Sauve-Kapanji

Those of you that read my D-Day has arrived post will know I had surgery this week. Having an operation on the same part of your body for the second time, rightly or wrongly, means you know what to expect.

I’d not anticipated how nauseous I’d feel the night before. The only time I’d ever felt that sick with nerves was during POD’s 12 week scan. Unsurprisingly ‘nil by mouth’ meant I was starving by 11.30pm when I succumbed to a second dinner of chocolate and Weetabix. I didn’t sleep much.

POD was in fine fettle on D-Day morning. She insisted on wearing a glittery headband with her name emblazoned on it. And sunglasses. It was 7am. The POD Father dropped me at the hospital to wait for a bed and then took POD to nursery.

A suspected latex allergy meant I secured a bed, my own room and was scheduled for theatre first. The POD Father arrived back at the hospital to the sight of me donning a hospital gown and a pair of knee high toe-less tights to stop deep vein thrombosis.

When I broke both my wrist bones at the point of rotation, corrective surgery involved plating the radius bone. Fast forward 17 months and my radius is in superb shape. No need to remove the metalwork. The movement in my wrist is good although the ulna bone has never healed properly. It doesn’t rotate around the radius as it should, it’s disintegrating and there is arthritis between the joints. The pain extends to my elbow rather than being isolated to the wrist.

This second operation involved pinning my ulna bone to the radius to stabilise the joint. My wrist will no longer rotate where it should. The surgeons then performed a rather clever procedure called Sauve-Kapanji. About 1cm of the ulna is removed from below the wrist joint. Both ends are then held together with 3 screws. The purpose of this is to create a joint further down the ulna, effectively a new rotation point.

I came round from the 2.5 hour operation to an elevated arm and two nurses discussing my procedure. They were suitably impressed with Sauve-Kapanji. For some time afterwards a block kept my arm completely numb from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. So much so I nearly brained myself with my own arm when I went to the loo. As I suspected it was a long and painful night. I was allowed home the following day but not before I’d christened one of those cardboard hats.

Somehow it seems easier this time, not to say its any less painful or frustrating. I miss POD’s cuddles. I miss driving. I miss my independence.  Let’s just hope it’s all worth it and I get that bionic arm.

This post is for Post Comment Love run by Vic Welton at Vevivos. If you’d like to find out more about #PoCoLo click on the badge below.