I'm A Puker

Ahhh, the Pre-Op room. This room, along with the doctors, nurses, scheduling department, billing department, physical therapists, massage therapists, and pharmacists are all quickly becoming first-name-basis friends. So I'm in my bed, wearing my gown (this is all so familiar) and trying to keep my dad amused while we wait for this show to get on the road. So in walks my anesthesiologist. Although this procedure doesn't require a fully intubated-type of anesthesia, I will still be out for it. I tell him that every single drug I've ever been given, from Tylenol 3 to straight up morphine, makes me vomit. A lot. As in, in my purse I have packed bags for me to throw up in on my way home. And I ask him for some anti-nausea drugs in my IV while I'm having the procedure to prevent it. So the doctor....we'll call him Dr. Grinch, explains to me that drugs have side effects. Um, really? And that I should avoid taking them if I don't need them, and in his 394803404 years of practicing medicine, he has never seen anyone get sick off the type of anesthesia I am about to get. So my dad jumps in and tries to explain that if anyone would get sick off of it, it's me. He starts to disagree with my dad (you would think he's gotta pay for anti-nausea drugs out of his own paycheck or something) when I interrupt. "Ok, so WHEN I wake up vomiting, can I just have the drugs then???" And Dr. Grinch gave me his best evil stare and told me yes. So it's just about time to go. Dr. McGorgeous comes in to make the marks on my ankle, where my blood products will be injected. I'm surprisingly not nervous about this. If I got through last May's surgery, I have no doubt I can handle it. So we head back to the very same operating room, and the next thing I know, I'm awake in the recovery room. Being an old pro at the surgery thing, I did not throw a temper tantrum over having to eat crackers, and I received some very lovely drugs. With my dad sitting next to me, I reached for the cup of water to wash down the drugs when it hit me. The nausea. Like none I had ever experienced. I literally threw my head back into the bed to force the room to stop spinning, and we got the nurse to push the anti-nausea drugs Dr. Grinch swore I wouldn't need. 2 doses and an extra hour in the recovery room and I was wheeled to the car. Back in my black boot, I was nervous about the pain and walking. The only thing I have to compare the situation to is what happened before. So I go home and sleep for all of Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and half of Sunday. I'm not kidding, 20 hours a day, I was OUT. I wasn't in nearly as much pain as the first surgery, but it seemed like my body needed the recovery time, so I called in sick to work on Monday and slept some more. By Tuesday, I was out of my boot and back at work full time. I wasn't set to see the doctor for 4 weeks. He said the therapy can take that long to start working. I had noticed by the day I went home from work that the swelling I had in my ankle had changed. It wasn't as widespread as it had been before, with the main swelling over my big incision. A good sign??? I had to wait 4 weeks to find out!