Mother ocean and gratitude

So, I took a great bike ride with Oren the other day. We went and rode along Ocean Beach I often look to the water and long to go in. But I know better. It's not time yet. I have a healthy respect for the ocean -- especially this one, where the tides can grab you with great force and pull you under before you know what's happening. I tell people the closest I ever came to dying was at Ocean Beach. I had just gotten my wetsuit, a gift from my girlfriend, and was getting used to the idea that I could go into the Ocean in Northern California. Having grown up in Southern California, I lived to go to the beach. But even Newport, with waves that often hit 8 and 10 feet, was nothing compared to the much colder and much fiercer Pacific of the Northern California Coast. Anyhow, I was an avid bodysurfer then. Didn't really like boogie boarding. Didn't like having something tied to me. Didn't like to have something between me and the water. There's something very zen about body surfing. It's just you and the wave. Hell,I didn't even like the wetsuit, but with temperatures hovering in the 40s, it was necessary. But there's a reason you don't see many body surfers here. It's too hard. So I ventured in the water. This was maybe ten years ago.

It was a cold San Francisco morning. Summer and foggy. Like that's unusual. There was a fisherman on the beach and I could see a few surfers off in the distance, little black dots set against the steel of the sky and ocean. Within a few feet of entering the water, I knew I had misjudged. I was in over my head. The waves, albeit smallish (only a few feet) were crashing every few seconds, forming beautiful tubes that felt like lead blankets dropped recklessly from above. I was ducking every one. But the pull under the water was just as strong. Like someone was grabbing my legs and trying to wrench them toward the deeper water. I was getting tired. Fast. My breath was hard and I felt my lungs expand and hurt like they used to as a kid playing backyard baseball on a smoggy LA day. I looked out for the surfers and the fisherman. They were too far away. They probably didn't even know I was in the water. And I knew right then I had made a bad mistake. I had been too cocky, too naive. I didn't know this ocean. Not like I know it now. I didn't know about the millions of gallons that poured from the mouth of the Golden Gate Bridge just around the bend, or the underwater mountainous terrain. And yes, I didn't know my own skill level. The thing about surfing (and I include bodyboarding and bodysurfing in this) is that you have to know your limits. You have to know with realistic precision, just how good you are; just how much you can take. Yes, you want to challenge yourself. It's part of the fun. But if you misjudge yourself or the ocean, you can pay a price. And the price I could pay was my own death. Yeah, maybe I'm all drama (as my friend Teena likes to say). But I'm telling you, this is how people drown. This is how people die. They struggle. They fight. They get tired. They think they can win. They act on instinct and fear. But the ocean is too big, too fierce, too relentless. It always wins. It's not personal. The ocean just does what it does. And if you fight it, you lose. You get tired. A wave comes that you can't fight and it pulls you under. Or out. Sounds like some kind of bad cliche, I know. But that's the way it is. People die at Ocean Beach. I wrote about one summer where seven people died, making it the deadliest beach in the world. It's lessons like this that make me love the ocean. It's taught me a lot. At this moment, it was teaching me humility. And it was forcing me to be sane in the middle of my insanity. CALM DOWN, I told myself. It was a matter of life and death. Be calm. STOP FIGHTING. So I did. I did the ragdoll thing that I had learned to do as a kid at Newport and Santa Monica beaches. When the wave has you under, go limp. Don't fight. Surfers call it going Zen. Let myself be tossed by the waves. I knew if I could bring my head up to gulp some air I'd be OK. I was afraid. I tried to slow my heart down. Slow my breath.

And I kept thinking one thought: I don't want to die.

I had always thought that in the moment before death, should you know what is happening, you would think big thoughts. Profound thoughts about all the things you wished you'd done and all the things you wished you hadn't. You'd think about your parents and your kids and your lovers and friends. Maybe you'd think about your pets or places you loved. Whatever was important to you. But I realized in that moment, that if I died right then and there, I'd die thinking this: I don't want to die. Sometimes it takes facing death to make you realize how much you want to live. When I'm down I sometimes return to that moment. There was no part of me, not one little iota of me, that wanted to die, that wanted to end it. I have an intense and strong will to live -- and to live well. Sometimes I hide it. But I know it's there.

Obviously, I made it out. And yes, to those of you who know I'm prone to a little bit of drama, I probably wasn't in as much danger as I thought I was. But that doesn't matter.

I was talking to a friend the other night. I've fought with depression some during my life. Sometimes it seems like this demon hovering over my shoulder, this dark presence that threatens to swallow me when times get rough. So far it hasn't. But you know, I haven't always been sure I could escape it. If there was ever time to fall into a depression, it could have happened this time. This surgery. Maybe that's why this ocean story is hitting me. I hadn't planned on writing about this but sometimes the words come out and I figure out why later. Now I think I know why. This surgery has been a lot like that experience. Bigger than me. And threatening. And scary. But the difference is that this time when I was panicking under the water, I wasn't alone. I've had all of you out there pulling me out, pulling me through. I know this sounds sappy. I'm not usually so corny (despite my name). But it's true. When I first started this blog, I had the faintest of ideas that it would become popular -- maybe a few thousand, maybe more. Maybe strangers would come and read it because they were interested in knee replacement surgeries. But as it's gone on, I've seen that my readers are exactly who they should be; people who know me; people who care. And that feels like it should be. I'm still in it. I'm still wet and cold and scared (to use the ocean analogy). But I feel like I'm finally climbing out of the water, breathless and shaking, but realizing that I'm going to make it. That I'm full of life and happy to be here. And I'm going to get through this.

Anyhow, this is not at all what I set out to write. I was going to talk about how I've stayed in bed the last 24 hours with some kind of stomach thing -- maybe even a reaction to the water and bike ride the other day. But I realize this was what I needed to say. Maybe it's a little more personal, a little rougher, than I usually get. But so be it. I'll get to the other stuff later.

PS I took this picture years ago of a small rock at the beach

she's alive....

It's really been a long time and I do have so much to say. . . I might even go over some old posts that I wrote but didn't post because I didn't have time to check them over for typos. And so the story is that the manipulation went really, really well. Before I haven't done, I was spending too about 90° -- maybe pushing to 100° or so. That's not very much. Lie on your back and bend your knee to a right angle. That's about all I had. It's not enough to bike or anything like that. But I have to say that my physical therapist, June, from UCSF was really skeptical. She seen people come out of manipulations a lot worse than they went in. Anyhow, I know I've written about this but it helps to start from that point. Because that's the point where everything changed. So when I went into UCSF, they gave me a spinal to numb things out below my waist. And the doctor came in and basically bent my leg. He got it bent about 130°. Then for the next three days I stayed in the hospital. They kept me on an epidural so I was getting a constant dose of medication that was basically taking away the majority of the pain in my knee. They were also heavily medicating me. So the best part about being in the hospital was that I had three days of not being in pain. I was so happy. It's funny because I was worried that I had been taking too much medication. What I realized is that I have not been taking enough. I've been taking it enough just to take the edge off. But I was still in serious pain so I really couldn't push past anything. I'm still taking medication. I'm still hurting but not as much. And I can definitely see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I'm jumping ahead of myself.

Well, not really. Going to UCSF was amazing. It made me appreciate being in a good hospital. And it made me realize how bad the care was at the previous hospital. It wasn't that they were terrible there. But they left me there for days without basically much medical attention. You read all about me having to beg for my pain medication so I'm not going to go through that again. My only criticism of UCSF is that I kept saying that I think I had a bladder infection (they catheterize you after this procedure) and they kept saying that I didn't. I went home that first day and ran a fever of 102°. I had a bladder infection. But that's a small thing. (Yes I took the whole course of antibiotics and I'm fine). Anyhow, ever since the hospital, my knee has been much much better. In fact, I'm able to bend so much that our main concern right now straightening. The other day I was able to bend to almost 140° in physical therapy. That's almost as much as my other knee. And here's the really big news: I'm riding my bike. As in -- outside. I did a 10 mile ride on Friday and a 7 mile ride on Sunday. I'm not going to win any races. I go very, very slowly. But it's pretty amazing that I can do it. In fact, it hurts less to ride my bike than it does to walk. The only problem I'm having now it is I'm getting some numbness and tingling in my hands so I have to readjust my bicycle. My physical therapist said this is a common problem that I can avert by keeping my hands straight. But she also said that bicycling is probably going to be my sport of choice.

My next doctor's appointment is at the end of the month and I expect that I'll be going back to work soon after. So basically, I'm working on riding my bike, getting in shape, and straightening my leg. And soon I will completely be able to wean myself off the pain medication although right now I really need still. I wake up several times a night still in a lot of pain. My knee is still warm to the touch but it's not as hot as it once was.

