So what does a PRP injection feel like? Well, other than sleeping 20 hours a day, it was more fear of pain than actual pain. Don't get me wrong, I'd definitely choose a spa day over a PRP injection, but on a scale of 1-feeling.your.ligament.snap.and.ankle.bone.break, it's registering down around a 4 or a 5. Four days after the surgery, the swelling was down and I had DEFINITELY noticed a change in the amount of pain I was feeling during the day. A change for the better!!!! The real test would be going back to work. Tuesday was my first day back. Things were OK, and for that whole day I let myself wish and dream and hope that this was the end of my journey. I mean, Tiger Woods had this therapy, and it helped him! It didn't help with the whole cocktail waitress situation, but whaddya gonna do? Wednesday comes and goes, then Thursday, and by Friday I was back to square one. The swelling hadn't come back, but there was that pain. My old familiar friend. The pain that is so much a part of my life that I truly can't remember what my body used to feel like before the pain moved in and forced me to carry it around. And so I wait. And I plot. I don't see the surgeon until mid-December. In the meantime, I decide that going back to work too soon was the reason the procedure didn't stick. So I continue to plot. And my appointment with Dr. McGorgeous finally rolls around. He takes a peek at the ankle and tells me it's a good sign that the swelling went down because it means that my body does respond to this therapy. When you're dealing with an experimental procedure, any sign that it works is a good one. So I explain the pain and ask him how close to Christmas he's performing surgeries. This guy knows me pretty well at this point and he gives me a "Cut the bullshit" look and asks when I want my surgery. I tell him December 22nd. He tells me he needs to leave the hospital to catch his plane by 11:30am, and asks if I can be there at 7am. Seriously, I would let the guy operate on me in his kitchen if it meant this thing would get fixed. So I agree to show up 3 days before Christmas so that I can have 11 straight days of recovering without having to stand on it at work. It also means another round of pre-op phone calls, another physical, more paperwork and all the other boring stress that goes along with an operation. And sure enough, I show up on December 22nd for my next procedure. Same room, same nurse, same smells and sights and sounds. Same x marks the spot on my ankle, same signature on the paperwork. Same initials from the surgeon reminding him this is the correct leg to operate on. Same pinch and burn of the IV. The familiarity and routine of undergoing surgery definitely registers somewhere in my mind. Until Dr. Grinch shows up again. Of course. And tries to deny me my anti-nausea drugs. I tell him what happened last time and tell him to check his records and order my drugs. He doesn't argue. Have I ever mentioned how much I absolutely love getting my way? Well, I do. And keeping with the routine, I wake up in the same recovery room. I get sent home to sleep. I manage to wake myself up the next morning and forgo the drugs long enough to drive the 2 hours to my parents house. Once there, I take my drugs and proceed to fall asleep for 7 days. Seriously, Christmas day I was only awake for 2 hours. But these are the sacrifices I'm willing to make if that's what it takes to heal my ankle. And this has to work. It has to.....
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