"Would I Do It Again?"

According to my doctor, my surgeon, and my physical therapists, my "job" for the last twelve weeks has been all about recuperating from a full knee replacement surgery.  It's been a blur of painkillers, physical therapy and doctor appointments, and a constantly revolving schedule of exercises alternated with icing and elevating my leg.  I have had to relearn how to flex and straighten my knee, something which sounds easy unless you are the one doing the learning.

The bend in my knee a week after surgery was at 60 degrees with the therapist pushing my leg into the bend.  Ideally, getting a bend of 120-130 degrees was the goal.  On the other hand, I was minus 15 degrees from a totally straight leg, meaning my leg needed some hard lessons in straightening until it reached 0 degrees.

I am happy to say I have finally reached a constant 120 degree bend on my own (with a 125 degree bend if my PT adds some weight to it).  I have also reached zero degrees when straightening my leg,  I have come a long way, but not without the usual struggles and painstaking hard work.

I was very afraid before surgery that I would fail in my endeavor to regain full use of my leg.  I know me, and I know that I am entirely capable of shirking my duties if it involves pain.  It's called "waiting for magic to happen" and I wouldn't be honest if I didn't share with you how often I have found myself praying for magic to surround me and take my pain away.  It is so very much easier to close my eyes and pretend that something is not happening and wait for that something to change without my lifting a finger to help it along.  This strategy has worked just often enough to make it worthwhile to try again the next time I am in a difficult situation.

Fortunately, the other side of me is a hard worker that won't allow myself to fail.  I don't enjoy failure and I loathe myself when I allow failure to win over triumph.  I like to think of myself as a strong, independent person, who can face any wild beast with one cocked eyebrow and a glint of steel in my eye.  When I have had my fill of failing because magic once again did not appear to save my loathsome self, I usually drag out my shield and sword and commence kicking some ass.

Sure enough, both things happened.  The constant screeching pain whipped me into a pile of sludge that hoped I could survive this trauma without creating more agony.  I didn't want to do the exercises that everyone said I had to do, in order to be able to walk with dignity and without pain in my future.  I didn't even want to consider the consequences of ignoring the essential work of healing from major surgery.  I just wanted it to all go away magically... I even hoped that I would heal and mend and just get up and easily walk without pain one day without any effort on my part to ensure the success of my healing.

What created the change, where I began taking control of my healing, was my partner, Patty, insisting that she had faith that I would get through this, because she knew what a hard worker I am.  This and the fear of failure pushed me into doing the extremely tough work I needed to succeed.  The exercises were brutal and the pain was ever constant for the first five weeks and it certainly did not help that my remaining original knee was still bone on bone and continued to cause the excruciating pain I had become used to for the last ten years, or so.

Regardless, I donned my armor and picked up my sword and shield and I did those exercises over and over again, according to the instructions of my physical therapists and with the help of my sister, Lynnette (who lent me some courage, as well.)  I walked with a walker and I bent and straightened my new knee until progress was not only noted by my physical therapists and my family, but hope for my future walking ability had become a reality, rather than a magical dream.

Would I do it again??  Would I voluntarily allow my absolutely incredible surgeon and his quick witted assistant to surgically cut my leg open and remove my entire damaged knee joint and then hammer in a brand new titanium knee joint?  Would I face the agony of recovery again?

You bet I would!!!

Now, if you asked me that question during the first three weeks of recovery, my answer might have been a loud and resounding NO!  I was fuzzy with painkillers taken every four hours on the dot and I hadn't yet put together the final puzzle pieces that would change my answer.  In fact, it took me some weeks to put together the fact that the incredible pain I experienced when walking was doubled or tripled... maybe, quadrupled by the fact that I was trying to walk with one knee still bone on bone, while the other was traumatized by major surgery.  That, in itself, is what changed my answer.

I expect my next knee replacement surgery and recovery to be far easier than the first.  I will have my new left knee, strong and stable, to help guide me through the process.  I will have my memories of what it took to struggle through the first recovery.  I will have my trusty sword, newly sharpened, to take on those wild beasts, while my shield will be shined and buffed with the success of my previous battles.

And, I will have my partner encouraging me with her knowledge of who I am; I will have my sister, willing and able to coax me out of bed to do my exercises and walk, walk, walk, while lifting my spirits with jello; I will have both Patty and Lynnette toting my Cryo-Cuff machine back and forth, filling it with ice, and tenderly wrapping my swollen knee, while propping pillows under my leg for elevation; and I will have the incredible support of all of my family and friends, who love me and wish only the best for my future.

"Those Were The Days, My Friends!"

The last couple of months have been extraordinary for me and my family.  First, I became a great-grandmother for the first time ever.  Brooklyn is her name and she is full of sunshine.  Her mama and daddy are totally in love with their little girl, and I am filled with hope and excitement for this family's future.  Having myself come from a dysfunctional family, it is definitely good to see active parenting and the joy in their eyes when they look at this precious girl.

Second, I have started a new soon-to-be non-profit organization called The Reuben Project.  Our mission is to organize knitters, crocheters, folks who sew, and crafters with the objective being to bring new, handcrafted, warm and colorful hats and scarves to the citizens who live without the safety of a house on the streets of my city.  We believe that the giving of handmade gifts to folks who have so little will help nourish the souls of recipient and crafter alike.  This has taken a great deal of my time and The Reuben Project is still in its infancy, but it is rewarding work.**

Third, and definitely not last, I have finally reached my goal BMI for my knee replacement surgery.  My surgeon advised me that he would perform the surgery as soon as my BMI was 40.0 AND as of today, it is!  I am still obese, but I am overjoyed to tell you folks that I have now lost a total of 97 lbs.  It has not been all fun and games by any means, and I am sure that the next 83 or so pounds will not come off any easier than the last 97, but I am only 3 lbs away from hitting that magic number of 100 lbs lost.  Unbelievable.

