Day 46: Nothing to Report

I'd like to throw something up just so the gaps between posts aren't too large, but there's not a lot to say about the last week or so. Therapy is going great, and apparently I'm ahead of schedule on basically everything. We went to a concert last night and this morning the knee felt like it wanted to explode, so that made me think work is still going to be awhile. It stinks. Feeling better, but not able to do a lot at one time. The right leg is getting pretty sore, so it's time to scale back and take it easy. We don't need this happening all over again on the other side DX

Day 35: A Blur

     Almost there, almost able to move normally already. It's kind of amazing to think it's happening this quickly, because at the beginning it felt like it was taking so long. Now the last few weeks are a complete blur. I guess that's what happens when you spend the vast majority of your time in the same place doing the same thing over and over again. Soon this will be like most things in life- a memory to look back on, with the specific details harder and harder to recall.

     There's still soreness and difficulty with movement, but it's night and day over where it was even 2 weeks ago. I haven't used crutches in maybe 3 weeks, and the brace was officially put away today. I haven't actually used it in about that long either, actually. Walking is no problem, though trying to do it for any extended period of time is pretty difficult. I have a feeling that given my job description, it might take a little longer for me to return than most people. If I had a desk job I'd already be working again and feeling productive.

     I mentioned this before, but it's just so funny how your body completely adapts to its current circumstances so easily. As soon as this whole thing is over, I'll just be back up and at 'em as if nothing had ever happened, but right now at this point I can't do hardly anything and my body's totally cool with that too. My brain is a different story, but for the most part it hasn't been that bad lately. Just have to find things to do that feel productive and worthwhile amid the mounds of unproductive wasted time.

     5 weeks down, 19 to go. It's almost seeming like it might be over someday now. For awhile there it seemed like this would just be my life in perpetuity.

Day 27: Much Better

     Last week at this time was pretty turrible, but it's much better now. Still frustratingly difficult to get around, but it's possible to go places relatively comfortably now, and the rehab exercises have gotten much easier. No more brace, no more crutches, just a little limping. The doc said the first month sucks, and he was right, but fortunately the first month is almost over with.

     The goal for the first 3 weeks was 90 degrees of flexion (bending), and I'm well over that already. Full extension is also important, and that is somewhat more difficult but I'm almost completely there now. From everything I hear I'm ahead of schedule, which doesn't feel possible with the way things are going, but it's nice to hear at least. For the next 3 weeks the goal is walking without a limp- that's very exciting. That means returning to work and starting to exercise. I really really really cannot wait for that, it's been so annoyingly awful to just have to sit around with nothing to do. Until then it's just continuing with rehab and getting more comfortable walking. The very faint light at the end of the tunnel is getting slightly brighter. 24 week process, 20 more to go.

Day 20: Depression

     It's not real good today. The convention was this weekend and it went as well as it could I suppose- a lot of sitting at the seat and getting sympathy from people, which makes me very uncomfortable. Taking the stairs was exhausting. Really everything was exhausting, even just walking around. It was an excellent program though, definitely worth the effort required. If not for mom, there's no way I could have gone. There will be no Spanish convention for me this week :(, just not up to it yet. So frustrating.

     Not sure why, but a big depression hit today. Writing about it is already helping. It's been annoying being stuck inside so far, but today it's especially sad. I feel completely useless, unable to do much beyond basic taking-care-of-self tasks. Simply walking to the kitchen is an activity that requires preparation, and driving somewhere is an obstacle that feels insurmountable. Not to sound elitist, but I don't know how people would rather do this kind of thing than work. I couldn't take it. I can't wait to get back to work and feel like I'm contributing something to society again. No meetings, no service, no nothing- it's taking a toll. This is the last terrible week before I can start doing more intense rehab work, and I can't wait. This is awful.

Day 14: Monotony

     My surgeon told me before the operation that the first month after surgery "sucked". That's a direct quote. For the first week, I understood what he meant- fever-like symptoms, intense pain, difficulty doing anything (including simply lying on a bed), and a drug-induced haze that made it difficult to focus on anything in the world around. Tomorrow marks 2 weeks since the operation, and things are starting to shift to a second tier of sucking. The pain has largely subsided- there's still a lot of soreness, but the intense, burning, horrible stuff has largely gone away. Now begins the boredom. The recovery is right in between 2 stages- not so bad that I'm completely bed-ridden and unable to do anything, but not well enough to be up and about and mobile.

