The last thing I remember/first thing I said . . .

After lots of prep and friendly nurse banter (so fun), meeting with the anesthesiologists, then Dr. H, they wheeled me into the operating room. It was spacious and a guy in a full hazmat suit was sorting giant maxi pads into a stainless steel tray, the kind used to hold the pasta at St. Francis where I can no longer help feed the homeless until after I recover. Here, it and several more trays were holding sterile tools and accessories.

I could see my X-rays on three monitors with computer-generated diagrams of my new socket, based upon measurements done earlier. Dr. H said the final check before closure would be to lay a template on me (“low fi”) and see if I matched it.

As a team they now moved me laterally onto another bed, my entire lower half completely numbed by a spinal tap. They’d use a general anesthetic later and I was told I might remember some things, but I do not. The last thing I remember was stretching my arms out to the sides in a surrender as they strapped them in.

I could hear Velcro being adjusted to hold my arms out, and I thought of His nail-pierced hands, stretched out in a sacrifice with no maxi pads around. Stainless steel wasn’t a thing, but the iron of spear and spikes would do. No sutures for our Lord, his blood poured and dropped and drizzled on the ground as I faded away.


Then I’m talking. “Thank God!” I am saying pointing down to my feet. I could align my ankle bones (which I think are actually the base of the tibia) because my legs were the same length! I tried knocking my knees together: same thing–there is an amazing symmetry now that is causing me to praise our Father in gratitude. Dr. H had told me they could get within a millimeter and he is smiling now, seeing my reaction. He shakes my hand as I tell him thank you, thank you so much.

Then I began to speak mostly gibberish, something about a vision I’d had of East and West and some crucial difference that all should know. So I’ll put it in my blog, I am telling the nurses, and I’m asking them if I’m speaking gibberish now and they smile and say I’m recovering nicely. You’re gonna be fine they tell me.

I was the last of four surgeries yesterday and Dr. H. said I could go home or stay the night so Physical Therapy could see me first thing in the morning. I chose to stay and wow I am already making good decisions! It’s 5:22 a.m. and I’m awake at my normal time. Last night I walked into the hallway with a walker 33 meters down and back. It felt good and now I’m smiling.

I’ll be home later for a sabbath post.