sets. I’ll have to reset my fitness routine and focus on upper body, core and maintaining my thigh strength. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.
In the meantime, I’ll be spending considerable time on the couch.
I’ll blog, find new shows to stream, and maybe make some time to read. Fortunately, I’ll be off of work through the new year. At least I’m on the other side of the surgery now.
Stacey's Headspace 
Stacey:
You are one, strong woman and I know you will do everything you
need to do ensure a speedy recovery. Will check in on you over the
weekend to see how you’re progressing.
Iris
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