With surgery set just 9 days away on February 15th, the abstract "someday I will be able to walk" is becoming real, along with the anticipatory panic of "I can't believe I am going to allow a man with a knife near my body."  This journey I am on is all based on trust and hopeful optimism.  I trust that I am capable of losing weight; I trust that I will be able to recuperate well through rigorous physical therapy and activity; I even trust that my surgeon is not just any man with a knife, but a skilled doctor who works exclusively with knees and has many years of applied service in the operating room.  I am hopeful that everything I am trusting will come to fruition and I will someday soon be able to take a walk around the block without hobbling in constant painful agony.

I have always said that one of the key reasons for writing this blog is to leave a memory of my journey in written words, so that I cannot forget or ignore my past.  When an abscessed tooth has you writhing in agony, that is all you can think about.  It expands its fierce hold on your mind and fills you with terror that is crippling.  But after you have visited the dentist and had the infected tooth treated with antibiotics, extraction, or crowning, you are eased into a different kind of pain that is easier to handle.  You are no longer obsessed with excruciating agony, but are instead transported to a hope-filled world of knowing it will soon be over.  Later, when you have recuperated and no longer have any pain in your mouth, you quickly forget the actual agony you just went through... it becomes intellectual, rather than visceral, and life is then worthwhile once again.

 

I am hoping that this analogy can be applied to my journey to knee replacement therapy, and that soon this constant sharp pain in my knees with be a distant memory of my past.  However, I do not ever wish to lose sight of what I have gone through to get to that place, because it is in forgetting that I become vulnerable to redoing my past mistakes.  Therefore, I need to put into words what happens when I ignore my body's needs and give in to ridiculous thinking, or as some call it, magical thinking.  

An excellent example of my ridiculous thinking would be thus:  "One Snickers a day won't hurt... it will help me forget about cigarettes."  Believe it or not, this was my mantra when I quite smoking in 1994.  I took myself straight to Costco (a big box warehouse style store) and purchased a large box of Snickers candy bars... a box that contained 48 full size bars that were only 250 calories each.  I managed to gain 90+ lbs that first year of abstaining from cigarettes.  "Why?" you ask.  Because it simply didn't stop there... one Snickers a day to stave off nicotine cravings became two, then three a day.  And, candy once again found its way into my daily diet and soon became an obsession with horrifying consequences.  Before I knew it, I was suddenly 316 lbs and could barely move at all, without huffing and puffing, and mouth breathing whenever I was forced to walk.  The pain in my knees had begun, but was not as great then, probably because I still had some cartilage, but movement was definitely a luxury.  My ridiculous, magical thinking had led me into a dangerous thicket of brambles and I was lost, unable to move without being pricked and stabbed with the sharp thorns of my faulty thinking.

There is so much I need to remember and never lose sight of.  So much that I have already begun to forget while losing this 97 lbs.  While it is important to keep a visceral image of the pain I experienced throughout this journey, it may be more important to remember that sugar and salt are my enemies when they are used without compulsion.  It doesn't take much before I am sniffing the ground to hunt down every bit of sugar and salt that I can find and indulge my taste buds with.  

Just a few months ago, I had some very yummy, luxurious, expensive caramels as a tasty treat.  Needless to say, I was soon hooked on caramels and the way they melt in your mouth with that lovely combination of sugar and salt.  I bought package after package of this particular brand of caramels and indulged more and more each day until I was needing to purchase two-three bags per week.  Because these caramels were exquisite, they were priced higher than the ordinary Kraft caramel variety, which is mostly sugar combined with a bare taste of caramel.  I knew my family couldn't bear the expense of the higher priced caramels when purchased in a large quantity, so what do you think I did?  Did I quit eating them?  Did I pare down to a reasonable number of caramels?  Certainly not.  I am nothing if not compulsive and extreme in my behavior towards food, snacks, and addictive substances. I started buying Kraft caramels.  With Kraft, I was able to up my intake of the caramels AND spend less, because they were on sale during the holidays.  At first it did not show on the scale, but by the time I was eating a third of a bag of Kraft caramels a day, my weight was already going up, and I was seriously scared that it was not just my usual water weight fluctuation.  

So the question is, how many times do I have to walk the same path, with the same results, before I figure out that path is full of shame and dangerous to my life?  Unfortunately, I suspect that I will be vulnerable to ridiculous thinking all of my life.  If one is good, two or three have to be better, right?  I am an addict and I will always be vulnerable to substance abuse.  I cannot escape that truth, but I do not have to let it take me for a ride.  It is my responsibility to concentrate and focus my energy on those things that allow me to feel good about myself.  And, as one of my tools, this blog gives me immediate access and allows me to relive these rocky days in my journey, before I am left with only an intellectual memory of my days as someone without hope of escaping the constant daily severe agony of barely walking, while hiding the shame .

**Currently, The Reuben Project can be found on Facebook under the same name, or click The Reuben Project link listed under Working for Equality and Social Justice on the right hand side of my blog.  We are always in need of supplies and materials.  If you are interested in supporting our work, you may contact me on The Reuben Project Facebook page, or visit the medusaCreations shop on Etsy, where 20% of all net profits are donated to the project.  

The Reuben Project:    https://www.facebook.com/groups/932844190131890/  

medusaCreations Shop:  https://www.etsy.com/shop/medusaCreations?ref=hdr_shop_menu