The surgeon had told me that I had broken two bones in my ankle. On the operation notes it says a fracture of the" Pilon Tibial and of the malleable externe" which is at the bottom of the Perone, the skinny ankle bone we call the Fibula.
There would need to be metal pins and maybe even a plate put into my foot. We both hoped it was just the pins and not more. He would see what he could do.
The anesthesiologist, Dr Marcou, was a bluff and exacting guy and I liked him. When I didn't know my height in centimeters, he calculated it with no hesitation from inches and feet. He wanted to know if I wanted partial anesthesia from the waist down, or to be "knocked out" completely.
I thought, it might be interesting to see what was going on during the surgery but then I thought about the sound of the drill and decided that being asleep would be even better. And anyway he said I would have to lie still for three hours if I had the partial! Forget it.
Sunday morning, after taking a shower, I was expected to rub a bottle of Betadine over my whole body and use it as a shampoo. I was a smelly, yellow tinged customer. I got in my gurney which was my bed too and got rolled away by one of the guys there whose only job is rolling those big beds around. He was pretty fit and a flirt. I didn't mind.
All I remember about the surgery room is that it was spacious, modern and clean and that every nurse I encountered was friendly and efficient. I felt completely calm. " Let's get this show on the road."