I will promise to post more soon. But I just wanted to catch up those of you who are still reading my blog. Which I appreciate. Right now, Kali is biting my ankle so I better go feed her. (My cat).

PS These are blossoms from the tree in front of my house. Spring is here!

One pill makes you ....

better. So, Cesa ran out and got me some antibiotics (and I took some Tylenol) and my fever went away. I feel much better (but of course, now have one more thing to take -- gotta finish the antibiotics, or "biotics" as Aunt Betty calls them.) I managed to do= some bending and stretching yesterday but not much. So today I will be doing a lot of that stuff. I am on stronger pain meds and as a consequence, am in much less pain. Funny how that works. When I was in the hospital, I kept telling the doctors (there were pain docs; orthopedists; pharmacists etc. checking in all the time) that I just didn't want to go home and be in pain again. This hospital was incredible. MUCH better than St. Mary's. I'll write more later, but they were really there; the care was fantastic. And they listened. The nurses were top-notch; every single one of them was nice. And every single one of them knew their stuff. The longest I had to wait for anyone was 15 minutes -- and that's only because another patient had "coded." I'll write more about my experience later (look for a post called popsicles and death). But the bottom line now is that I can bend MUCH more. I finally feel like I'm where I should be -- on the mend, getting better and working with a great team. Just wanted to update this for those of you reading. . . Now, I'm off to take a shower. Scary, but it's my first one in six days.

Back at home

So, I got released this morning. Cesa came to pick me up in the fancy ass BMW (My reputation will somehow survive).. But then we got home and I was exhausted. I mean EXHAUSTED. And chilled. Went straight to bed. Phone rang and rang and rang. It was like being in a bad dream. Then finally I got "up) at about 4:30 p.m. I was delirious, talking to myself (like I always do but more).. . it struck me then that this is not normal. Took my temp. It's about 102. OK. So why am I sick? The knee is burning hot. Like embers pulled from a fire. Not hyperbole. I mean hot. burning hot. . So I call Carly, the physician assistant. Blessedly, she answers the phone. I had a flue shot but this feels like the flue. But then she asks about bladder infection. Just yesterday I started feeling funky -- my catheter did. I said, hey, you guys need to take this out or I'm going to bet a bladder infection. They didn't take it out for awhile. And I'd bet that's what I have. So Cesa is picking up the anti-biotics. I have cramping, pain, the usual. I know my body pretty well. I hope that's all it is. I made myself take some Tylenol and eat a little bit and now i feel a teensy bit better. I'll know in a few hours if it was a bladder infection. . But pretty sure it was. sorry I'm repeating myself. Did I say I'm running a fever? Otherwise, I'm watching the numbers and if they climb too high, I'll go to the emergency room. AT UC. . Other than that, everything is good. the manipulation was a success and i feel like I'm finally going to have the knee I've dreamed about. prayers still in major order here if you feel like sharing.

Love,
Janet

ps soon i will see all the junk i ordered online. ok. that's scary.

'Things are going well, but...'

Rose beat me to the punch. I just got a voice-mail message from Janet, asking me to post to her blog.

"Things are going well, but no one knows it -- unless they call me,'' she says.

So, call!

Resting happily with chocolate

Hi, this is Rose, Janet's friend. We're on the phone right now. I'm about to bring Janet falafel, a mocha, and chocolate (we can't live without chocolate).

Here's a message from Janet:

Hi everyone,

The procedure went well. I'm still in the hospital bending and straightening. Hopefully, I'll be out by tomorrow or Saturday at the latest. This hospital has provided excellent care and I'm much happier this time around.

I'm only checking email sporadically, so feel free to call. My home # has been forwarded and it's listed in the old fashioned phone book.

Love, Janet

Ready for hospital, stage two

So, in 24 hours, I'll be in a room at UCSF, probably being told to bend, bend bend. . . Tomorrow (Monday) morning I get manipulated. As if. I go to the hospital at 8 a.m. (my sister will be taking care of me). By 11:15 a.m. if all goes according to schedule (but don't count on it) I will be in an operating room, heavily sedated. For my total knee I had a spinal block -- epidural -- plus big time drugs that made me sleep and forget -- but I was NOT under general anesthesia. I plan to avoid general again. I could choose to be totally awake; I did that for several arthroscopies. But I'm feeling like I want to be out this time. I don't think I can stand more trauma right now. So hopefully I'll get a spinal plus drugs. Anyhow, at 11:15 a.m. or so I'll be laying on the table, probably sleeping. The doctor will take my leg and bend it. And he will continue to bend it beyond my ability today. He will lean his weight on it. Do whatever it takes... And the "adhesions" -- new scar tissue -- will break. As in POP. Crack. etc. That's the plan. If I were awake and aware, I would be writhing in pain. I would give up any information you wanted. I would make any promises. It would be more than torture. That's why I won't be awake or feeling anything. . . After the procedure, I go to my room for in-patient therapy. I'll have a spinal block the whole time so I won't feel pain. And for three days, I will be working intensely. Bending. Bending. Bending.

Anyhow, I am feeling a lot better these days. I'm bending more; I have a great physical therapist at UC who I will be seeing after the manipulation. And I'm actually hopeful that this procedure will get things moving. Get me moving. And then I could move on with other things. Like my life.

Anyhow, if you're inclined, I'd appreciate any prayers, good thoughts, gentle vibes.. whatever.

Better go pack for surgery.

I'll try to get updates posted online.

Cheers,

Janet

It's all about knee

Happy Friday to all you working stiffs. I changed the title of the blog today. I decided not to change the address, but I registered a new name just in case. Why the change? Well, I was on the phone with my buddy Oren, and was joking that this blog is all about ME. And he said, ha ha, it's all about KNEE. . And well, I thought it was perfect.

So, a new report. I went to my physical therapist, June at UC (who is the best in spite of the fact that she makes me cry -- OK, maybe because of it). So, all this bending and kvetching I've been doing is apparently paying off. I'm getting to 100 degrees easily. And when I push myself -- really push myself, I can get to 116 or so. That's good. At first June was really opposed to doing the manipulation. She sees the results. But when I told her that there would be no blood letting (just the doc bending the hell out of my knee until the scar tissue breaks) she seemed more positive. Don't get me wrong. It's going to hurt. And it's going to produce even MORE trauma. On the other hand, it might make me feel better because I won't have anything in my way. . . So, it's on. Monday. UC . . . I'll keep ya'll posted. And if you want to visit, I'd love visitors or at least calls. . . I'll be bringing my cellphone to the hospital. I might even forward my home phone. If you want my number, I'll give ya'll a hint: I'm listed. That's right. Very old fashioned. So if you know my last name, you'll be able to call. I'll probably forward my home phone to my cell. If not, I'll leave info on the phone. And if I don't call back right away, please be understanding. I'll be pretty busy with all the bending. Ciao --Janet

PS The picture has no relation to this post, especially since eels have no knees. But I wanted to put it up because I thought it was cool. This was a moray (I believe) eel that I saw on a dive last year on the Kona coast of Hawaii.

out of cookies.. .

Well, I still have the last one. I'm saving it for an emergency. But I'm feeling better. I forced myself to get out of bed, had a good cry (not in that order). . Kali helped. So did my friends who called. I know I've been crabby and moody (same thing, right?) . I know it's just being tired and in pain. Man, that sure does a number on you. I thought I knew about pain before. And still, all this pain just makes me feel sorry for everyone else. I mean, deep down, I know I will be OUT of pain at some point. Even when I don't believe it, I know it. And that makes a HUGE difference. Anyhow, I'll get through this. But those of you who are dealing with me, thanks for being gentle and understanding.

In the cookies

That, by the way, is going to be my new expression for I'm not feeling so hot today. As in, man, I'm in the cookies today. Its origin: me getting in the cookies. Chocolate toffee to be precise. Actually, if I'm going to have an in the cookies kind of day, it might as well be with these because they're probably worth the calories. OK, so we all have in the cookies kind of days. This is another way of saying, yes, I'm feeling sorry for myself. Well, this affirms what I've strongly suspected: Jesus may have been a Jew, but I must be very far from his line of succession, as I caught no martyrdom genes at all. Sigh. No need to go into details. I guess this is the privilege of having a blog. This is probably one of those posts that I'll regret and blame on drugs or something (even though I'm not really on anything stronger than toffee and chocolate.) But I will say that somehow blogging it makes it a teensy bit better. And I know this mood will pass.
PS. This is a picture of the last cookie -- evidence that I did NOT finish, despite all accusations, the entire bag. Although I suppose I could have taken that earlier. You'll never know for sure.