     Today marked the first check-in with the surgeon post-op, and things went pretty well. The stitches were removed (meaning no more garbage bag over the leg for showering), and he seemed very encouraged by where I was at so far. I can lay my leg completely straight against the ground, and can bend it more than 90 degrees, which I guess is a very good sign only 2 weeks out from the operation. That made me feel better, because to me the last 2 weeks have felt like an eternity, and I was wondering if anything was actually being accomplished. He also gave me more pain medication, so that aforementioned soreness is no more. That's real nice.

     Since we were in town for the check-in and the convention is this upcoming weekend, I decided to move back into my place and try to take care of myself from here on out. It's not going as well as I would have hoped. After a Costco run, I attempted to cook some chicken for lunch and mom had to finish it because simply walking (correction: hobbling) around the kitchen was too tiring for me, apparently. She's been really great, and if you ever need to have an operation done, I suggest having an amazing family to look out for you. I have no idea what I'd do without her.

     Chicken episode aside, things have been progressing well in this little experiment. I was able to fill the polar machine myself (for icing down the knee), which is key. I just made dinner as well, and with no mom here I had to push through the fatigue. It's incredibly annoying to have something like walking to the kitchen make you feel like you've just run a marathon. I can't wait for that part to be over with.

     Things are progressing about as quickly as they can, but it's still incredibly boring and frustrating. It's a 16-24 week process and I'm 2 weeks in. Just have to keep saying that over and over. The one nice thing is that the human body and mind seem able to adapt to almost any circumstance. It's really incredible- I remember my dad describing aging to me once. He used to love playing sports, but obviously as he's gotten older he can't really do much any more. He told me that, though he misses being able to run and jump around, he has no desire to actually do it right now. His body has adjusted.

     I was worried that having this operation in the summer would mean I'd be itching to run outside and shoot hoops or go to the skatepark or play football, but it's been just the opposite. I'm obviously looking forward to doing all those things again, but my body and mind seem completely adjusted to the current circumstances- I have no desire to do them at the moment. I know those days will come again, but it's nice that the mind doesn't rush back into them. It's content to sit here and heal instead.

     I'm 2 weeks away from things starting to feel normal again. With any luck, I'll be off the crutches in time for the Spanish convention. It's nice to see progress, even if it isn't moving as fast as I'd like.

Day 7: Clear-headed

     It's the end of the first week, and already the pain meds aren't required any longer. I took 2 yesterday, and as of today at 8 PM all I've taken is an aspirin. Again, modern medicine is amazing to me. They were able to tell exactly how long I'd need them and give out just enough to last that long. The body is working much smoother now without all that opium, and the only remaining issue is fatigue, which I would attribute to a lot of energy being spent on repairing the knee.

     The exercises are continuing and getting easier already, which is also crazy. Things are moving pretty quickly, but at the same time there's still no walking and a lot of soreness. It's hard to remember that this is a 24 week process, and there's still 23 weeks to go. Patience is already getting difficult to maintain.

     There are 2 rehab appointments this week, one tomorrow and one Friday, and then a check-in with the surgeon next Tuesday. Then the weekend after that is the English convention- I'm aiming for that to be when I can move back home. Here's hoping. The head is still down and I'm plugging right along.

Day 4: Miniature Milestones

     After any sort of major procedure like this, it's always funny which things are used as markers for progress. Simply bending my leg a few degrees at this point is a major achievement. Going number 2 for the first time is also a big one (trust me). And I was able to achieve another minor milestone today: finally taking a shower. It had been 3 1/2 days since I last bathed, so I was very much looking forward to it. Since the incisions on the knee are covered with gauze pads and wrapped up, you have to keep them dry- no water should get anywhere near the incisions at this early stage. So what you do is take off the brace, polar treatment bag, and ace bandage, then put a trash bag over the gauze and such and tape that baby down on each side so no water can get underneath it. It worked very well, and my parents have a handy little stool to sit on in the shower which was very very knee-friendly.

     After that was over with, it was time to change the dressing directly on the incisions, which meant getting a look at the actual knee for the first time since the operation. Here's what it looked like:

     Pay no attention to my ramblings. Considering the ordeal that knee has been through in the last 72 hours, that's pretty amazing. There are 3 incisions on the top where the arthroscope, drill, and various other surgical tools were inserted. There's also another incision somewhere on the back of my leg where they took the sections of hamstring to make the new ligament, but they were so unnoticeable that I couldn't see where they were. At every step along this process modern medicine has really surprised me (not to mention made me glad to be born when I was).

