Shark Bite

I woke up in the hospital wondering how I got here. There was an oxygen mask on my face and several nurses in the room touching me. I tried to pull the mask off my face and a nurse grabbed my arm and told me to leave it alone. “If you do not quit fighting us, we are going to tie your arms to the bedrails.”

The sentence brought my mind back to consciousness as I became aware of my surroundings. I remembered the ambulance ride to the hospital emergency room where the staff took me into a surgery room almost immediately. There was barely enough time for me to get the IV lines put in my body and for me to give consent for surgery before I was in an operating room with an anesthesiologist telling me she was knocking me out.

I have had a few surgeries before today and when I felt the anesthesia kicking in, I looked at the anesthesiologist and said, “Please do not let me die. Your only job is to wake me back up.” I had warned her I would say those words because that is my standard line when I have been knocked out for surgery, and so far, every time I have been put under I wake back up.

As I lay in the hospital bed pushing my brain to start functioning, the nurse asked me if I would cooperate so she could hook up the vitals machine. I smiled at the nurse apologetically and told her I was fully awake now so I would indeed cooperate. I gave her my left arm to put the blood pressure cuff and oxygen sensor in place.

I was still feeling a little loopy then realized I was highly likely on pain medication. “How bad is it?” I inquired quietly. The nurse told me one of the doctors would be in my recovery room in a few minutes to discuss my prognosis. I know it is never a good sign if the doctor sees you too soon after surgery. If it is good news, the nurse will generally tell you the surgery went well, and the doctors usually waits at least half an hour to make sure you are stable before coming to speak to you.

“Hello, Jessica. I am Dr. Stone. How are you feeling?”

“I am just dandy, Dr. Stone. I have been in medical facilities often enough to know if you are in my room already you have bad news to tell me.” I quipped.

“We could not save them. You were losing so much blood we could not keep up. It was necessary to amputate.” Dr. Stone reached for my hand as he said those words.

“Both of them?” The words stuck in my throat; I was not sure he could hear me.

“Yes, both of them.” I could tell by the expression on his face he was truly upset about the results of my surgery.

“How much?” I inquired.

“They are both below the knee. You appear to otherwise have good function and as long as there are not any setbacks during the next few days, I think you will have good results with prosthetics. Once we have deemed you medically stable, we will send you to a rehabilitation hospital so you can learn to adapt to your new lifestyle.” Dr. Stone let go of my hand. “Do you have any questions for me?”

I was so stunned, I simply said, “Not right now. I think I need some time alone.”

The nurse stayed in the recovery room to monitor me but kept silent to give me time to process the news. As I lay in the bed, I considered what my life would be like going forward. The goals I had been working toward for so many years were suddenly impossible. I was thinking now might be a good time to curl up in a ball with a pint of Häagen-Dazs and a box of tissues.

About 20 minutes later the nurse told me I was stable, and they would be sending me to my hospital room and then I would be able to see my family. Ask the transport staff wheeled me through the hallways I wondered what my family's reaction would be. I smiled and waved to my family as I passed them in the hallway outside my room’s door where they waited as I was transferred into the bed in my hospital room.

After the transport team left and the nurses asked me a million questions and took my vitals my family was able to come in to see me. My husband and four-year-old came into the room. The relief and worry on their faces was obvious. My daughter asked me, “Does the shark bite mean you are not going to the Olympics?”

“Of course not, baby girl. Once I learn how to walk again with my new bionic feet I will be going to the Paralympics. We are still a surfing family.”