Before really starting, a quick
update. Since last time, I’ve managed to submit my first college apps (yay!)
and survive an alumni interview—actually quite fun. I got to chat about roller
coasters and movies and other entertaining subjects. And I got to slurp down a sugary substance (granted,
I paid for said sugary substance, but still). So that’s been good.
But I’ve been looking back on this
blog and I realized that I really haven’t said much about the procedure I’m
going to have. While my hope is to eventually switch to more up-to-date as-it’s-happening
entries, I honestly have done nothing at the moment which warrants an entry. We
don’t even have my pre-op appointment scheduled, nor have we delved into the
wide and wonderful realm of making sure the school is handicap accessible. I’m
pretty sure its handicap accessibility is not as strong as it should be, but
that’s really a topic for when I know more about such matters (and have
pictures of troublesome areas in my school).
Hence my current plan, which is to
keep this blog floating with a stream of backstory, explaining who I am, what I’ve
had done to me before, why this scares me, etc.
Here we go.
So. The first time I heard about an
external fixator was the summer after eighth grade. I was thumbing through my
copy of Stephen King’s On Writing when
I got to the section where King discusses life after his 1999 car crash, life
which happened to include a bone-stabilizing device which was set in his leg,
featuring pins that poked out of his skin. I haven’t been scared much by King’s
books, certainly not at this point (I read The
Shining just this past winter). Then I got to this sentence: “I’ve never
had my leg dipped in kerosene and then lit on fire, but if that ever happens, I’m
sure it will feel quite a bit like daily pin-care” (268).
It was approximately in that moment that
I decided I would never, never, never, never have an external fixator.
Less than a year later, I met my
current orthopedic surgeon for the first time. He took an x-ray of my leg and
immediately started drawing lines on top of it using his fancy orthopedic
surgeon software. Said software told him within seconds that my right leg was
not straight. The solution? External fixator.
I was not amused.
He started describing what the
external fixator had done to other patients of his.
I went out and hid in the hallway
until the coast was clear. Kerosene-dipped legs on fire, I thought.
Kerosene-dipped legs on fire.
This most recent spring, my leg started feeling rather beat up. I was having troubles going up and down stairs (there are a lot of stairs at my school; while there is an elevator, it is a rather slow, scary elevator of doom and I'm quite convinced it's only a matter of time before it plummets to its doom). This was a problem. I returned to said surgeon and, within months, he had me convinced that this procedure was the right decision for my future.
But I have not actually discussed what the procedure is yet, not using clear terms.
So. During the procedure, the surgeons will remove wedges of my right tibia and fibula (the two bones in your lower leg). They will then place the Taylor Spatial Frame onto my leg. I will be sewn up and moved to my hospital room, where I will remain for a period of days for pain control (when the procedure was initially discussed, two to three days, but now I've heard four to five days and am feeling very confused). Before too long, we'll start making adjustments to the frame, which will straighten the bones out and before too long I'll have a straight leg. Then I'll just need to wait to get my frame removed and all will be well.
This will probably make more sense with pictures. I don't really want to attach pictures into this blog that I haven't taken, but I don't see any reason why I can't link to Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taylor_spatial_frame (NOTE: my frame will not necessarily look like the frame pictured with the article). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ilizarov_apparatus is also rather helpful for understanding this procedure. Book-wise, the only thing I can think of is the final section of the aforementioned On Writing. King doesn't discuss his frame for very long (or with any fondness), but what he does have is clearly stated and informative, albeit a bit frightening.
That's all for now! Hopefully I'll write again soon…
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