Surgery minus happy drugs equals horror movie

When I arrived to the hospital for my surgery, Dr. M escorted me to a computer so that we could take a look at my MRI.

He pointed out the obvious unidentifiable objects floating aimlessly throughout my knee (where the h are they are going?)

He then showed me the site of my last surgery - the microfractures in the bone and the fact that I had grown some sweet ass cartilage (can I get a whoot whoot!)

"I knew I grew cartilage!" I exclaimed proudly, "I could hear it!" (recall those dark days when I listened intently for cartilage growth?)

"Yes. All your blood, sweat, and tears paid off!" he responded, "But see how close that floating object is to ruining everything you've grown. We have to get it out right away."

"Shit. That evil UFO is trying to ruin all my hard work? Damnit, let's blow it to bits! " I thought, envisioning Will Smith in Independence Day.  "Um...Dr. M...where did all those chunks of floaters come from?" I asked.

"Yes, this is the problem," he responded, "It looks like it's cartilage that is now breaking off on the anterior side - the other side of your knee."

We made eye contact briefly and I saw the concern in his eyes.

"Oh no. Why is my cartilage ripping? Do you have to do another microfracture surgery on the other side of my knee now?"

"We might. We will make a decision once we see how bad it is in there. You need to be clear for surgery - no sedation - so you can make a decision."

"I can't go through another 3 months of recovery," I responded pitifully, picturing the puking, the inability to drive, bathe, and care for myself independently.

"Let's just wait and see," he responded.

30 minutes later I was strapped down to a table in the OR shaking like a leaf, no feeling below the waist and no fricken happy drugs. Like a crack whore, I quietly began negotiating with the Anesthesiologist, "Just slip me a little somethin' somethin' huh? Just a little..."

"I hear that," replied Dr. M, "If you get drugs, then I get them too."

Damnit. I desperately needed something to take the edge off. This was not fun. Just a nice little shiraz in the IV? Something? Don't you know that I'm a fricken riot in surgery on the happy drugs? Why are you denying me (and all the OR staff) of this experience?

Help. This is NOT fun.

As I shook uncontrollably, I watched Dr. M retrieve large pieces of cartilage in and around my knee on the screen in front of me. It was kind of like watching a horror movie. I could feel the pressure as he used suction and little terrifying sharp tools to retrieve the pieces. He removed the chunk that was dangerously close to ruining the cartilage I had so lovingly grown over the past four months. He showed me the fabulous cartilage I grew and then broke into song, "Oh Oh sometimes....I get a good feelin'....yeah! You okay, Kirstie?"

"Fine. Keep singing," I responded. There was something oddly soothing and Grey's Anatomy-ish about my Orthopaedic Surgeon channelling Flo Rida whilst performing surgery on  my knee.

He then showed me the anterior side of my knee where the cartilage had broken off.
Decision-making time.

"Hmmm....there's certainly tearing here that didn't exist 4 months ago. But...it's not on a weight-bearing region and it really shouldn't be causing you pain. I'm going to help you make this decision. I don't think we need to do the microfracture surgery."

Thank goodness. "I agree!" I exclaimed, much too enthusiastically for someone who would have crapped her pants had she'd been able to feel her nether regions.

Relieved, I settled down and watched Dr. M remove my leg from the restraints and prepare it to be sewn up.

And then, the unimaginable happened. As Dr. M lifted my lifeless leg straight up in the air, something (leg juice??) began spraying directly out of one of the holes in my knee. With force. I shit you not.

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!" I screamed, "Make it stop. Make it stop. Happy drugs! Happy drugs! I would totally take an MRI right now!"

"It's fine," the nurse reassured me. "Look away."

Holy hell. Traumatizing experience but decent outcome.

I will be spending the next 2 weeks recovering. My fabulous mother is at my side and she will be lovingly providing me with happy drugs on request.

I couldn't find a shirt that said, "I watched leg juice squirt out of holes in my knee"