Going Home!

Hi folks. Just a quick post to say I'm going home this afternoon. My pain is in better control (new drugs). And my knee seems to be healing.. slowly slowly. But coming along. I'll try to keep everyone updated. Thanks again for your patience and support. --Janet

chocolate for ice

Just a quick post; in the hospital, I'm learning the value of things. My ipod = nothing. My walker? that's another story. I've caught two people red-handed trying to swipe my walker. Apparently there are shortages in hospitals. And walkers are among the things of value. Here's the scenario. It's midnight or something and I hear the door open. Some nurses aid looks around. Eyes the walker. Strides over. Me: "What are you doing?" Oh, you, um, don't need that walker, do you?" he says shifty-eyed (ok, I couldn't see his eyes but I KNOW they were shifty) Me: incredulously: "Yeah. I do need it to walk." Him, sounding guilty (at least in my mind) "Oh, OK. No problem." Similar scenario happened last night. Yes, I'm on crutches but the walker is more stable. Jeez. Another thing we can't seem to keep in the room: chairs. My folks come during the day and need a place to sit. And nearly every night they take the chair away. Anyhow, yesterday, I needed an ice pack. I have this ice machine which is pretty pointless. It draws cold water into a plastic pouch and isn't that cold at all. I don't have any money here. But my parents, being experienced and wise, have brought in See's candy. It's a little dangerous to leave me alone with any chocolate but it's easier these days to resist. Anyhow, I traded a physical therapist ice for chocolates. I thought it was a pretty good deal. She probably would have brought the ice anyhow. Yeah, right.

Waiting for the man

Or woman, to be more precise. So, the hazy drug-induced sentimentality of yesterday feels fleeting. Right now, all I want to do is get OUT of pain. Jim's right. Pain and pain meds can really do a number on you. NOW I hear that knee replacement surgery is one of the most painful around. And I believe it. I never thought I'd make a good martyr and obviously, this is proving me out. I talked to my brother last night and he suggested seeing a pain management specialist. I didn't even know that was an option. Maybe I did know that somewhere but whatever part of the brain that information was stashed in apparently has not been accessible to me the past few days. Anyhow, Nancy, the really nice morning nurse, said she's hooked me up with a specialist. I hope to see her soon. Right now I'm eating Percocet and oxycontin (remember -- that's Rush Limbaugh's fav) like candy. And they don't seem to be doing much of anything. Maybe I should save the oxy. I hear it has a high street value. JUST KIDDING. Anyhow, this is a good distraction from pain. I guess what happened is that I bled into the joint -- probably a lot (which is partially why I needed a transfusion). The blood has drained into my shin area and created an ugly black bruise (I won't send pics). It feels like a horse kicked me. I can't get it drained because that creates a risk of infection. So if I can just get through the next few days, I can work on bending it and get me the hell out of this joint.

Drugs can do a number on you

I haven't spoken with Janet today because I've been in California Superior Court, waiting to see if I'm going to be placed on a jury. I've just now read Janet's latest posts.

I had surgery twice in 2000, and I remember being blue/sad/depressed/anxious in the days that followed. And those were very successful surgeries, with quicker-than-expected recoveries. In one case, I had emergency spinal surgery to correct a disc problem on a Thursday night and was back at work the following Monday.

My point: The pain killers and other medicines I was taking post-surgery did a serious number on my mood, stirring up all sorts of emotions I never expected. I'm confident that Janet will be back to her wise-cracking self very, very soon.

Better now

I'm about to fall asleep but wanted to let you know that the orthopedist came by. Dr. Philip Krueger. He assisted in the surgery. Very nice. He reassured me that I was doing fine. Maybe not progressing as fast as others, but all in all, OK. It's a painful surgery. He's increasing my meds so I can tolerate more bending on the passive motion machine. I still can only bend to 60 degrees, and I should be at 90 to go home. Man, it hurts. But he reassured me that I couldn't damage the new knee and that all the arthritis was gone. He also said it's totally reasonable to be expecting to walk, hike, bike, yoga, surf etc. by next year. Before. I do feel a lot better. I guess the big bruise on my shin is just a side effect. So after that, a physical therapist came by and we walked around. I was using my trusty old crutches and went up and down 20 steps. But he ordered me new crutches. These are old -- maybe 20 years old. I painted them for a surgery about 15 years ago so they're sort of like for good luck. But they're heavy and I suppose they could splinter. My dad was making fun of them, saying I could sell them as antiques. Then I came back and got some REAL ice -- as in a plain bag o' ice. Much better than the fancy ice machines. I'm tired but feel like I've turned a corner. I'm pushing myself on the passive motion machine, hoping to get up to 70 by the end of the day. Also, I just found out that my blood count is now 11. It was down to 7.9 when they gave me the transfusions. So that's good. No, I don't know what the number means exactly but I'll look it up later.

