Ligament, tendon, cartilage, bone. Not that long ago, these four body parts worked together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the crash landings attacked. Only the surgeon, master of all four anatomical features, could repair them. And when the meniscus needed him most, he appeared.
I’ve gotten used to giving fairly rote answers when doctors ask about my medical history, so that’s a bummer. But as far as surgeries go, minor meniscus repair has been a comparative cakewalk. Made that much easier by Mom coming in to help me get around the first couple days afterwards 🙂
They had me write “yes” on my left knee and “no” on my right. I don’t envy the doctors who messed up badly enough that this became standard practice.
During surgery prep, the anesthesiologist came in and explained his part in the procedure. I’d be given a gas mask to feed my lungs pure oxygen, to purge all the nitrogen. This would be necessary because the next thing they do is stop my breathing – the general anesthesia is potent enough that the diaphragm stops working, so for the minute or so between when that happens and when they can get me intubated, I’m operating on whatever oxygen my blood was carrying when I went under.
I asked him, hypothetically, what happens if they can’t get me intubated once the clock starts ticking. He replied saying, essentially, that’s what they pay him for, to make sure that doesn’t happen.
They escorted me into the surgery room, carrying the bag of saline attached to my arm. After I laid down they got me started on a light anesthetic, just to help me chill out while they got me on oxygen. I could feel the buzz coming on, was fascinated at its effects on cognition, and then I was groggily coming to in the recovery room.
Having mom around was a treat. I usually eat much better when she’s in town 🙂 Plus we got to deal with my bum knee at the same time as we were preparing for a harbinger of armageddon. We had originally planned on spending the heat wave up in Whidbey Island, away from the worst of it. However, after hauling up a portable AC unit I’d picked up last year just in case and seeing how effective it was, we decided we could rough it in town.
All fans deployed. 
I spent one night upstairs and thought better of it, so we set up the other mattress.
We did manage to get away for a trip up through Whidbey Island just prior to the arrival of record temperatures. Last time Mom went through it was a blustery October day, so this was a bit of a nicer experience.
I went back for a post-op visit where I asked the doctor to elaborate more on just what was done, since I was a bit high for the after-action report in the recovery room. I also took the chance to ask him what was up with the bruising and discoloration on the side of my knee. He explained that when they were trying to separate the parts of my knee so they could get a camera and knife in there, there was one particular tendon that was quite stiff. So they perforated it a bunch, until it was all stretchy. No problem, he said, it’ll heal along with everything else. Well okay then.
Never a dull moment in the HOA. The Architectural Control Committee came down hard on the former HOA president for putting up astroturf on top of a sewer easement. The former president is having none of it. I and the other board member get to be the go-between and remain friendly with both parties. Good times.
Life is getting back to normal here – I think Mom arrived one week too early to enjoy the lifting of mask mandates. Headed out to a movie with a friend, and saw the new Fast & Furious movie, F9. My sentiments mirror those of Stanley Hudson, who I paraphrase:
Every scene they do something stupider than they did the scene before. And I think, there’s no possible way they can top that. But what do they do? They find a way, dang it, to top it! This movie is a professional plot hole.
I think I wanna go back and watch Fast Five, when things made sense.