Manipulation Monday

So, it's going to happen. UCSF. Manipulation. What's that, you ask? Patient (that's me) is put under (probably with a spinal block plus drugs that make you forget and permanently happy). Surgeon takes leg and bends it. He leans his weight onto it. CRACK. Yeah. That's the scar tissue breaking. Then the manipulation is followed by two more days of intensive physical therapy. Will he cut? No. No plans for any cutting. Will this hurt? Yeah. Like hell. As if we knew what hell felt like. It'll hurt. What are the risks? Very, very minsicule risk of something breaking but since the rest of me is in good shape, almost no risk that way. The main risk is that it won't work, or that it will work at first and the scar tissue grows back. So jeez, why do it? I'm at a regular 90 degrees flexion -- maybe 100 to 110 when pushing it. But I can actually FEEL where my knee stops because of scarring. Well, I can't say for sure that it's because of scarring. But I can tell you that something is in the way. Also, there is a high likelihood that it will both hasten my recovery AND give me more flexion overall. So when I'm done, maybe i'll have something like 140. Never thought I'd be fighting for a few degrees. But this is my life now.

Oh and one of the benefits of surgery -- they give you a spinal block for a few days. So I may have something like three pain free days. YAY! I know. Going to the hospital is extreme. I'm not doing it just for the block. But being pain free will be GREAT.

In other news, I just got back from my new bodyworker/accupuncture guy. I will say I really notice the difference. He's doing some massage and I can tell after he's done with me that I can bend more. Who knows? Maybe by Monday I won't need the manipulation at all.

My sister (bless her heart) is coming in to take care of me and to be my bitch. (or maybe it'll be that I'll be hers. . . well, you know what I mean) She'll be the one yelling at the nurses and doctors for meds and all sorts of things. My folks might be back from their trip in time to also be there. I now know to NEVER enter the hospital alone, without an advocate. My co-worker told me all about that and he's absolutely right. Squeeky wheels work. Bitching? Yeah, that's how it's done. Trust me. This is the sister who just had breast reconstruction post mastectomy. So it's a little weird. Breast cancer is a lot more serious than knee stuff. But she's ok and as long as she doesn't lift, she should be ok. It'll be nice to see her.

So if you've been wondering when to call, I'd say now.

Visitors? Yes, I'd love visitors now and in the hospital. I wont' be quite as out of it as I was before -- and I'll be working on bending and stuff. But yes, call first and let me know if you're up for a visit.

--Janet

PS Yes, having a tantrum and crying my eyes out yesterday helped. I never know when the tears are going to come. Sometimes I feel like it's just physical exhaustion. So Beth and others who have been on my recieving end, thanks for being there and not hanging up. It's a mix of feeling sorry for myself and just like I said, a chemical sort of thing.

Photo credit: here

I feel so manipulated...

Well, not yet. But I will soon.

Surgery/manipulation is scheduled for Monday. I have a pre-op appointment Friday -- and physical therapy the day before. It could go either way on Friday. But probably it will happen. I'd like to tell you how diligent I've been about bending every half hour. I was. I was doing it every half hour. Cranking till it hit a nine -- sometimes 10 (often 10) on the pain scale. And then today, I just broke. I don't mean physically. But I just couldn't do it. For a few hours. OK. Maybe more than a few. I'm doing it now. Got my watch out. The one that sounds it's chirpy reminder every 30 minutes. And down I go. On my back knee up. Weight strapped on. Or on my stomach, belt tied to my ankle so I can pull. Or on my knees in fetal position. And I bend. Bend. Feel the stretch. Feel the pain until I can't stand it. Sweat sprouting on my forehead. Sometimes tears. And then the chirp comes again (I've set it up so it goes off after a minute or so) and the same noise that sounded obnoxious and hateful a minute ago, now sounds sweet. A relief. I feel like a waitress getting off a 12 hour shift. Relief. My knee immediately swells. I can feel it getting larger. Strap on the icepack fast. Flip over. Sit. It's over. It's done. Relief. Relax into it. Just relaxing. Just getting into it and then it happens again. Boom. The chirp. I want to kill that f-n chirp. I want it to go away. And flip. I'm doing it again. Yeah, it gets tiring. And yeah, I'm complaining. But it's MY blog and I'm allowed. Right?

Enough. But no. It's never enough. Maybe it's not enough. Am I up to 100?? I don't know. It's stuck. It just feels stuck. . So I skipped some of it today. Does that mean it's my FAULT it's not bending? I don't know. I really don't. I can tell you (all of you) that I really am doing my best. I really am pushing myself as hard as I can. Really, you say? You could do more. OK. Maybe I could. Maybe someone could be holding a gun to my head, maybe if it were life and death. Maybe if I had a little more willpower. If I had a little more of whatever it takes that I should have that I obviously don't have. But I am so tired. Not just the kind of tired you get at the end of a long day or a long week. But tired. Bone tired. Tired from not sleeping. Tired from the pain. Call me a wimp. But do it behind my back because I don't think I could take it. One person in my life said I was being overly affected by the medication. Affected in ways I didn't see. And that may be true. But what really is hitting me -- and hitting me hard -- is the pain and the fatigue. Sometimes the drugs work. And then I relax and I bend. But sometimes they don't. Still, I don't really want more. I don't even want more herbs. I sometimes don't even want to eat. Whoa! Not eat? Janet? It's not that I've lost my appetite. I'm just not as interested in food. I mean, I love food. But sometimes it feels like a chore (unless it's chocolate; at least I have that.) Anyhow, I'll go back to bending. Maybe American Idol will perk me up. That's better than drugs. I don't know why but it makes me happy in a temporary superficial kind of way. Like an umbrella drink on the beach. OK. so, did you catch the news in all that? I'm supposed to have my manipulation Monday.

My new battle: to try to get in to see the doctor BEFORE the manipulation. Yeah, they have me with a pre-op appointment with the hospital (this time UC) but NOT the doctor. That seems rather important. I mean, he said he only wants to do it if I'm still not bending. I do NOT want to go into another operating room as long as I live. Believe me. But if it's going to get me through this in the long run, then yes, I'll go. I'll even try to cop a good attitude. I just hate that I have to fight for every little thing.

So sorry this isn't a cheery little post. Maybe soon. Hopefully.

Image borrowed from this site on Hawaiian pinups. Politically incorrect? Sorry. But it fit.

Every half hour....

So, just a small update. Yes, I'm bending just about every half hour that I'm awake, if you don't count the hours when I should be sleeping but am not. I figure I get a break. It's actually kind of amazing. I'll start at 90 degrees and then push it to over 100. So who knows? maybe it's enough to stave off surgery. BTW, last I heard, that was tentatively set for the 19th. In the meantime, my knee is generating enough heat to run a small power plant. So I'm icing. Lani (massage therapist) gave me this incredible knee massage the other night. We only had a few minutes before Lani, Doris and I went downtown to meet my folks. They were in for the night before jetting off to China in the morning (Saturday) I swear, I'll never be able to keep up with my parents. The massage really helped and she showed me how to do this thing with resistance. I've been practicing and it makes a difference. The dinner was decadent and it was great seeing my parents (who by now are among my only readers). Dad said he was really happy that I was bending more. And it's the first time I've seen a little relaxing of that worried look that crosses his face whenever he looks at my knee (a quick review -- dad's an orthopedist as well as being dad supreme -- did I mention he was reading this? Seriously, I would say this anyhow. Really!) So that made me feel hopeful. And both of my parents said my walking was noticeably better. It's hard to gauge my own improvement so I rely on the judgements of others. I still have big enough bags under my eyes to pack for a month in New York but otherwise, the body seems to be gettig there. I'm doing a lot of weight lifting and working out.

So, I don't feel like it's my place to write about this, but I got some very difficult news about a dear friend who has breast cancer. She just had a double mastectomy and is going to go through radiation and chemo. So those of you know know R, I'm sure you're already sending out prayers or whatever it is that you do. Those of you who don't, you know, if you don't mind, please send out some for her. I haven't known her long, but she's really one of my favorite people. I hope I can drive soon so I can go to her house and bug her. I mean help her. Thankfully, she has an amazing partner. But they'll both need tons of support.

So, that's all for now. I'm going to play with my photos in the next few days and post a few.

Right now, it's either 5:30 a.m, according to my windows xp computer which did, actually, pick up the daylight savings change (and why was THAT front page news? But no news commentary now). I was just playing Internet backgammon. The kitties are asleep at my feet. They're in an embrace. Usually they're tearing each other's fur out. And yes, I know I've become one of THOSE people who treat their cats like kids. But what's the harm in that? OK. I can't resist. I'll upload the photo and publish it. It's been awhile since I've used my own photos.

Bend it Like Beckham

Assuming, of course, that he could bend the hell out of his knee. And yes,I know that's not what they really meant, but it worked for a title. So, just got back from physical therapy.This was my first out patient visit. I almost hesitate to say how it went, as I don't want to get myself or anyone else (you know who you are) riled up. But what the hell. I'm riled. I just have to quickly move on. As in, OK, I'm PISSED and I made a mistake, but I'm moving on.