A prayer

First, the good news: I do NOT have a blood clot. I knew I didn't but it was reassuring to know for sure. Donna, the person who did the ultrasound, told me to have faith. That it would get better. They keep saying that. You're young. I'm 45. This is the only place I'm considered young. Then I got wheeled back upstairs in my gurney. And a hospital chaplain came by. Lucy Zhang. I thought I just happened to run into her, but she was apparently there waiting for me. The day after I came from surgery another chaplain had started talking to me when we got interrupted. Anyhow, being Jewish -- and not practicing as much as I once did -- I thought it was a moot point; I'm in a Catholic hospital. And the chaplains are clearly Christian. I certainly didn't want to have a theological discussion. Nor was I in a mood to be "saved." But I was laying there in the gurney and she didn't seem to want to do anything but comfort me. I thought of Shannon's work as a chaplain in a hospital and that put me at ease. Shannon -- Wakoh -- would only want to comfort. And Lucy seemed to be genuine. Maybe a little nervous. So I'm laying there feeling good that it is not a blood clot but verging on depressed. Like why did I do this. I should be healing faster. I'm in so much pain. And pain can make you crazy. She starts asking me questions. But I'm in too much pain to talk. So I tell her, Lucy, I'd like a prayer. I know we're of different faiths, but who am I to turn down someone's prayers -- someone' s wishes and love? She takes me by the hand, at that nurses station, the hallways lit bright with the harsh florescence but still relatively quiet -- TVs not yet blaring -- and she says a prayer. I can't remember it exactly, but basically she asks for healing and love and thanks God for the support of my friends and family because I've told her that I'm not alone. That I do have support. And something inside of me cracks open just a little bit. A small release, like a tiny heart fluttering free for a moment. She closes the prayer with it with thanks to Jesus. I feel a little worried. Like it doesn't count or like I'm betraying my people. I ask her about that. She says, well, that's my belief so that's who I pray to. It makes sense. And she makes me feel good and cared for so I thank her and take her picture. (Yes, I take my Razr with me, even on my gurney. ) --Janet

Wishing I could be cheery

Well, I wrote up some rambling incoherent posts yesterday that I'll post soon. But I know people are looking here (which I appreciate) so while the Percocet is just kicking in, I'll give you a quick update. Mom left her computer here last night for me so it's me writing. The blood transfusion has given me more energy. But I'm also in a lot more pain. I have this weird bruising on the front of my calf so they're going to take an ultra sound. This after two days of complaining. OK, becoming hysterical. Pain can do that. I hate to be a complainer, but the old saw, the squeaky wheel gets the grease has never been truer than when in a hospital. What happens is the drugs wear off and the pain ramps up and gets so extreme that I'll do anything to be out of it. I mean, anything. I wonder if this must be what it feels like to be a drug addict. Except the medicine isn't making me high, per se. It's just bringing me out of pain and putting me into this sort of surrealistic zone where I get to float just a bit. I guess that sounds a lot like being high. It's like it makes the pain this fuzzy picture in the distance. Like, oh, I see it. I know that. What is it? But I don't have to go there to look. It can just stay fuzzy. If only for an hour or two. I wish I could be writing all of you telling you everything is great and I'm so happy I did this and I can't wait to go hiking. I wish I could be that person. But sorry, it's me, and all I can say is that I'm doing my best to not go to the place of regret since it won't do me any good. I keep reminding myself that things were NOT good before. Remember the night I cried as I walked to the restaurant with Cesa and Dawn? It was less than a half mile away? Or the day I walked from home to BART to go to work and by the time I got to work, I was quietly whimpering? Or the days when I thought, I can't deal with bodyboarding any more. It just hurts too much. But there were good days too. And I suppose I could have waited. How long though? A year? Two? Maybe. I just can't go there. I thought long and hard about this decision. It was ten years coming. And it was the right one, damn it. It's done and it will be good. Positive thinking. Right. On the other hand, I do want to say that my friends and family have all been amazing and supportive and helpful. I do feel loved and supported. I can't think of a non trite way to say that. It shows me that when you ask for help, you can usually get it. I feel so helpless but I don't feel alone. And that makes it much easier to get through this. Last night as I was waiting for the clock to tick by so I could get my next pain dose, I was hugging the bear that my cousin gave me. Actually, it was my niece, Ayla. So thanks Ayla. The pic is of him sitting at the computer. Hopefully in a few hours, I'll have something great to report. And I'll go back and post that long post about the blood transfusions. My parents are bringing in my computer so I can blog more. It helps. Even if no one is reading it, it helps me to just vent and share. So please keep the comments and email and calls coming. And I will call back when I can. If you can deal with the craziness of the hospital and my really, really, really, bad hair days (haven't washed for a week) , I do like visitors as well. --Janet

