The purpose of this blog is to record anything and everything having to do with my upcoming knee replacement surgery. During the 10 years I have been waiting to take this step, I have collected as much information as I could to prepare myself for what is to come. Regardless, no amount of preparation can take the place of the actual experience, which will be unique to me and my body.
I know that the surgery will leave me in a great deal of pain for at least 10-21 days, depending on who I talk to. So I want to remember the sort of pain I am in now, so that I can more easily find my gratitude when the new pain sears my body... lol.
I know that the surgery will leave me in a great deal of pain for at least 10-21 days, depending on who I talk to. So I want to remember the sort of pain I am in now, so that I can more easily find my gratitude when the new pain sears my body... lol.
It's been almost two weeks now without any pain medication at all. My doctor insisted on me being off the pain meds for two weeks before surgery, so that the pain meds he gives me after surgery will pack a bigger punch, which he says I will need.
I am unable to walk with any regularity and my knees are more wobbly. My legs feel like large boulders that have been placed on top of smaller boulders. As time erodes their precarious placement, it becomes easier for the larger boulders to wobble on their tiny mounts. This oddity has often happened over time, always reminding me that my knees are diseased and riddled with arthritis, but without the Vicodin to cloak the pain, I appear to be more off balance than before. Truly odd.
I can no longer walk through the pain and pretend I am fine, even though I limp. Walking has become a major insult to my knees, beyond anything I have ever felt thus far, and that has been plenty. Standing up from a sitting position is crazy. I have to sway my torso back and forth like I am pumping a swing, before I am able to put any weight on my legs. Once finally standing, I have to steady myself for an indeterminate period of time, before I can even get my legs to consider moving. And, then, I clutch at anything I can reach... furniture, walls, doorjambs, people who happen to be nearby, etc... just to be able to move forward. If I need to turn, one foot stays planted on the floor, while the other makes tiny, shuffling movements in a semi-circle to face the direction I need to go... sort of like the protractor and compass set I used in my elementary math lessons.
Finally, there is never a moment when I am without pain in both of my knees. When I was using Vicodin and Ibuprofen, I could actually move through the pain sometimes with relative ease. Now, every step is the one where I consider not walking forward anymore, because it is excruciating. Every step is almost beyond bearable... and I only say almost, because obviously, I do keep moving, if only to avoid being run down in the street.
So, while in recovery after surgery, I want to remember what it was like before surgery, because I suspect gratitude on my part may be the only thing that will push me through my exercises and physical therapy, which my physical therapist has promised will make me want to cry. Let the games begin.
I am unable to walk with any regularity and my knees are more wobbly. My legs feel like large boulders that have been placed on top of smaller boulders. As time erodes their precarious placement, it becomes easier for the larger boulders to wobble on their tiny mounts. This oddity has often happened over time, always reminding me that my knees are diseased and riddled with arthritis, but without the Vicodin to cloak the pain, I appear to be more off balance than before. Truly odd.
I can no longer walk through the pain and pretend I am fine, even though I limp. Walking has become a major insult to my knees, beyond anything I have ever felt thus far, and that has been plenty. Standing up from a sitting position is crazy. I have to sway my torso back and forth like I am pumping a swing, before I am able to put any weight on my legs. Once finally standing, I have to steady myself for an indeterminate period of time, before I can even get my legs to consider moving. And, then, I clutch at anything I can reach... furniture, walls, doorjambs, people who happen to be nearby, etc... just to be able to move forward. If I need to turn, one foot stays planted on the floor, while the other makes tiny, shuffling movements in a semi-circle to face the direction I need to go... sort of like the protractor and compass set I used in my elementary math lessons.
Finally, there is never a moment when I am without pain in both of my knees. When I was using Vicodin and Ibuprofen, I could actually move through the pain sometimes with relative ease. Now, every step is the one where I consider not walking forward anymore, because it is excruciating. Every step is almost beyond bearable... and I only say almost, because obviously, I do keep moving, if only to avoid being run down in the street.
So, while in recovery after surgery, I want to remember what it was like before surgery, because I suspect gratitude on my part may be the only thing that will push me through my exercises and physical therapy, which my physical therapist has promised will make me want to cry. Let the games begin.
Good idea. We love you and will share in your journey.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much.
DeleteI wish I could say different but the first 2 weeks of recovery are really hard. My advice from having gone through it is take the drugs, stay ahead of the pain and know that the only thing you have to do is go to rehab. It seems that a favorite saying of PT folks is motion is lotion. And when they push your leg back underneath the table it's OKAY to scream. Keep your eye on the goal of it does get much much better and you'll be pain free in no time, without drugs. My thoughts and prayers are with you for complete and successful surgery and a pain free knee. You will love it!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Cathy. I appreciate hearing these pearls of wisdom from folks who have been through the fire. I am still in the honeymoon phase of not truly knowing what it's all about yet. My greatest fear is that I will fail the test of my resilience and strength and my leg will become useless.
Delete