So, I saw June at UCSF PT. I don't think she'd mind me writing about her. I met June several surgeries ago. I've been through a lot of PTs. I really liked my old one, but June really *is* the best. That also, unfortunately means she hurts the most.

First, she was SHOCKED that I hadn't been in out-patient PT. A young person like you should have been coming in, she said. Man, I would have liked to. I tried. I thought it was my best, but apparently it wasn't. I thought I was pushy, but now I'm finding I wasn't pushy enough. You have to be VERY VERY pushy to get what you need in this system. And doctors wonder why patients are so nasty and angry? Quiet, polite people get screwed. Sorry, but that's just the truth. The meek may inherit the earth, but I don't care about my inheritance. I want it now. I want my knee to be better. And apparently, I should have been screaming my head off, demanding more PT. As it is, I don't think I would have gotten my last PT, Kitty, to come, unless I demanded it. My first PT basically didn't have me do anything. OK, so part of it is my fault for complaining so much about the pain. I am NOT exaggerating the pain. It f'n HURTS. Like nothing else. BUT I'm still willing to inflict more pain if it means a healthy recovery. AS it is, I should be bending a LOT more.

June said that manipulations don't always work. SURPRISE! They are NOT a panacea. I believe June. She's the one who sees the results. She's the one who takes care of people after they've been cut. So, she was tough today. Made me bend it like hell. When i walked in, I got it to about 87 degrees. That's crap. That's nothing. But after about a half hour of therapy, I got it up to 116. So she said later in the appointment, I didn't think you could do it when you walked in, but now I know you can. Doing what? Bending the hell out of my knee. Bending it so I break or loosen the scar tissues on my own. Bending it like Beckham or whomever the hell else has a lousy knee and a replacement. You won't hurt it, she said. You DON'T have arthritis. I have pain but there is NOTHING there to give me arthritis. It is a big hunk of metal in my knee. The old knee is in the trash. I am writing this to reinforce it because I think there are places in my body that do not get it. It's like I have to tell my body, hey, body, you can do it. You do not have arthritis. You have a shiny new joint and damn it, you're going to work it until it works right.

So, yeah, I should have been working it a lot harder right after surgery. So I'm angry. Did I say that already? Yeah. But you get it, right? I should have had people here bending it for me. Something to say, yeah, girl. . . BEND. But I didn't. My friends were right. If I'd had it done at UC and been pumped into THEIR system and not st. Mary's, I think it would have gone a lot differently. As it was, I think I got lost in the shuffle. St. Mary's isn't bad. But when my first guy didn't come, I just sort of got lost. A dangling modifier of a patient that just got hacked off. Until I said, hey, it's me. And no,I'm not really on drugs (just a little). And yes, I realize I'm not making sense.But did I say I was mad? Yeah, I'm getting it out here because after this post, I'm going to let go of the past and move on. Because that's the only way I'm going to get better. It's the only way I'm going to get better. No dwelling. No weeping. Later, I'll reflect on how I might have done things differently. Maybe I would have chosen a doctor who was more available to his patients. When I get in to see him,he's great. He takes his time, explains everything. Gives me top-notch treatment. But try getting in to see him. It's like trying to visit a patient in a Siberian prison camp. And yeah, I'm mad at myself too. I should have pushed myself harder. I thought I was pushing myself. But it wasn't enough.

OK, so my new assignment (see, I'm already moving on) is to bend the hell out of it EVERY half hour for a minute. Before, I was doing these complete mini workouts three times a day. And I am getting stronger. But she's not worried about strong; she's worried about bending. And so am I. I'm strong. I will get stronger. That's the easy part. Bending is the hard part. Do you know how much it hurts to bend my knee? She said push it to a nine (on a 1 to ten pain scale, where 10 is the worst.. . someone tearing off your ear or something really horrible that they do on 24. But I tell myself pain is nothing. Just a state of mind. Jack Bauer, you have nothing on me. Torture me all you want. I'll never give away the nuclear codes. (This is my pep talk to myself. Because bending HURTS). . But it's just a fleeting thing, just a momentary feeling. I can do it. And I need to do it. I need to bend and stretch and I need to BREAK these adhesion's. Because this knee surgery MUST WORK. I will not allow myself to even imagine it not working. Just as I am promising myself to not stay angry long. To let go of the past. I will revisit it, but later. So folks, if you're mad at my doc and the system, good. But we'll rant later (unless you have ways to change it.) Right now I need to go bend the hell out of my knee for a minute. It's 12:30. Every half hour. Every half hour.

PHOTO taken from here

And the days go by

So, my apologies for not posting lately. But frankly, there just hasn't been any news. I'm waiting to hear from my doctor's office about the date for the manipulation -- should I need it.Which I think I should. If I don't do it, I think I'm forgoing extra bend in my knee. Who knew it would be this complicated? Not me. That's for sure. Anyhow, I put in my strong request to be at UCSF and NOT St. Mary's. St. Mary's was fine when I first went in. But after I was there a few days they put me on what I now think of as the Floor of the Forgotten. Basically, in the first few days you're on the acute care floor. Care is the important word here. Because after that you're considered to be long term or something so they dump you on this other floor where you feel lucky to have meals delivered. It's like a long term care floor. I guess the feeling is that if you're acute, you're gonna get better. But if you're long term, who knows? Whatever the reasoning, that's where I had the trouble -- with everything from getting my meds on time to getting them to bring ice (which they generally didn't or did and made it seem like a big favor b/c the ice machine is broke on that floor. Plus there's just a feeling of we don't really care. For the day that I had the transfusion, it was great in that I got to go back up to the 8th floor where you're considered to be a 'real' patient and treated as such. I don't know how it is at UCSF. Maybe the same. But man, I just don't want more of that. Plus, that's where I had the nightmare of the transfusion (I never did post that blog; I might). It seems like so long ago, but it wasn't. Mostly, what I resented was that when I said, hey, I have difficult veins, they didn't believe me. Until three people failed at drawing a line. Four people, eight tries. Yeah, a pin cushion has it better -- they don't try to get anything out of you when you're a pin cushion. OK so if you're wondering why I don['t want to go back into the hospital this is why. See? Usually, you have enough time for these types of memories to fade. But there's been no fading yet. Maybe some of my memories are bleary. Most. I don't remember much of the first few days, except, shaking in pain and feeling stoned out of my mind and trying to explain that no, more morphine wasn't going to make me feel any better, obviously. Just more high. . . But OK, there were some nice people at St. Mary's too. Like the guy who brought me extra dry shampoos so I could "wash" my hair every day. Jesus? I forget his name; it's in my notes. I think I vowed I'd send him a thank you note but I didn't. I think I was filled with so much gratitude every time he brought ice that I wanted to kiss him. I probably did. Not in THAT way. But that just speaks poorly for the institution, no? That I would be that grateful for supplies that were supposed to be common and ordinary.

OK. So back to present. Julie from the office brought burritos tonight. YUM. Thanks Julie. Yesterday Diane took me to Rainbow grocery, which is the hippy natural foods coop. Got a bunch of raw nuts and other healthy snacks, so I don't keep grabbing chocolate. In fact, I gave the remainder of my very, very, delicious chocolate to my acupuncturist. She will put it to good use, no doubt. I just couldn't have it in here without wanting to dive in. I have been so good about weight loss. But now I'm sleeping a little better and regaining my appetite, so I gotta watch it. Janet, watch it. . . So the day before, Doris took me out for a walk. That was Sunday. I think we walked about a mile. Went to the yuppie little market bi-rite and then stopped for a beer on the way home at the Lexington club. I forget sometimes what a hip happening hood I live in. . .I've really not been drinking but I confess,I had a cider. It tasted great.

The day before on Saturday, Donna and Beth kidnapped me and took me down to 24th Street, which was hustling and bustling. It was a beautiful sunny day and the street was filled with lesbians and their babies. That's Noe Valley for you. Definitely a gaybe boom. Seriously, everyone seemed to have a dog or a baby. Or both. Donna ran into an old friend. I was kind of sad I didn't run into anyone I knew, but I got over it. We had a great lunch (am forgetting the name of the place because my memory has been sucking lately) and window shopped. A highlight for me: stopping in MY favorite store: Radio Shack. No kidding. I got a bunch of DVDs so I can burn movies for friends (and myself) off my TIVO, a new headset and batteries. Woo Hoo. . . Walking back, we ran into Doris. How funny. . She had just called to see if someone had kidnapped me and brought me out to be in the sun with the other humans (and canines). I love San Francisco on days like these when the sun is shining and the stores seem enticing and even the dogs seem to be smiling. I know it's all probably terribly politically incorrect and all, but it just feels good. Eveyone's out. Everyone's happy. Everyone's well fed and well-paid on days like these.

