All patched up.

All went well with my surgery on July 26th at University of Virginia hospital in Charlottesville and I'm back home - Sooner than expected- recovering in WV. For those that have no clue what I'm talking about, I just had a procedure to repair the iliac artery in my left leg that had narrowed and was restricting blood-flow. When I rode any harder than tempo my left leg would lose power and burn a whole lot more than my right leg. Not to mention swelling up and being tight almost all the time. Not a comfortable thing to deal with when your job is doing what provokes the symptoms on a daily basis.

Round 1:

In June, after the Nature valley grand Prix, I underwent a diagnostic test called an arteriogram to investigate the inner structure and function of my iliac artery. During the test, Which I was wide awake for (not a problem with the wonder-drug verset coursing through my system), the doctors inserted guide wires through a catheter in my groin to access the artery. Contrast dye was released (felt like I was peeing down both my legs) so x-rays could be taken of the arterial structure and nitroglycerin was released for pressure measurements. It was pretty wild being wheeled into a full blown operating room with stainless steel torture-devices, music in the background and plasma screens for watching the movie of my artery system. It's funny to think back at how nervous I was beforehand only to become the epitome of mellow after I was given the Vercet (Magical dissociative). I actually had fun and was in a great mood throughout the two hour procedure. Although I did ask, the doctors wouldn't burn me a copy of artery show they just taped.

Round 2:

Almost a month after the Arteriogram, I finally had things in order to go ahead with the big day. Through a bizarre twist of fate no one could have predicted, my brother and I were both admitted into a hospital on the same day. This would be the first time either Waite brother checked into any sort of medical establishment. My brother for a Staph infection (which he is recovering from just fine) and my self for a Patch Angioplasty on my Iliac Artery. Karl was in Maryland and I was in Charlottesville. With my brothers situation being more acute than mine, my mom stayed with him while my good friend Matt Marcus clocked out of Blackwater bikes for a couple days to accompany me.

The night before surgery was a bit unnerving having to deal with the news of serious turmoil in this year's Tour De France. Not to mention the expulsion of Micheal Rasmussen. I was starting to wonder if the sport's top level would still exist when I came out of the following day's planned anesthesia. Nonetheless, my alarm hit at 4:30 A.M and Matt and I cruised through the quiet streets of Harrisonburg on our way to my 6A.M. check-in for surgery. Once we arrived at the hospital the anxiety of what lay ahead began to creep into my system causing me to shake. Luckily Matt and I tend to look at strange situations with cynical humor so most of my tension gave way to laughing with an extremely high heart rate. My mood continued to rise as Matt and I hung out in the pre-opp room where I had to trade in my KBS Pro Cycling casual wear for this ridiculously huge moo moo surgical robe. The thing had to be tied in the back and I was completely naked so the site from the rear must have been frightening! After I was changed, the nurse came in to start my IV and since I was super tense she had a difficult time finding my normally impressive arm veins. The first try was a miss enticing Matt and I to label her the "needle Nazi". After a little hot towel therapy she managed to find suitable entry point in the top of my hand. After that the anesthesiologist came in and things started to get fuzzy. I remember shaking Matt's hand on my way out the door, climbing from the roller bed to the cold operating table and nestling my head onto a cupped rest of some sort. The next thing I remember is looking up at nurses in the recovery room asking me to rate my level of pain from one to ten. I think I said eight after which I was given a mega hit of morphine. I also remember reaching down to my right side and checking for a bandage since I had to remind the docs to do the Inguinal release on the right leg as well. It was there and so were the two other bandages on my left side. For what seemed like a short while in the recovery room, was actually like four or five hours while nurses secured me a room for the overnight stay.

When I finally made it to my room the first thing I did was call my mom since Matt and my Grandmother hadn't yet made it in. While I was talking to her I fell off my morphine induced "cloud 9" and sort of emotionally fell apart. Along with the tear jerker the pain was coming on full tilt as well. I told mom I had to go and proceeded to slam the nurse call button until someone answered,"May I help you?". I answered back with, "I need a nurse and my pain killers now!!". I was so frustrated that I had been dumped in a room all by myself in pain and without my family being told they could come up. Once that fiasco ended things were great and I was really happy to see Matt and my grandmother. That night I was rewarded with this angelic nurse named Wendy. She was beautiful and gentle. Exactly what I needed after suffering through the not so gentle nurse before her. Wendy even brought Matt a cot to sleep on. Even though I did not get much sleep that night, it was a pleasure to be woken up by Wendy when she made her rounds. I think Matt would agree. The next day Dr. Cherry came in for a visit and explain that my artery was the size of a pencil where it was damaged. To fix it he cut the artery down the middle and stitched an oval shaped patch of dacron (a woven polyester material kind of like gore-tex) over the open segment to enlarge it. He also trimmed my Inguinal ligament which stretches over the External Iliac Artery to allow more space for the artery to move while I pedal and to prevent further damage.

Thanks to all who helped me get through this including: Dr. Cherry, Tracey Lea, Beth Leasure, Hunter Allen, my family and friends. And of course Matt Marcus for dropping everything to come hang out with me at the hospital making me laugh so hard my wounds almost came apart. That freakin' hurt but it was worth it!

It was a pretty liberating feeling when "They" finally let me out of the matrix that is a hospital. Who are they? Well, that's what Matt and I were asking ourselves every time we asked a nurse about when I could go home. "I'll see what they tell me", she would say...