October 10th
I went to see a local orthopedist, after having been told (duh) at the urgent care that I'd ruptured my achilles. The orthopedic surgeon told me the same thing - like I didn't know already - and then scheduled my surgery for the following Monday at 7 am.
October 13th
7 am
I had driven the 45 minutes to the hospital, arriving before 7. I put on my gown and had all my vitals taken. Finally, I was wheeled into the surgery room. Within one minute, consciousness was gone. Little did I know, that surgery room was the beginning of my real nightmare.
I awoke a couple hours later...most of that day is a blur. I was groggy, dizzy, and needed help to dress (Glad my wife was there...) and help to get into my car. I slept most of that day at home, and following the doctor's directions, I'd taken the week off from work. The doctor prescribed an anti-inflammatory and a pain-killer, but no antibiotic. At the time, I never thought about that. I wish I had. I kept my foot up, read a book, surfed the web for the week - I'm really glad I have wifi.
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