This morning I had the second surgery on my feet. Last time was the right foot, this time, the left. Once I’m all healed I will begin to exercise the way I should be exercising. Whether I’m able to reverse the Seroquel weight gain or simply arrest it, remains to be seen, but at least I’m finally going to get a shot at it.
Anyway, I was given my preliminary IV dose of Versed, which quite frankly, when you are on as much medication as I am, doesn’t really do shit. But, they wheeled me back to the procedure room and got me set up for the real anesthesia. Good stuff.
But, before I got the dose of whatever it was (I asked, but I forget) the anesthesiologist asked me quietly if I take the Lamictal for a seizure disorder. I said no, and before I could elaborate, she whispered “bipolar?”.
My heart died a little.
I’m big on excuses. I pass them out to explain other people’s behavior like old ladies shove nickels into slot machines. And, initially, I didn’t give it a second thought. But, once I got home and was in the bed I will remain in for 3 days, I did give it a second thought. I figured she was merely trying to save me from embarrassment. Ok, cool, no problem.
But, “wait” my brain said after an hour or two. (I’m a
little lot slow today) Why should I be embarrassed? If the reason that I’m Lamictal was an issue, one of the 30 people coming in and out of my surgery center cubicle would have asked. My podiatrist would have asked. Considering that no one asked until I was literally on the operating table, felt wrong
I have no excuse to hand her for that. I wish I did. If I did, I could go along and pretend that I hadn’t been backhanded with a bit of stigma. Because, it would have been fine to say aloud that I was taking Lamictal because of some sort of seizure disorder. But, if that wasn’t the case, then it needed to be kept quiet. No one else could hear.
It had no impact on my foot procedure. It had no impact on anything. I had been a perfectly charming patient (I usually am) and I couldn’t imagine she would think I posed any sort of risk to her and others, especially as I was getting ready to be conked out for the next hour.
From a health care provider. The people who are supposed to “get it”.
On the bright side, my dog Earl hasn’t left my side since I’ve been home. He seems to know his mama is hurt.
(my toes have betadine on them- looks gross)