Over two weeks ago, I had surgery on my middle left finger. As you are all aware, I have amniotic band syndrome. If you want to read some things I've written, check here and here. There's lots of internet resources to explain the syndrome if you don't quite understand it (or ask me in person, I have an awesomely rehearsed spiel that I can give because I've told numerous people before).
Anyways, this post is going to be about my experience with the surgery since the only other surgery I have had as an adult is oral surgery to remove my wisdom teeth (and to put it bluntly, it was hell - the teeth surgery).
Thursday morning, Jared and I showed up at the outpatient surgery place. The nurse checking me in let me know it'd be a day of luxury and people waiting on me (to which I immediately rolled my eyes). I hadn't eaten anything in over twelve hours, so I was kind of hungry. After changing into the infamous hospital gown (sorry no pictures), I met with the anesthesiologist resident who explained the nerve block they were going to use on me. I also found out that I was going to be awake during the procedure (how comforting).
The resident returned with a doctor-in-training to put the iv in. If you don't know me, I have the worst veins possible. When I donate blood, I usually have to have the most experienced needle-poker-inserter possible because my veins are hard to find, they roll when a needle comes near, and they just plain don't like needles. Anyways, the residents (or whatever) worked on trying to find a good vein to stick the iv in. Since they had to put it in my right hand, I had to sit up on the bed while they did this. The newbie put an anesthetic on my skin and proceeded to guide a needle into my vein. After feeling the first tug of pain from the needle, my vision began to go black around the edges and all I could see was Jared. Apparently, the color must have drained from my face and the resident realized I was about to blackout. So they had to pull the needle out and let me lie down and attempt to calm down.
At this point, it wasn't just my vision that was blacking out. My hearing had gone as well. Yes, my body in extreme distress just decides to pretend nothing's happening by shutting down. Did I mention I was also hungry? That wasn't helping my situation. After the second attempt by the newbie to get my iv in, the resident had to take over and select a different vein that turned out to be more successful. Hardest part of the surgery was now over.
Did I mention that having fluids from an iv enter your body is the weirdest thing? It's also super cold because the fluid is at room temperature while the body's like 25 degrees warmer. As soon as fluids started entering my body, my shaking hands stopped shaking, and my vision/hearing returned to normal.
Anyways, on to the surgery. I was wheeled to a small-closet-like room where they inserted the nerve block. They mentioned that I would get that good feeling where I'd have no care in the world. I'd also probably suffer a little bit of amnesia. Whatever, I didn't care at this point. I just remember they kept poking my arm asking me if I could feel that. I kept saying yes (but I must have eventually said no, right?).
Away from the closet we went and into the operating room. All I remember was it being super bright, white and country music (at least I think it was country, the amnesia could have kicked in by then). They pulled my arm away from me and covered me with a blue cloth (I'm assuming this was to keep me away from the action). The last thing I remember feeling in my arm is them wiping it down (probably with iodine or some other heavy cleaning agent) and taping something to it. The people monitoring the anesthetic sat with me the whole time. Every few minutes they'd ask if I was okay.
I think the first time they asked if I was okay, I answered in the calmest, deadest voice, "I hear saws." Apparently that wasn't a good response because they jumped into action with "Raise the dosage" and must have raised my anesthetic or whatever it was. I didn't care. My eyes immediately closed and I was thinking about swimming in blue skies (did I mention the cloth covering me was blue?).
The doctors working on my finger did a lot of talking along with the surgery-stuff. But the only thing I remember hearing coherently was "Oh, she'll like that" towards the end. I can only assume that was in regards to the color of wrap they used to cover my splint; it was green.
I was wheeled back into my recovery cubicle where Jared was waiting. I felt great; this surgery was nothing. They gave me graham crackers. Those were the best tasting graham crackers I've ever had. And they got me up and walking, and asked if I was ready to go home.
Before releasing me, they went through a lot of stuff, like when the nerve block should wear off, keeping my arm elevated, etc. Truthfully, I was thinking about going home more than I was paying attention. Which is probably why they were looking at Jared while going over everything. I was given oxycodone for the pain and sent home.