     At this point I guess my next minor milestone is being able to bear any sort of weight at all on the injured knee. I'm continuing with the light rehab exercises I've been given, and hopefully within 1-2 weeks I can walk on my own again. I think updates on here will be a little sparser as things proceed, mostly because the monotony of these first few days just doesn't provide very compelling images or descriptions. I can't wait to be better, but this is definitely an interesting experience to go through.

Day 3: HOOOOOOO boy

     Remember the nerve block I told you about? I sure do. I'm remembering it and pining for it like nothing I've ever wanted in my life. Its job was to numb the top of the leg down to the kneecap, since that's where the incisions were made and the drill was used on the bone. It must have finally worn off last night because kabloom. Today is really really bad. So painful that I can hardly sit up. I kept up with the medication throughout the night, but I'm thinking I under-did it. Today is the first of many rehab appointments, and I have no clue what I'll be able to do. I can barely walk on crutches! I can also hardly string sentences together thanks to the combo of an early morning and a lot of pain pills. I'll check back in after the morning appointment.

     Update: Physical therapy was a big win. He showed me how the brace works, and told me that I can finally take it off from time to time. I'd been really worried about over-extending or doing something to screw up the surgery, but he assured me that you really can't do too much damage. As long as the pain is tolerable, then keep up the exercises. That's all I needed to hear, away I went. He showed me a few basic stretches and leg lifts to do for now, just a few times a day to start restoring range of motion. It was like magic- the knee felt 200x better on the ride home from the session. The journey to walking on my own has already begun in earnest.

     I'm becoming much less a fan of painkillers. They sure do work, but they affect your personality in weird ways. Lethargy is common, obviously, which is annoying but to be expected. However they also make you (well, me at least) REALLY irritable when put into situations with any amount of stress or conflict. They make impulse and emotion control much more difficult. I'll be glad to be done with them, the sooner the better.

     Tomorrow is the first shower, another in a series of mini milestones in the first week. Really looking forward to that, haven't been able to shower since Tuesday night (!).

Day 2: drugs drugs drugs

and more drugs.

     That'll be the view for the next week or so, interrupted only for trips to the bathroom. Of which there are mannny. Turns out drugs come out in your urine, and they don't like to hang around. They come out often. The little blue hose running off to the right is hooked up to a machine with ice and cold water which constantly circulates around the knee to keep swelling down. It must be disconnected and shut off for each bathroom trip.

     I see why some people like painkillers so much- my sleep last night was interrupted every 4 hours or so because I needed to take more pills, yet I feel great today. The drugs seemed to affect sleep quality for the better. Also, normally in the morning I have sore shoulders and my neck doesn't feel great, but today the only issue is slight pain in the knee. Nothing else seems to feel like anything, which is real nice. That said, the tradeoffs (dizziness while walking, frequent trips to the bathroom, general grogginess) are such that I'll be glad when I don't have to take them anymore. Every 4 hours I take 2 vicodin, then 2 hours later it's a pill for "adjunct pain", an aspirin every morning, and a laxative (good times) 3 times a day. Also they threw in oxycontin just for the fun of it. I'm pretty much a walking pharmacy.

     Injuries which make one immobile are not great for people with low self-esteem, because you're completely reliant on other people to do almost everything for you. I'm not a fan of having to ask people for things, which makes it tough when now I have to ask someone for EVERYTHING. It feels like I'm 5 or 6 again. I'm not entirely sure what I'd do without my family, I'd be reliant on FRIENDS! I think I would feel so terrible that I would just fold up into a little ball and not ask for anything. Everyone has been super great though, it's a real blessing to have a family and so many brothers and sisters who check to see how you're doing.

     But enough sappy garbage. Today is all sitting around, then tomorrow is the first therapy check-in. According to my little cheat sheet, the milestone for phase 1 (0-3 weeks) is walking normally without crutches. I look forward to meeting that. The final milestone is return to full activity after 6 months or so. It's a long road but I'm pretty determined to make it all the way back and then some.

Day 1: Recovery

     I walk in at 7 AM, hospital registration, pre-payment, waiting, answering questions, getting an IV, putting on the hospital gown that more resembled something an astronaut would wear than something you'd find on a patient, getting nice warm air pumped into said gown because "the surgeons like you to be warm (.....?), waiting, talking to 1 of 3 anesthesiologists I would meet today, getting my knee shaved (that section of the leg now looks like it belongs to a 2 year old, or maybe a newborn infant), figuring out the TV, waiting. Blood pressure. Waiting. For the first of 3 or 4 times I am asked my name, birthdate, and type of surgery. I feel assured that they will not bring me to the wrong place and/or operate on the wrong thing.