Today I didn't do much. I didn't sleep well so I woke up late. I am way behind on calls to friends and emails as well. So if I owe you a call or email, sorry about that.

OK, that's all for now. Guess I said a lot for having nothing to say. As usual. Over and out for now -- Janet


PS for those not familiar, the photo is an ode to the title of this post

Good news and less good news

Hi folks: Just a quickly update. Went to the doctor today. I do NOT have an infection. My knee is actually healing fairly well. But it was a bit swollen. So he drained it. That was somewhat unpleasant. OK,I screamed. But just a little. Man, that was a big needle (he did use anesthetic, but still).

We made a date to go to the hospital in two weeks to get a manipulation -- unless I'm able to bend to more than 100 degrees. A manipulation basically involves bending the hell out of your knee under anesthetic to "release" the scar tissue. There's no cutting involved, but it's traumatic and requires hospitalization. I can actually feel a place where it's stuck. Like I'm hitting a wall. That would be an "admesion."
It's important to do the manipulation fairly early -- before scar tissue can harden. I've been working hard in physical therapy (yesterday a photographer came to my house to shoot photos for my story and the faces I made said it all.) AND I've been using the CPM machine. But maybe I really am not working hard enough. I think I have been but still. Or maybe my knee just makes lots of scar tissue because it has been doing it for so long that it is good at it. I work it until I cry. I push. And push. But it's not enough. . . And maybe as one friend said, I'm not doing enough. I'm kidding myself. I've lost perspective. Maybe now that it's drained I'll be able to bend more and maybe even pop out that adhesion. I'll call my pain doc in the morning about getting more pain meds so I can push the hell out of it. OK, NOW I'm feeling like an addict :-) But today, when I was totally off the drugs (the hour between doses, the pain was intolerable). . anyhow, I don't feel like writing more about that. enough.

My surgeon (who I really like) also prescribed me neurotin (as suggested by my brother), which is meant for nerve pain. The doctor thinks the surgery "woke up" my nerve that was damaged in my original surgery. I have been thinking the same thing -- that I'm feeling the old nerve pain. This is not necessarily a good waking up. But it might explain the extra pain that I'm having. My nerve is functional, but damaged. And nerve pain hurts. Yeah. Again with the pain. Oy. Like a broken record. I know.

OK, so here's where I want to stress that Dr. Ries said that all in all, my looks good (except for the not bending part) and my prognosis for full recovery is excellent. Did I mention full x-rays today? Trippy to see this metal thing in my knee. . I made him say it a few times. He obliged. He believes it and really, so do I. And yeah, this is part of that positive thinking stuff. Which I believe in. But it's not magic. It's just focusing on the good. Focusing on the possibilities. Anyhow, Dr. Ries even said I could forgo the manipulation, but that in the end it would give me more range of motion. Which will make a big difference in the usage of my knee. . I told him I'm totally invested in this. I mean, whatever it takes to make it right.

Hopefully, like I said, I might be able to bend more with the drain. Right now it hurts, but I added weights to my regimen yesterday and that might help. . . . .

You know, he did warn me that it's a several month process when we started. But I must admit that I'm feeling discouraged. It was very hard getting this news. I just feel like I want to shout out to everyone that I'm all better. I WANT so bad for this to be OVER. . I'm doing everything I can to stay away from the land of regret. We can't go there. And by we, I mean generally we, not the royal we or the schizophrenic we. . . I did this and it's going to work. See? It's just taking a little more time than I thought. And yes, I'm even missing work. But I just can't focus right now on anything but this. Bending. Straightening. Keeping my head up.I know there's a lot of things worse in this world. In fact, my heart today is heavy because a good friend is having a double mastectomy. She pulled through -- from what I can tell. . . I'm feeling a little selfish for being so focused on myself. But I guess that's the only way I'll get better. Maybe I will take on a project. Something to keep my mind off this.. .

I just want to add a BIG thank you to all of you who have stuck around and who visit. It makes so much of a difference. I can't tell you how much. . . I haven't been the best friend or the best patient. And even if I'm not saying thank you, I feel so much gratitude to everyone, especially my favorite readers, mom and dad. Mom and Dad, you've been amazing. YOu've been more generous than I ever could have imagined. I wish there were a way to thank you . But yes, you deserve your own post :-)

I also want to give a BIG Thank you to Diane and Charlie for getting me through this day. Diane now on her way to pick up drugs. Charlie and I are playing Operation. And she's going to cook. So much for feeling sorry for myself.

So I'll keep you posted on when I might go to the hospital, etc. In the meantime pray for a POP. . that means the adhesion is broken. That's what I'm going for. Sionara for now --J

Surgeon talk

So, before I forget,I wanted to post this. Wow, as a total aside, it's actually hailing outside. As in small pieces of ice falling from the sky. I know all you East Coasters think nothing of it but it's still a little dramatic).. Anyhow, Dr. Ries just called me. It's the first time we've spoken since being in the hospital. I had left a few messages with his assistants. The bottom line, he told me, is that the level of pain I'm experiencing seems to be normal -- expected, especially given how much scar tissue I have in this knee (due to so much previous trauma). That makes me feel a hell of a lot better. I told him I could deal with the pain as long as I knew it was not indicative of something going bad. He said he'll try to get me in before next week, but I basically told him that hearing him say he thinks it sounds normal makes me feel better. I told him what I'm doing as far as how far I could bend and what meds I was on. And he said that it actually sounded I was doing great. As in GREAT. So yes, that felt good to hear. I should expect pain for several months, he said. Funny -- that might have bothered me a few weeks ago. But now it doesn't. I can live through pain. I've been doing it. Just as long as it means I'm healing. I just had a really great workout (on my own). Did all my physical therapy stuff. Also did a bunch of crunches, some weights and sitting down boxing (which is just me punching this silly little spring bag a few times.)Anyhow, this is another lesson; listen to the professionals. I feel a lot calmer. Worry can be wearing. And for those who don't understand the medication thing -- he stressed to me how important it is to keep my pain under control with meds so that I can continue to heal and exercise. So that's the good news. I think I'm going back to listening to Mozart and the clacking of hail against my window. OK. I'm not all that cultured. Right now I'm playing Mozart but it's on a big mix so next I could be attempting to dance to Fergie or even -- shock -- Justin Timberlake. Hey, how can you NOT like SexyBack? And then I'll probably have to chase Henry -- limping -- across the house after he attacks Kali. Yes, I'm sure it's comedic to see me limping after him with a water bottle in one hand, yelling Henry NO! (which I'm pretty sure I think he thinks is his name) trying to get close enough to splash him in punishment. . . Then I'll do another round of exercises (at which time I allow myself to watch my Tivo'd shows) before Michelle comes over. And yes, there are those bills. Those bills. Those taxes. Just waiting. . waiting. . . waiting. . Now ya'll are envious of my days, no? Ciao -- Janet

New meds

Just a quickie (really) update about the meds. I saw a pain specialist yesterday. This young Russian doctor. I really liked him. He seemed very smart and competent (and even had a sense of humor). So, he said that he was a bit concerned that there might be something in the joint that is causing the pain; but that would be up to my orthopedist. (I have an appointment next Wednesday and am trying to get in earlier).

But he didn't seem particularly alarmed by my pain or the drugs I was taking. He switched me to higher doses of Oxycontin. Aside from being a hot street drug, Oxy is long-lasting. Other drugs give you a quick jolt of "feel good" then go away, while Oxy allegedly lasts hours. He also said that when it's turned into a street drug, they take out the stuff that makes it long lasting, so you get a huge jolt all at once. He also gave me some dilaudid to get me through any really rough times.

So, I came home on my new meds and had a kick-ass physical therapy session. This continues to be my bright spot. I feel really good about the progress I'm making, and I really like my PT (although we have only one session left before I do in-house.) I never could have tolerated what we were doing (imagine someone bending your leg full force.. OUCH. . OK, it wasn't full force, but it felt like that. And my nice physical therapist suddenly turned into a Monster . but then it was over and everything was OK. She even gave me some agility exercises. . .

OK, so back to the drugs. For those of you worried that I will become an addict like our good friend Rush Limbaugh, don't. . . My doc said an addict takes drugs when he or she does not need them. Yes of course, there is a always a risk that I won't get off of these and will turn to a life of crime. But for now, they are medically necessary. They allow me to heal and to live my life. So, that's all for now. Promised I'd keep it short. OK. So it's not so short. But who are you? My editor? Jeez.

Positive thinking or denial... .

Earlier tonight I had a discussion with a friend who told me she was very concerned that I was still taking drugs at this point. "That's not normal," she said. I haven't taken a survey. But I suppose it's probably not normal to still be needing pain medication five weeks after the surgery. That is to say, it's probably not average. But what is normal when you have the knee replacement?

