Surgery always shocks a person’s life in many ways. We understand that there will be physical repercussions, the need for pain-relieving medication, changes to one’s daily routines and schedules, and a certain amount of dependence on others. While we know these things will occur, having to endure them still comes as a shock to the system.
Having just submitted to ankle fusion surgery, I am currently right in the middle of the recovery process. At times, I wonder why I did this and have to remind myself that it will eventually result in being able to walk without pain. For now, however, all I experience is pain, dependence, difficulty with simple things, and a life shrunken down to three rooms of my house. I don’t like it.
A Low-Tech Approach to Recovery
I have come to realize something else, however, a fact that really surprises me: how low-tech the mechanisms for aiding me with recovery really are.
Something called a splint currently encases my left ankle. It includes a stiff structure that provides a platform for my foot and stabilizes the ankle. Multiple layers of cotton batting cover the splint and then layered with Ace elastic bandages, mummy-style.
There appears to be no sizing for the splint itself: you could a man’s size-10-foot inside the one I have. That means it’s huge and clunky, difficult to maneuver. It’s also heavy weighing about three to four pounds. And it must be kept dry at all times or it has to be replaced.
The splint feels like carrying a bulky and temperamental pet around on your foot everywhere, all the time.
Getting Around with a Splint
To help me get around, I have an aluminum-frame walker. I cannot put any weight on the ankle, which means I must hold the heavy splint up in the air whenever I am upright. I grasp the walker and lever myself up onto my good foot. Then I push the walker and hop along behind it on my good leg.
This procedure puts maximum stress on my good ankle, which want to protect at all costs. Yet I constantly move that foot around frontwards, backwards, and sideways because that’s the only way to get anywhere behind the walker.
To Scoot or Not to Scoot
I hope to graduate to a scooter on Friday when the splint is removed (Yay!) and a cast put on. Right now, however, using the scooter would either put maximum pressure on the nerve that runs along the top of the ankle and foot or cause my foot to dangle off the back. This nerve, probably the medial dorsal cutaneous nerve, already expresses its unhappiness because it was moved around during the surgery. Nerves do not like being moved or messed around with.
At first, surgery somewhat dulled all the nerves in that area but after two weeks they came roaring back to life. That means sharp stabbing pains and jolts of electricity that make my legs jump unpredictably. One does not want to antagonize these nerves any more than they have already been. Thus, the walker instead of the scooter.
Upstairs, Downstairs After Surgery
To go up and down steps, one swaps the walker for a crutch and follows the procedure taught to you by a physical therapist. At the end of the steps, you swap back again. Are you getting the picture?
In addition, as I mentioned, the splint must be kept dry. Now, we bought a plastic cover to put over the split when showering. But the surgeon also took a piece of bone from just below my knee to graft into the ankle. That means the splint goes all the way up to the knee, which is too high for the plastic cover to stretch. Instead, we use a garbage bag and a rubber band to keep the whole area dry.
By now, you may understand what I mean when I say low-tech. While all these implements work, none of them employ technology in any way and all of them, except for the plastic bag, could have been used in olden days. Even Tiny Tim had crutches, after all.
Surgery Old and New
Which leads me to wonder why operating rooms have evolved into marvels of technology and wonders of innovation. They are filled with monitors that beep, chirp, and display critical information. The patient, on the other hand, gets ancient tools that reach back to the Dark Ages. They may be made of aluminum instead of wood but improvements stopped there.
The answer, of course, is simple. Surgeons and other medical professionals use the OR. We ordinary folk get stuck with the old-fashioned stuff. I have to use it to recover from the surgery, but I don’t like it.
