Thursday, June 11, 2009

Surgery Right Around the Corner

I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Petrified, but ready. Almost everything is accumulated and sitting next to the front door. The lizards are on their way to Phil and Lori’s house. Jim will watch the other zoo occupants, and the house, while I'm gone. I don't know when I'm coming back. AJ will be at his dad’s for a little while for his normal visitation. Katie will take me to surgery and back to Angel’s house. Angel will be there evenings and weekends. I hope they don’t kill me with antibiotics because I’m extremely allergic to almost all of them. And I am not looking forward to the intense pain that is predicted.

I was denied the knee walker by the insurance company after being promised that it would be delivered beforehand (to my address from five years ago because no one knows how to change my address in the authorization and referral system). Cheryl offered to help with a rental but I don’t even have time to figure out how much it would cost. The place that rents them was supposed to call me back two days ago, and never did.

My PCP denied the second refill on my heart medication for my recovery. So I guess they want me to die. I told them I will not have access to a pharmacy for eight weeks. They don’t care, obviously.

I have been stoic for the most part, or at least I hope to have seemed that way, and yesterday, when the e-mails came trickling in from friends and coworkers about how they will miss me when I’m gone, I almost broke down and cried at my desk at work. Almost, but not quite.

And now, this morning, I’m angry. I need to let some of this vent. Out of my system. Gone, goodbye. So I admitted to being “not okay” this morning in yet another response to an e-mail about my departure and absence from work.

“No, I'm not okay. I'm terrified. And they are taking bone from my hip to reconstruct my ankle and heel, and inserting a tiny steel plate, and drilling through bone and transferring a tendon. I won't be able to walk or drive for a minimum of eight weeks. And I won't be recovered fully until a year has gone by. And the pain is supposed to be so intense that I will be on Norco for the full amount of time, round the clock. So...wish me luck, I guess? Thanks!”

I don’t know what I need. A sedative?


  1. oh anna, what can i do to help besides letting you know i'm here and that i love you?

    give me phone numbers and i'll call those SOB's at the insurance and the stores and and and...

    crikey why do we all live so far apart from each other? you KNOW we'd be there in person to help if we were all in the same area.

    i love you!

  2. Thank you! I just have to be patient. Pun intended. I know you would help me, and actually, you just did. Thank you! Much love right back to you!!! I am a lucky person to have such fabulous friends. I really am!!!


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