Yes, I still have pain. I don't like to dwell on it. But it is fairly substantial. Which is why I'm taking drugs.

But yes -- I worry too (unfortunately I'm not taking enough drugs to send me off into some never never land where I have no idea what's happening): What does this pain mean? Is something wrong? I mean is something structurally wrong with my prosthesis? Is there an undiscovered infection? Has it slipped? I don't even know all the things that can go wrong. Because I haven't dwelled on them.

I'm not so worried about becoming a drug addict; I'm pretty well monitored by doctors and the pills are providing me much-needed relief. I know how much pain affects me. And medication and enables me to function. It does have a purpose, despite what my friend thought. It isn't just about making me feel good. It's about providing relief so I can continue with my therapy and continue feeling. Many studies have shown that pain can impede healing.

So, I think about this a lot: is there something wrong with my knee? I guess that's the question everybody has. Why does it hurt so much? Is this about tolerance? I don't think so. And my mom assured me that I have always had normal pain tolerance -- at least as a kid. Trust me, she'd tell me if I didn't. Maybe it seems like I'm in denial because I haven't really talked so much about the possibility that something is genuinely wrong. And here's the deal: I realize that it could mean something. And I don't think I'm in denial, but I'm trying to deal with this pain as calmly and dispassionately as I can. What is the root cause? Why does this pain persist? Is this normal? Is this within the realm of normal? Recently I've talked to several health-care professions about muscle memory. That's what one therapist calls it. The pain doctor in the hospital didn't call it a name for me but she basically said that I might be feeling pain from the past. It's a weird concept. I mean, I understand that I can have psychological issues with memories. But that's not what this is.This is real pain. As in, OUCH, that hurts. The thinking goes that I've had so much trauma and pain that it's like it's embedded in my cells. Does this mean it's all in my head? Honestly? I'm not sure. It's possible. When I was nine and had my first surgery it was terribly painful and terribly traumatic. The five surgeries since then (not counting this) have also been traumatic --although none rivaled the first or this,what I hope will be the last.

I've had more than one doctor say to me something to the effect of: Janet: your knee doesn't know the difference between having surgery and getting hit by a car. All it knows is trauma. In a way I'm hoping this is it. Another friend and I discussed it and she was talking about phantom pain: the fact that amputees often still feel their limbs as if they are still there. And it's real pain. Maybe I'm feeling phantom pain from previous surgeries and years and years of arthritis. But how do I know? And if I do know, how can I stop it? When I was in the hospital I asked that first pain specialist if I should undergo hypnosis. I was kidding. Sort of. I actually think hypnosis can be great. She said no -- you should just take more pain pills that work. But now I wonder.

So all this is to tell you that I'm grappling with this and trying to figure it out. If I stop taking the drugs altogether (assuming I do it in a way that is safe) I will be in too much pain to do my exercises. I have a fairly high tolerance for pain but it can literally make me nauseous to try to bend my knee. And I have been making so much progress. So I want to get feedback from people. But I don't want to dwell on the negative. If something is truly wrong with the implant, it will become apparent and I will find out. At least that's what I'm trusting. I guess I've never really thought of myself as a terribly positive person; I worry about it (yes,I realize this is ironic). But I realize that I have been really focused on the positive with this. In a lot of ways that's what this blog is about. At least that's my intention. I mean, I'm putting out some fairly intimate personal feelings. And I honestly have no idea who is reading this. And I guess I'm doing it with the hope that it will do more good than harm. I'm sort of trusting in the universe. I, probably more than anyone else, understand how this works. I've been writing about the Internet for more than a decade and I get it; words persist. Words can come back to haunt you. But words can also heal. . .

Anyhow, I am really looking for feedback -- honest feedback, so please share. I'm about to go to sleep. Tomorrow morning I will be going to the new pain specialist and I will be sure to bring up all the issues with him. Until then. -- Janet

PS the picture above is from NASA and is of the Nile. Get it? de Nile? denial? ok,weak but.. .

Chocolate, boxing and bending . .

Happy Sunday

I don't have a lot to say today but that could change by the end of this post. But I woke up feeling pretty good today. I'm still not sleeping all that well but I'm going for several hours at a time so I feel like I'm getting some decent rest. I also really ramped up my exercising during the day. That feels good. Because I can sort of measure my accomplishments that way. Aside from all the stuff I'm doing for my knee, I'm also doing some very light weight lifting and even some boxing (consisting of punching a little bag, so technically it's not really boxing but it makes me feel macha to say boxing.) I'm realizing that part of the soreness in my leg when I wake up is the muscle that I'm rebuilding. So that's good. How far am I bending, the crowds want to know. Well I can't give you a number in degrees. But I can tell you that I'm easily getting to 90°. And I know I bending a lot further than that. It's still swollen but it's coming along. I guess the most challenging thing in all this is that your instincts say hey -- rest. Take a break. Give yourself a chance to heal. But actually, if I did that, I probably wouldn't walk. I think I may have an adhesion but I'm not going to worry about it right now. As I said earlier, last week my physical therapist actually said my knee looked "beautiful" in only the way a physical therapist could've said it (a few days later when Rachel came to visit, she said it looked rather like Frankenstein. So beauty is in the eye of the beholder :-)) by the way, as an aside, my scars now make a Z or an N, depending on your viewpoint. So I'm going to have to think of something clever to do with that little piece of information. Now that was a big aside.

So exercising is going fairly well. I'm using the CPM machine some but not a lot. Mostly I use it when I'm just relaxing in bed. It I might move it into the living room. I'm just going to have to figure out the logistics. I'm doing a full routine three times a day. And when I include the non-me exercises, it usually takes about 40 to 50 minutes. So maybe I will come out of this in better shape. One of the fringe benefits of being on opiates is that my appetite has diminished and I am losing weight. Also, the fact that I'm not drinking and I'll probably helps. It's not like I was downing a time of alcohol, but even the glass of wine and it adds up. That was one of my goals after the surgery anyhow. Mostly, I'm just eating less. Funny though -- I'm still eating more than my share of chocolate. But as most of us know, chocolate is an essential vitamin. I haven't wanted to write about this because I didn't want to jinx it. But I suppose it's all part of the healing process. When I asked my doctor before I went in whether I should try to lose weight before the surgery, he said it wasn't necessary; but that after the surgery it would make a big difference. Now that I've invested in this whole thing -- the surgery, etc. I feel like I'm protecting my investment. Anyhow, I guess I'm putting this out there so encouragement welcomed. I would like to lose 20 more pounds or so. (If I were living in LA I would make that 30 to 40 pounds but sorry folks, I'm just going for healthy -- not fashionable. Of course, if I were living in the Midwest, I would probably be underweight :-)

What else? I guess I'm trying to maintain a good attitude. I had one day when I will gut feeling really negative -- downright pessimistic. And I'm really trying to not go there. It doesn't help. It actually hinders. But I guess things are slowly but surely getting better. That's what I choose to believe. And I think the evidence is pointing in that direction. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with a pain specialist. I know that some of you are concerned that I'm still taking opiates. Frankly, I'm a little concerned too. But I think it's okay; it's certainly helping me to exercise. But maybe this pain specialist can help me work out a plan. I'm sure he can. That's the whole point. So that's all for now. Happy Oscars. -- Janet PS I'm using my voice recognition so sorry about to speakos if there are any. PPS I still would love to get more feedback on this blog -- whether it's here or in a personal e-mail. So stay in touch.

PHOTO CREDIT: FROM HERE

Shopping, memories and more ramblings

Remember being four or five or six? I do. Or I think I do. Mommy has just told me -- get ready. We're going to the market. I don't know this at the time because my little brain can't even imagine it, but for her it is just a chore -- probably something she doesn't want to do. Marketing is no small task for a family of seven -- two adults and five kids. It always requires two shopping baskets. Two completely full shopping baskets. And Mommy doesn't shop the same way that Daddy does -- letting you con him into fruitloops and Cap'n Crunch at the same time. Plus dingdong's. (Yes Daddy, we tell him, Mommy always lets us get these. And every time he falls for it. But secretly I know that the real reason is that he likes dingdong's more than anyone else in the house. Who can resist them? Plus, Mommy doesn't allow candy so dingdong's are pretty much the closest thing you can get to a candy bar. Anyhow, I can't wait. I start jumping up and down just a little bit. Okay. Maybe a lot. I put my arms down by my side and put my small fists in my lap between my legs to control them. I have a very big smile. I can't help myself. I'm going to the market. I will get to sit in the little seat in the shopping basket and put my legs out so I can dangle them. Or maybe I will ride in the back of the shopping cart with my brother until the basket gets too full and we can't fit anymore. Then I will shop with Mommy, clinging to her sturdy legs, sometimes hiding behind them when market ladies try to talk to me.

