I spent the morning with my husband who had knee surgery.  That was fun.  NOT. 

He's been in pain for more than a year and a half with what we now know for sure was a miniscus tear in his left knee from a half marathon he did back along in Virginia. 

We heard about this National Training Center in Clarmont which is about an hour from our house. This place came highly recommended so we decided it was time to get the ol' knee taken care of since his running came to a complete stop a few months ago and he has been hobbling ever since.  Evidently this NTC has Olympic Athletes arriving here with all sorts of sports' injuries.  So this sounded like a good place to be for a running injury.  

Today we learned, from our nurse, that our Doctor, whom we didn't even meet until just before the surgery, was very well known.  He has athletes coming in from all over the country, like professional football players, with their  sport's injuries.  Well that was cool.  It seems we got the right doctor without even knowing.   I guess he's a very busy Doc.  The one complaint against him is the fact that you don't meet him until the day of surgery.  But it turned out ok and we were very comfortable with him and his bedside manner.  He came across as very knowledgeable and very kind wanting to get the work done as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

Anyhow something totally freaked me out during the procedure.

They had me come in and sit with my husband after they got him dressed and in bed.  Or is that undressed and in bed?  Anyhow, he looked cute in his hospital open-backed-nightie and blue nightcap.  I wish I had brought a camera.  Dang.   I always miss the best opportunities. 

So I'm sitting there waiting with him when a couple of nurses come in.  One of them explained that she was going to give him a block to his knee but before she could do that she needed to make him go to sleep so he wouldn't feel this block which involved a big needle.  I mean big.  I've never seen anything that big before.  But that's not what freaked me out.

So the anesthesiologist comes in, plays with a few things around the bed, and before I knew it I guess my husband was under but his eyes were still open so I didn't know at first.  He tends to be kind of quiet anyhow. They asked him a question and he didn't answer but was looking straight at them.  They asked him another question and again he didn't answer as they kept working all around him.  At first I was kind of annoyed thinking, "why isn't he answering them?"   Then I was freaking cuz he looked like he was dead.  I very calmly asked (noticing nobody else was freaking or paying that much attention to his face) "is this normal?" 

They said it was, and one of the nurses reached over and closed his eyes (like you would a dead person) and said, "there, now not so creepy."   I don't know why I didn't go beserk but I was silently panicking inside until I realized all was under control.  He didn't even blink.  Just eyes straight ahead like he was awake, but was not.

The funny thing is before they put him to sleep to give him the block, they asked if I was ok seeing him get a big needle.  I said not a problem because I had taken the kids countless of times to get pricked with needles over the years.  They didn't want me to pass out or anything.  That was nothing.  But seeing him wide-eyed, not blinking and asleep almost caused a panic attack.  I didn't even notice them inserting the needle cuz I was looking at his face the whole time making sure he wasn't dying on me.  Scary. 

Then, just like that in a matter of three minutes he was awake.  That was it, just enough time to give him the block.  Then a bit later they gave him some more sleepy juice and this time it was different.  He starting talking a blue streak (unlike himself) and saying stuff that didn't make sense slurring his words.  He kept looking at me but in a weird way until I left saying I'd be back when they were done.  He doesn't remember any of that including looking at me as I left.  Weird. 

Now he's home on the couch with a big ice machine attached to his leg, pain killers nearby and all is well.

Anestheology is a wonderful thing.  Can you imagine the old days without it?