     Finally, into a wheelchair and off to the recovery room for a nerve block. This is where they pump some sort of medication in your femoral artery to numb the top of your leg down to your knee. Since the arthroscopic incisions are on the top of the knee, this helps with the post-op pain- at least in theory (I can report, sitting here a few hours after the procedure, that while it helps, it also makes your leg feel like it's asleep. A rather unpleasant side effect, but I guess it's worth it). The nurses are great, one is training in and I can tell she's shy. She lets the other one take the lead, but speaks up from time to time. I engage them in some conversation about their job, they hook up heart  monitors and o2 sat level detectors along with oxygen in my nose. Again they ask my Name, birthdate, and type of surgery. I am fairly sure that the correct procedure will be taking place. Prior to the nerve block they give me verced, which is a medicine given for anti anxiety. I can report that it does its job. My pulse is below 70 and I feel gooooooood. Blood pressure. Wait. The aforementioned anesthesiologist enters and injects the nerve block. It's not comfortable. I am asked again my name, birthdate, and type of surgery. I am almost entirely convinced that the correct part will be operated on by the right person.

     A nurse appears and whisks me away to the OR. I've never been wheeled around this much in my life. A 2nd anesthesiologist appears over me as I roll and says he'll be in the room with me. Seems like a nice guy and, more importantly, like he knows what he's talking about. The OR is really cold. I'm moved from the recovery bed to the table as wires and cables are hooked in in many places. Things seem to be being done by people who know what they're doing. Over my face goes a mask, oxygen they say. Breathe deep. For a final time I'm asked my name, birthdate, and the type of surgery that will be performed. Both my name and surgery type are written on a markerboard on the wall, but I pretend I haven't seen this. 1000% sure I'm in the right place at this point. I wait....

     I wake up what feels like seconds later back in the recovery room, only this time I feel as though I drank 20 beers and headed to bed without brushing teeth or drinking water. Mouth is dry and has a horrible taste, head is groggy. It's difficult to see and OH DEAR LORD MY KNEE OWWWWWWWWWWWWW OWW OWWW OWWWWWWWWW. The pain is not cool. It feels as though my leg has both fallen asleep and been rooted around in with a hand mixer. I bring this to the attention of my nurse standing by the bed. She pushes a painkiller of some sort through the IV and in so doing becomes the love of my life. The pain sticks around and then slips off into the night, leaving me feeling nice but still lucid enough to converse with the nurse and make her laugh a couple times. Win. She informs me the surgery took 3 hours and that it's almost 1 PM. It literally feels as though it was 9:30 just 10 minutes earlier from my perspective. A few more pushes through the IV and my knee suddenly feels like it's not even there. Uncomfortable to move, but not in seething pain.

     Off we go (being rolled yet again) to an individual room. En route I see my mom for the first time, a really welcome sight. She drove up from Fergus to take me home. Suddenly I see an advantage to marriage- were I married, she wouldn't have to worry about it. Touché, marriage. Touché.  I'm asked again for my name and date of birth, which seems odd given that I am laying there with my knee in what resembles a cast. If I'm lying, I sure got away with it. I prove my lucidity by expertly answering these impossible questions and the nurse seems satisfied. More waiting. Food. Wonderful, delightful, amazing food. It's only toast and chicken noodle soup, but I haven't eaten in 18 hours so I may as well be at a Ruth's Criss. The nurse details my drugs: 3 for pain, one for poopin, and 1 aspirin. Seems odd that they prescribe aspirin, but I'm no doctor so what do I know?

     Off to the pharmacy to get those scripts filled. I'm really thankful I remembered my pharmacy insurance card. The Pharmacist is my age and super cute. That helped. Suddenly we are out the door, just 6 hours after I arrive I'm sitting in my passenger seat being driven home by mom. This is a surgery that ended Gayle Sayers' career 50 years ago, but I'm in and out of the hospital in 6 hours. Thanks for having me during the time of modern medicine, parents!

     And here we go, therapy starts in 2 days and until then I lay here with an ice machine pumping cold water around my knee. I have my alarm set for every 4 hours to take more drugs and it's time to start getting better. It's been a year since I could run full speed or play sports unhindered, I'm ready to be done with that. Time to attack this rehab with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind.