The time had finally arrived to repair my fractured fibula. I’d already become quite good at maneuvering my crutches around my apartment, up the apartment stairs and rolling around my classroom in a wheeled chair–not an actual wheelchair. I’d furiously planned and written two weeks of lesson plans for my science classes and had picked up my sister from the airport.
We had to be at the hospital around 6 am, allegedly so they could put in a pain block behind my left knee. Yet, we waited around about an hour since the front desk didn’t realize that I was getting a pain block. Nonetheless, we were on time and prepared. I even wore a dress to make getting dressed after the surgery easier.
I like the way it looks as if I’m checking into a fancy hotel, which was sort of the feeling when we were escorted to room 7. I changed into the over washed and faded hospital gown and clashing bright yellow socks with white rubber grips on both the bottom and top of the foot.
I kept introducing my friend who came along to drive us back home as the “bone-breaker” since I’d tripped over her leg during that faithful Labor Day capoeira class. She took it all in stride–since both her ankles worked very well and she has a terrific personality.
Even though my previous surgical experience had been the removal of my wisdom teeth, I was not nervous at all as my surgical team cheerfully introduced themselves to me and made conversation, with the main topic of how I broke my ankle. As a matter of fact, one of the checklist questions was having me explain what procedure I was having done and on which body part. When the anesthesiologist found out that I was a capoeirista, he said he’d make sure that I would not experience any pain since I could beat him up.
In the operating room, before all the drugs kicked in, I talked about how I’d told my students I’d be their bionic teacher. One member of the surgical team agreed that I could use my reinforced ankle to kick their butts in shape. I corrected him, saying that I only needed to give them my teacher look. My surgeon seconded that by saying, “Yeah, she’s tried that on me a couple of times.”
In retrospect, I’m glad there were no hard feelings about that. She did a beautiful job on my bionic ankle. I cannot wait to dance, play capoeira, do yoga and walk with it.