At this point you're asking: has Janet taken too many drugs? Probably. But that was my attempt at explaining just how excited I was yesterday to go to the market. I did feel like I was four. Or maybe I felt like I was 80 and a shut in who was going out for the day. I suppose that's a more accurate analogy. But less romantic. I am becoming more and more empathetic. I think a lot about aunt Betty in the nursing home, day after day stuck in the same place. Watching the same TV shows. Listening to the same people yelling and crying for help. Hoping for a visit once or twice a week. Knowing she must be positive during that visit or else risk alienating her visitors. What a terrible life.

Anyhow, the market was great. Went to whole foods and it lived up to its reputation as whole paycheck. I think it might've been two whole paychecks. I bought a lot of nice food and I bought some new conditioner and some vitamins and creams... and I won't give you the total. But it was a lot. Diane drove me and she brought Charlie, her four-year-old, along. I went with my cane that can fold out into a little chair. I definitely used it. I kept telling Diane that this would be what it would be like to have two kids. Diane, get me this, I would ask her. Then Charlie would say mommy I want this. You know -- maybe we said it differently, but we were both clamoring for the same thing in the same attention. We spent two hours in the market. I'm still pretty slow. I mean, if I could get all the people on Betty's floor in the nursing home to race me, I would lose. No kidding. Then I came home and my house cleaners were here (I'm now trying to have them come once a week rather than asking visitors to clean my toilet -- not a very hospitable way to treat your guests.) Charlie and I were sitting in the living room watching the Magic School Bus -- and Diane was downstairs doing laundry when I heard my upstairs neighbor coming in and out of the house. Actually, it was a housesitter staying there. Then I heard a crash. It was a really loud noise that came from the garage. Long story short, a spring broke. Thank God for Bill across the street. He happened to be home and came running over with his stepson and tools. He came back this morning and it's already fixed. Bill is the busiest guy in the neighborhood. And probably the nicest. Anyhow, that was my day.

Last night Doris came over and showed me her great photos from her trip to New York. Cool dragons in the New York Chinese New Year's parade. . She even watched American Idol with me -- once she got over the shock that I'm completely hooked on it. I am. I don't know what it is about the show, but I love it. Now I know she's a true friend.

I figured that because I did so much walking that I could cut myself a little slack and only do my physical therapy twice yesterday rather than three times. But I also got on my CPM machine and really bent the hell out of my leg. I woke up in the middle of the night in parentheses a bad habit) and I could hardly walk. My knee was really stiff -- more than it has been. But I think that was just doing a lot. Still, I will admit that at five in the morning I started feeling badly -- maybe even a little pessimistic. To be honest, it is the first time I've felt real pessimism. But I'm not going to give into it. I called some friends and I'm going to try to get some visitors. And I'm blogging. Mostly I'm going to not give in to these thoughts. They are just passing emotions, right?

It's 10 a.m. and I'm in the machine. And I'm going to do my exercises. My knee is already feeling better -- looser. Now I'm signing off to go do my "real" exercises.

PS I borrowed the image from here.

Degree by degree

So yesterday it started happening; the feeling of boredom. I think that's a good sign. For the first time (maybe it happened before but I don't remember) since surgery I'm able to really think outside myself. I'm starting to feel like I'm missing out on the world, starting to feel antsy, starting to feel like I want to get out there more. Today, my friend Diane is coming to take me shopping -- to the market. And I'm thrilled. I mean, really excited. Now, that's a little sad, but it's a big deal -- getting out. . Yesterday was officially four weeks post-op. Honestly, I thought I'd be running around by now. Not yet. I am, however, walking around the house without crutches. It's slow and I have to remind myself to bend with every step. It's still swollen, still hurts and nights are tough. But I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Earlier this week, I got a new physical therapist and she gave me a bunch of really great (and extraordinarily painful ) exercises. Mostly they're all about bending. And straightening. Who knew my life would be about getting straight and getting bent? But that's the major theme. I do these intense exercises three times a day. And in between I do the passive motion machine, which bends and straightens for me. Are you starting to get bored of these descriptions? I am. . .
So, my friends and family have been saving my life. Even though I have hours alone, I also have had tons of visits -- this week alone, Donna and Beth and then Deborah and Ronda had come by for dinner. I've also had lots of calls. I love it all. Even if I don't respond right away. And get well cards and gifts. This is where I get sappy (and right now I'm not really on drugs). But there's really no way for me to adequately thank everyone who has been helping. I wrote up a post with all the specifics but then didn't publish it for fear I'd be leaving someone out. I've had home cooked meals; friends coming over and watching movies and bringing dinner, only to be rewarded with the task of cleaning the litterbox or taking out the trash. I feel so much gratitude. I mean it. Every card; every call; every email makes a difference. And look, this is JUST knee surgery. . . Ironically, I just was interrupted by a call from a friend who was just diagnosed with breast cancer. My sister is also recovering from breast cancer. OK. That's serious. That makes you face your own mortality. But regardless of what one has, it's cliche, but really, having support from friends and family means everything. I just feel lucky -- even blessed. Anyhow, I just wanted to give a quick update because I was feeling like this has been so negative; I want to stress that progress IS being made. Thanks for everything. --Janet

PS if you feel like coming over, just call or email.

Please send links...

Just a quickie here: I'm trying to build this out so it will actually be useful. So if you have any links to other blogs or websites that you think would be helpful or related, please send them along! Thanks --Janet

Life, death and Gilligan's Island

I'm getting to the point where I'm getting bored by TV and actually beginning to feel guilty for watching so much. I suppose this is progress. I have all these books on tape downloaded, and stack of novels and great works of non-fiction by the side of my bed. And all have stayed virtually (or in actuality) shut. And the thing is, I just love books. But the idea of absorbing anything deeper than Judge Judy (did you know that there are like ten of these judge shows by the way?) seems daunting. Now, however, I'm feeling like my brain will really begin to rot. Like there's a brown spot on it that began in childhood with Leave it to Beaver and Gilligan's Island and I Dream of Jeanie marathons that would happen every time I was home sick (which wasn't often, as my mom required actual proof of illness to stay home, such as actual real throw up -- impossible to fake -- or a temperature of 100 above -- as in 99 meant, go to school, Jack) or just came home after school and turned on the so-called electronic baby sitter. Don't be acting all holier than thou. I know that you folks raised in the 70s remember those times. Love American Style. Fantasy Island. Mary Tyler Moore. Bewitched. OMG, I'm having a boomer nostalgia moment. Man, did I ever love those shows. But now, it's like the previous post mentioned, crap like Maury Povich. I mean, I was turning on the TV for some white noise and there's this whole program on men who love to beat their wives and the wives who get beaten. It started with a series of shiny-faced guys (do bad guys always have shiny faces on TV?) yelling at the camera things like: My wife is mine. If she don't draw a hot bath for me when I get home, I kick her. I throw ice on her and lock her in the closet, etc. Then it shows the woman in studio being interviewed. But I love my man, crying, teary-eyed. Pan to audience. Exasperated gasps, sympathetic tears, hands to mouths. Shock. Fear. Disgust. The ol' emotional gut-punch to viewer between commercials from Geico and whatever other crap I've been watching. . Yep. I was getting sucked in. Then I had a moment. Man, am I really sitting here watching this? Is this what it has come to? But TV is strangely comforting. Having another voice in the room. I am not alone. I am distracted from my thoughts. Very Buddhist, no? Kidding. Click. It's off. Easy, right? Click.

So then the doorbell rings (now I'm talking about Friday) and it's Susan, my acupuncturist. Two minutes later, it's Doris, my wonderful neighbor. She's on her way to New York for the weekend and is dropping off her key so I have a copy in case she locks herself out or something. She makes me show her where I put the key. Smart woman. (Imagine the call at 3 a.m. one night. Doris: Hi. this is Doris. Locked myself out. Can you get out my keys? Me. Sure. Um, if I can find them.... three hours later... you get the point.) So I'm kind of frantic, limping to the door (because a few PTs said I should walk so I'm weight-baring (OK, here I need a copy editor. Is baring the right spelling here?) which will help my bones to heal into my muscle or something. (Because I actually do need reminders that my bones were sawed off and that's why it hurts so damn much).

Susan catches my energy. We go to my room (Doris leaves, embarking on what I hope will be an incredible journey -- Chinese New Year in New York. I expect to feel envious, but I don't. Doris has been so supportive and wonderful and she is such a great person, I'm just hoping she has a blast.)

