I’m not one to complain….BUT, I slept very little in a reclining chair in the maternity ward of Lankenau Hospital for 3 straight nights, then I left for Pennsylvania Hospital at 6am on Friday, got ushered in and out of various wards/rooms, until finally I was ready to be anesthetized at about 10:30 AM. An hour later, the surgeon came in and let me know that surgery is not going to happen because my rupture was too high (near my calf) and repairing it would involve tying it to muscle tissue, which apparently is not a good idea. So, at this point I am told that I have 2 options: I can either (a) go home, or (b) get put under anesthesia and receive a PRP shot straight into my ruptured Achilles. I opted for the latter but have no interest in explaining what a PRP shot is, why I chose to have it, or whether I think it will lead me to a faster recovery (yes, please).
I woke up from the anesthesia and my left leg was in a cast, as opposed to the Control Ankle Motion “CAM” Boot I had arrived in. Since my wife and newborn child were still at Lankenau Hospital, I did my best to get the hell out of Pennsylvania Hospital as soon as possible, short of being beemed there. Although groggy and nauseous, in the span of ten minutes I tossed down three horrible oatmeal raisin cookies, chugged a 3 oz can of ginger ale (are hospitals the only place with soda cans this small? is chugged really the right word for taking down a 3 oz can?), put on my clothes, picked up my crutches, and got wheeled down to the lobby where my father was waiting to drive me back to be reunited with my wife and son.