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.
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.
