Surgery is over and we're all home

M. is now resting in our downstairs guestroom where she will be camping out for a while.  (Not only is her bedroom on the second floor, but she has a loft bed... not a good combination when your knee is out of commission.)  The surgery went well and we are all glad it is over with.  She has felt better, but was able to navigate the car ride and get into the house, but really all she want to do is rest.

The day has felt like a marathon.  We arrived at the hospital at 7am (after I spent the whole night dreaming that we were late) and the surgery was scheduled for 8:30.  It started right on time and J. and I headed to the waiting room where we kept ourselves busy.  The first hour passed quickly and since I thought we would be hearing news soon, I busied myself with some knitting.  When I got to the end of what I could do on my project I looked at the time and realized that she had been in the operating room for 2  1/2 hours.  At this point I started to get concerned since the surgery was only scheduled for one hour.  The last half an hour seemed very long indeed.  Finally the surgeon came out to tell us everything was fine.  The reason it lasted longer than anticipated was that he had difficulty locating the loose (17cm) cartilage.  It had floated to the back of M.'s knee where it was difficult to see with the scope.  He did manage to remove it.  She also has a nice new ligament to help keep her kneecap in place.  We hope that after she has recovered, she will be able to bend her knee without physically guiding her kneecap.

J. and I then went to get some lunch since we were told it would be at least another hour and half before we could see her.  After lunch we headed back to the waiting room to wait.  (Boy, I wish I had a kindle.)  All of a sudden an alarm starts to go off and a huge fan-like noise start.  We (and everyone else in the waiting room) look around to see if we can see what is going on, but we stay put since no hospital staff seemed overly concerned.  We then hear an announcement over the PA system telling us that there is a 'Code Red' in the third floor lobby.  We look around again since we are in the third floor lobby.  Either we are missing something or 'Code Red' does not mean what we think.  Various official-looking types start walking around and someone then points out that there is a helium balloon on the (very high) ceiling.  It appears that the balloon triggered the fire alarm.  The official-looking types then appear very relieved and start laughing, bring in a ladder, and retrieve the balloon.  I am still left with my question of what happens if a real fire, causing evacuation, happens in a hospital.  Surgeries are going on all the time.  The whole incident was more amusing since I knew M. was out of surgery than it would have been two hours earlier.

After spending several hours in the recovery room, M. felt up to trying to make the trip home.  I have a feeling we will be laying pretty low for the next few days.  It is at this point I have to remind myself why she needed surgery in the first place, because I don't like to see my girl uncomfortable or in pain.


susieloulou said…
At the hospital where I worked, they would say "Dr. Red, third floor waiting room. Dr. Red, third floor waiting room." Subtle, huh? :-)
Dr. Green meant everything was okay, but there was another color (orange, i think?) that was for a mental health type emergency...

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