Did you know that an arm is kind of heavy? With the nerve block, I had no control over my arm. I remember sitting on the couch and adjusting my position only to watch my arm flop over on its side. My fingers were slightly bent in a resting position, but they felt super stiff. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not move my fingers.
The rest of that Thursday went by pretty normally all things considered. And then I took a pill and went to bed thinking this surgery was easy and awesome. Fast-forward to one in the morning and I'm awake. My fingers are twitching. My thumb and fore-finger are moving. But for some reason, I can't move my pinky which is throwing alarm bells (my pinky is what keeps me functioning). But never mind that, I'm in pain. The worst pain ever.
I grab my arm, get out of bed, and proceed to look for Jared. He unfortunately shut the door on me, and it's very hard to open a door when your functioning hand is holding the non-functioning one. Through my sleepy-pain-filled mind, my functioning hand let go of the other one to open the door. Good thing that my elbow had gained enough sensation to hold itself up (while my wrist immediately plopped towards the floor).
I don't think I've ever cried that much over pain. Jared had me take two pills and waited until I fell back asleep. Did I mention your only supposed to take oxycodone every six hours? I woke up at five in the morning and took more pills. I believe I was taking on to two pills every four hours for the first day.
Then I was up at 6:30 and awake. So I figured I'd get up, take my pills, and try to watch something while ignoring the pain. That first walk from the room to the couch was hard. Dizziness and nausea assaulted me. I kind of flopped into the couch and kind of hoped Jared would wake up soon to carry me to the bathroom (because I had to pee).
Oxycodone sucks. I don't know why people would want to take this recreationally. It's like having the world's worst hangover ever and still having excruciating pain. In my opinion, it doesn't work like it should. I called one of the nurses and told them the medicine wasn't working. They informed me that I was on the heaviest medication possible, the side effects sucked but the pain would be much worse if I quit taking the pills. They also told me all I had to do was get through the first 48 hours, and my pain would begin to subside.
On this day, I began to question my sanity as to why I'd agree to get surgery in the first place. I had no recollection of how much pain you'd experience after finger surgeries (and I've been through many over twenty years ago). The only memory I have is me crying at night, and my mom giving me codeine or something (and using weirdly bent hangers in an attempt to scratch my arm under the cast).
Fast forward a week, and I got to see my finger for the first time with the splint and gauze off. My first reaction was, "I look like Frankenstein." It was in reference to the stitches. I couldn't look at my finger. However, my ring finger and pointer finger could feel that my middle finger was now straight. My ring finger now had a whole lot of range of motion without bumping into the middle one. And my fore finger felt a little crowded now.
The doctor checked my finger, someone removed the stitches (which was another painful moment - I still have the bruises from removing the stitches), and then I had a couple of splints custom-made for me.
When I got home, I truly looked at my finger. It's so different. And once I noticed where the incision marks were, I had to quit looking at it and put it back in its splint.
Was the surgery worth it? I sure hope so, but I think only time will tell. Yes, my middle finger is now straight and doesn't move when bumped on its own. It will never again mistakenly scratch my pinky and give it painful open-sores. However, there are two wires in my finger that I swear I can still feel. And if I put pressure on my finger, I swear I can feel the wires move. I'm hoping my finger's still in the process of healing, and those wires will be set more in place once my finger's fully-healed.
But now I have to relearned everything. I work in a lab where I use my hands all of the time. I'll have to relearn to how to type with my middle finger (since it's now a key set over, it'll have to cover a new set of keys while my pinky becomes responsible for more keys). I'll have to relearn how to play the piano. I'll have to relearn how to play the violin. How to hold a bowling ball when I go bowling. Just so much it's overwhelming. And time's not going any quicker to help the healing process, but I guess I'll just have to have patience and trust that I can relearn everything.
Some pictures:
My hands before the surgery. Focus on the left middle finger. I'll have to try to find some better before pictures...
The middle finger's straight! It's also a little fatter due the wires (I'm guessing). And those black lines? Why yes, that is the incision mark (gross, I know).
Look: bunny ears! And one of the ears isn't floppy (or bent). And the shirt's my new favorite shirt, compliments of the Lucky Fin Project.
