Happy Knee Year!
“So,” I hear you asking, “what’s it like having a total knee replacement surgery over the holidays?”
Inquiring minds want to know.
I’ve gotten tons of emails, and the forum has several threads on the subject.
Short answer: it’s like those 5-star, luxury beach-front, white-sand resorts where celebrities go to clean out while their merest whims are being catered to. Only, without the sand, luxury, food, and whim stuff.
Well, to be honest, the actual surgery was kind of a non-issue. I had a complete spinal block, which means that although I was partially conscious inside a blue-green tent during the operation (yes, I could hear the saw), i didn’t feel a thing. Except the telephone-pole sized needles going into my spine. I felt those.
Since the operation, pain-pills have been available to manage the pain, but there hasn’t been anywhere near the amount of pain you would expect if you saw the incision.
What’s more interesting to me is the major changes in my life brought on by the blood-thinning medicine I’m on.
I had already quit drinking- cold turkey- and, after the initial shock to my system, I was used to that by surgery time. I quit drinking, cut out dairy, and cut WAY back on the carbs in response to a health report from my MD that was remarkably positive. I’m way healthier than I have any right to be considering the life I’ve lived. So, bring down the triglycerides and that’s it? No problem.
In my weaker moments, I point out that some people require rehab to quit drinking. Some people write songs about rehab and get rich. Some celebrities hire “personal assistants” to help them manage their alcohol intake. I quit alcohol cold-turkey.
At least I had my cigars and my mood-enhancing supplements, right?
Back in the day, I- like millions of Americans- was diagnosed with depression. Medication was prescribed. Therapy ensued. Unlike most, I responded well to the therapy and drugs, and now treat the chemical side of the depression with a variety of supplements- all of which have been prescribed by either my MD or a trusted health expert. I’m not recommending anything to anybody, but I am pointing out that instead of mind-numbing doses of effexor and/or paxil, a few over-the-counter herbs keep me going.
Who knows? Maybe it’s the placebo effect. However, I know that the first thing I grab in the morning- before I make my morning coffee- is the mood-enhancing supplements.
All of which my surgeon has demanded that I stop using until the blood-thinning medicine is no longer needed.
Great. No alcohol. No supplements.
OK. It’s Christmas in America, I haven’t spoken to my birth family in years
(they’re still waiting for me to get a job, pissed off that I didn’t get a job and still got rich, pissed off that they hate their jobs, I love what I do, and it’s somehow my fault that they worked thirty years at a job they hate and can’t afford to retire- and- last I heard- the fact that I drive a Volvo is a major problem for them. That’s the oddest thing… Apparently, Volvos lead to communism. Or worse),
the kids are all grown and having adventures that make me jealous, my friends are all hanging out with their families and taking trips to exciting places, and I’m home with my pain meds. No alcohol to ring in the new year. No anti-depressant sparkly chemicals to brighten up the lonely, painful days.
At least I’ve got my cigars, right?
The last of my addictions. My comfort when I’m lonely, and the one friend I can count on every time…
Right?
Did I mention that I got a case of very, very good cigars for Christmas? At least I’ve got those to fall back on during this already depressing and painful holiday season, right?
Wrong.
Cigars- chewing and smoking- constrict the blood vessels. No tobacco while on blood-thinner.
At least I’m handling it like a man. Right?
Betsy just informed me that she was holding the place of the responsible adult in this relationship, by making sure that I did all the stuff the surgeon, physical therapist and MD said to do. I, apparently, am holding the space of the bitchy brat who wants a cigar and martini very, very badly.
We all have our roles to play.
It’s not like the surgery- and subsequent recovery- hasn’t been without its spots of humor.
Right now I’m trying to edit the story of my first post-surgery whizz into something the whole family can enjoy. Right now, it wouldn’t get past the ratings board. Or Betsy.
We can also talk about the sad psychopaths who get chosen to work the post-op nurse’s station on Christmas day. There’s some humor in there, but I have to mine past my anger to get to it.
3 Responsesto “Happy Knee Year!”
Pat’s Network
Join Pat on Facebook
Hoping you have a speedy recovery. This comment should prove that I can follow directions as to the procedure for commenting. Think that you either need to work on your “psychic abilities” or get your tongue from not being so firmly pressed against your cheek.
[...] Happy Knee Year! “So,” I hear you asking, “what’s it like having a total knee replacement surgery over the h… Read more… Mail this post [...]
Hey Pat,
If you’d shot yourself in the knee early last year, that mighta saved this operation.
Colin
Hi Pat,
I shouldn’t be surprised that they’d can do a knee replacement with an epidural. You’re braver than I am! Once in a while, I’d tune into watch “The Operation” and had no problem with watching how they did many of the procedures – except the hip replacement show. Ugh. The saw and hammering just made my stomach knot up – had to turn it off. So, there you are – only it’s your own knee! You got through it!
Sounds like you had a knee and habit replacement! Good for you! (Literally). Here’s to your vibrant health.
Happy New Year to you and Betsy.
Much Light,
Nancy