So, anyhow, Susan and I spend a lot of time talking. Mostly it's me talking. Blathering. Kind of like I'm doing now. But she listens well. And that is a gift. She talks me down. Calms me. She reminds me: breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Find your breath. Ahhhhhh. Sigh. . Ahhh. I'm doing it . I breathe and then I begin to cry. The pain fills me. It is not emotional pain and that is somehow comforting.This is just raw pain. Gnawing, raw sandpaper on skin pain. Susan reminds me that this is completely normal. This is how it feels. This is how it feels for everyone. And in fact, she has a friend who was in much MORE pain. Whose knee swelled at least three times larger than mine. Who suffered. But how now takes hikes. Who is better. This is the kind of story I need now. I need to know I will get through this. I have so many stories about people who were running on their fifth day post op. These are discouraging. I was bleeding my fifth day post-op and crying to the nurses, begging for my meds. I was not a hero. I was not a miracle. I was slow and in pain and not noble in the least bit. But knowing now that I'm OK -- that I'm on track makes me breathe relief. Phew. . The tears roll down and then she has the needles in me and I am relaxing and falling asleep. The pain has for the moment passed through me. I have let it go. Amazing.

It's 2:50 a.m. Look at this post. Another frantic stream of consciousness, fueled by pain and anxiety and pills. But now, at this very moment, I am breathing. Reminding myself. Breathe. Am calming. Yes. This is the way to do it. And it reminds me that I not only want to come out of this with a good, strong, healthy knee; I also want to come out of this with a good, strong, healthy.. disposition. OK. Disposition is the wrong word. Not sure right now what is the right one? But basically, this is the beginning of a change.

For me, the whole decision to do this surgery was life changing. Yes, even just making the decision. It felt like I was making the decision to plunge into my fears. To go off the high dive. To do it. As a kid, I used to go to the end of the board and think, flip, Janet, damn it, flip. (Have I written about this already? If so, well, skip it but it just works for me as a real-life analogy). Just DO IT (although this was before Nike's slogan infected popular culture). . I'd walk to the edge of the board and then freeze. DO IT. I'd say it in my brain. If there were people watching, they might have yelled a bit in encouragement. Or more likely, they rolled their eyes and thought, damn, girl, it's just a flip into a pool. It ain't a walk into the pits of hell. But it felt that way. Like I was plunging into a new life, a new death. Finally, I would just do it. I'd tell myself, this is it. This is it. No turning back and then I'd go, certain I was facing my own death. Certain I would never reappear. And also knowing as I spun in the air that man, this is just a little flip. Why did I make such a big deal about it? I do bigger things than flips every day. I just don't think about it.

Anyhow, surgery was maybe like that. Except it really was a big fiery vat of fear and pain and everything else that I jumped into. And right now, I'm still in mid air. I'm in the flip. And I still don't know what it will be like when I land. So I'm filled with fear. But I'm also filled with resolve and sometimes, in moments when I can remember to breathe, peace. There is no turning back. I've done this thing. And I'm scared shitless. But I'm also proud. And excited. And worried. And hopeful. Terribly hopeful. Filled with all this optimism. All this fear. All this joy. Because I did it. I did it. And somehow I think it will help me in my life to take other leaps. Other jumps. To face big fears. To do things in spite of danger. That was my new year's resolution -- to face my fears. I'm not talking about bungee jumping or sky diving. For me, it means following my dreams. You know? Like when I want something so bad that it turns my stomach into jello acid. So much I want to change the subject and run screaming from the room. I have those thing. The things that make me scared. Those at the things I know I need/want to do. That is what life is about. Yeah, another cliche, but I don't want to reach the end of my life (if I have that privilege of knowing when I am to die) and think, I just wish I had done x or Y.. . And my X's and Ys are big. I won't go into them now. And now I'm getting sleepy for real.

But back to the acupuncture. Susan helps to remind me that this is part of something bigger. Much bigger. It is my life. This is my ticket to freedom. To a small gate of freedom. For the last ten, fifteen years, my knee has been this thing. This big thing that follows me wherever I go. Like an unwelcome house guest, It demands attention. It limits me. Um, no, sorry, can't go skiing in Tahoe. I got this house guest who won't leave. Yeah. My knee . . No, don't think I can go dancing. Um, can't go to that convention. Too much walking. Disneyland? Sure but you're going to have to push me around in a wheelchair.. . yeah, I know you don't mind. But I hate it. Pushed around like a three-year-old or ninety year old. I'm not ready for that yet. It's not ageist. I just ... well, you get the picture. So, I breathe.

OK. So I'm getting tired and losing my stream of consciousness here so forgive me. But I'm still going to post this. After all, aren't blogs about the here and now?

Anyhow, I was going to artfully weave in this thing that Susan said, but I'm too tired to want to be artful. so I will just share this brilliant piece of wisdom. Things like this constantly come out of her mouth in this sort of Jewish New Yorker-cum-California healer way that I sometimes have to pause and reflect on her brilliance and wisdom. I stopped to write this one down:

"If you're holding your breath, you're holding your experience back. "

Seems silly. Small. But read that again because it's profound. And right. I've been saying that to myself. and Breathing. And then breathing again. Slow. slow. slow. There is always time to hurry. This is a moment that will never come again. Don't be cynical, I have to tell myself. This really is important.

That's what I'm going to do right now.

Congrats to anyone who made it this far. Call me up and I'll send chocolate. (PS -- Rachel, if you got this far, the title was for you)

Maury Povich, blanket wrestling and yawn, more drugs

If the title didn't give you a hint, this is going to be one of those posts -- the kind where I ramble on for my own therapeutic reasons and don't really say much. I'm just feeling a need to reach out and here I am. Don't worry -- this blog is NOT my only outlet -- those of you who have been visiting and calling know that. In fact, here's an apology for those of you who have been calling and have been waiting for my returned calls. I don't know why I'm so slow. Actually, I do. Sometimes it's because I'm so busy with appointments, arrangements, exercises etc. Other times it's just because I'm in pain and don't feel like talking. Last night I actually woke up yelling at my blanket. I was so cold when I went to sleep (a biproduct of constant icing) that I got out my new swanky down blanket from that luxury store, Costco (it's actually a really nice blanket -- maybe that will be my picture.) Anyhow,in my dream, somehow, the blanket was ATTACKING my knee. I mean, with great hostility. I kicked it off and woke up and turned on the TV (which is ROTTING MY BRAIN -- thus the Maury Povich reference in the title, which is all I am going to say on this topic) and sort of watched clear and present danger while playing tetris on my cellphone. Is this one of those posts that's going to come back to bite me one day when I'm about to get my novel published and some diligent reporter uncovers rambling posts about wrestling matches with blankets while on opiates? Actually, the problem was that I wasn't on enough opiates. It had been something like six hours and the pain was full on. Pain is definitely the ugly monster here. Pain is like a big slimy, gnarly, snarling, green, foul-mouthed, bad smelling, monster. Although maybe it is more of a brownish ugly indefinable color because I sort of like green. It is the kind that used to hide in your room at night waiting for the lights to go out. THAT is the enemy. ...

Um, I had written that Friday morning and now it is Saturday night. Actually, it is Saturday morning at 2:27 a.m. I will continue this post in a new one. I am finding that I keep starting posts that I do not finish. I am still getting used to this blog thing (and if right now I am sounding somewhat formal in my use of the language, it is because for some reason my computer is refusing to allow me to use contractions.) I am sure it will get over it soon.

Pictured: the blanket the way it looked in the morning after I wrestled it do the ground.

Everything ok.. .

Just a really quick post to let you know the doc appointment went well. Saw the physician assistant. She told me my knee looks good -- even though it's swollen (swelling's normal). . She measured it and I could bend to 100 degrees, which is much better than I thought. I guess all that pushing is paying off. . BUT she also said that my pain is abnormally high. Knee surgery is painful, she said, so pain is normal. In fact, she said knee surgery is the most painful surgery there is. And knee replacement surgery is probably the most painful knee surgery. So it's a big deal. But I have more pain than others -- probably due to a variety of factors, including having several knee surgeries, having taken some opiates (only on occasion) for chronic pain that's gone on about 15 years and maybe my nerve damage as well (I personally think that's a major factor). Anyhow, we did some medication adjustment. The goal is to get me off these opiates before I get the urge to rob a gas station. But in the meantime, I need them to be able to get through the day and night, let alone to do my rehabbing. . . Also, she's going to do her best to get me into the UC physical therapy program. That would make me feel better; I'd rather be in the same system in which my doc works. Yes, I'm still really disappointed and upset and sometimes angry that my doctor has been so hard to reach. But I am more focused on the bottom line -- the end result -- which is adequate rehab. Anyhow, maybe I'll write more about this stuff later. I'm exhausted and am not even totally sure what I'm writing right now. . . So long --Janet

ps these photos are from the staple removal last week. . . I don't think I'll be writing about it again so I thought I'd post them now. .