Okay, folks. This is the bill for the surgery. I paid the anesthesiologist $700 on the day of the surgery. I still hadn't gotten all of the money transferred into bank account by that day, so there was a last-minute mad scramble to make sure we could get the surgery paid for. I don't use credit cards, but I know others who do. I have written a check to cover the $2606 that was charged to the card. My mom covered the surgeon's flat $1000 fee (which is for the surgery, all office visits, supplies, etc.).
The surgery was, in fact, done by The Shit. I saw him on Monday morning and was instantly won over. We discussed the injury, his take on the surgery and his philosophy about practicing orthopedic medicine. He had no intention of charging me for that office visit. Had I decided not to seek treatment from him, he would have been fine with that. He simply wanted to give me one last option before I made my decision. Before we were done talking, my decision was completely solidified.
When he sent me home, he told me not to eat lunch. There was the possibility that they'd do surgery as early as that evening. I assured him that I don't eat that much, so I was fine with his admonition. His office was going to be looking for the best place to do the surgery as well as shopping for the best price. I was to do nothing until I heard from them. So, I went home, trying to ignore the kitchen. And, as is typical when someone tells you not to do something, your brain decides it must do that thing. I thought I was going to starve to death for the rest of the afternoon. My brain was begging me to eat something. I finally called his office to find out if I could eat already. When his office manager returned my call a little later, the first thing she said was something like, "Go eat!"
I got a call later in the day. The rest is a blur. Surgery would be the following day, but I had to run and get a physical right then. Can you be in Culver City in 15 minutes? We found a doctor who will do the physical. Again with the mad scramble? In a word, yes.
On Tuesday, the day of the surgery, I was busily trying to finish the video for the kid's Mission Project. Do we all do mission projects in the fourth grade? I know I did. I barely know how to use the iMovie software, but the kid wanted to do a video to accompany his report and that's what we did. (What was wrong with doing a model, son?) I wanted to get it done before surgery since it was due at the end of the week. I didn't think I'd be feeling too good in the days following the surgery. Leaving it until after the surgery was not an option. I got it finished with about an hour to spare, even after agreeing to be at the surgical center about an hour earlier than we'd initially planned.
Now, four days out of surgery, the ankle feels pretty good. I'm in a big, honkin' boot and I'm not allowed to put any weight on the ankle/foot at all. The doctor has sent texts or called each day to check on me. I just knew he wouldn't send one today. I mean, it's Saturday. I'm kind of assuming it's his day off. Guess what? I still got a text today asking how I'm doing. I informed him that if today is, in fact, a day off and if he was sending me a text while in the presence of his family, he was to give his cell to one of his little girls and direct her to lock it away until Monday!!
The doctor says he intends for me to be back in the water in six weeks. That seems a bit soon, but he's the expert. I trust him and I believe in him.
In the meantime, I sit with my foot up. I see him again early next month. I do believe he said something about starting to walk on it about two weeks after surgery. That doesn't sound fun or even painless. But if that's what he says I should do, I'll do it.