Saying cheese

I asked Janet to send us some photos of herself. I got these just minutes ago.

On the good foot

Janet was receiving the transfusion through her left foot, she told me later today when we spoke by phone. Then, through the miracle of technology, she e-mailed a photo of just that, taken with a cellphone, I suspect. On the far right edge of the photo, what's that? Looks like a stuffed animal to me.

In any case, she was eating a cheeseburger (a "pretty good one") when I spoke with her. A good appetite is a good thing.

Still later, Janet called to say the first transfusion did not work. The nurses are now trying a different approach. I took the opportunity to ask Janet when she expected to be sent home. Not Sunday, she says, but maybe Monday.

A move, and a transfusion

Janet relocated to a skilled nursing unit on the fourth floor of St. Mary's Medical Center today, a unit where patients are sent when they're not healing as quickly as expected. "Service is a bit slower here, but it's all fine,'' she told me this morning in a voice-mail message.

Early in the morning, she was to receive a blood transfusion because her blood count is very low. Janet says she believes the low blood count is due to the fact that she donated blood -- twice, I think -- to herself before her operation on Tuesday. "That's the joy for today,'' she says. "So I'm feeling a little dehydrated and weak and starting to rethink the whole idea of having surgery. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea.''

She's exercising, working on leg extensions and "just feeling a little blue.''

It helps to know that her friends and co-workers are thinking of her. The flowers USA TODAY sent are "beautiful tulips.''

Janet has some access to e-mail, so encourages friends to send her a message, although she can't always respond. "It makes me feel good to know people are out there thinking of me,'' she says.

It's hard to judge someone's condition from a telephone call. Still, Janet sounded better than when I spoke with her Thursday. That day, she was heavily medicated as doctors tried a different pain medication. Today, in contrast, Janet sounded stronger and more clear-headed. That's great!

A drowsy phone call

I spoke with Janet this morning, but it was very hard to understand her because she was pretty doped up. Her doctors were switching her to a different pain medication, Dilaudid, to replace the morphine that wasn't working.

Day two brings welcome sleep

Janet is getting some much-needed sleep today -- 24 hours after surgery, her mom, Charlene, told me just a few minutes ago. For that reason, it's probably a good idea to limit visitors in her room at St. Mary's Medical Center.

It's still unclear whether she will be discharged, as had been expected, within three or four days. Charlene thinks she'll know more on Thursday. Despite Janet's having been in a lot of pain, Charlene says, "She’s doing really well."

All done!

Janet came through the surgery just fine. According to her mom, she didn't actually GET there until about 2:15 pm. What a drag. There's not much worse than waiting around when you're already nervous, hungry and thirsty.

It ended at about 5 pm or so. The doctor said all went well and that having the surgery was the right decision, based on how it all looked when he got in there.

By now she should be back in her room. Depending upon what type of anesthesia they gave her, she'll either be feeling awful from the drugs or just feeling kind of awful.

I'm glad everything went well. I'm a friend who lives in Maryland. I hate being so far away from her now but I know she's surrounded by lots of caring people. I'm grateful to her mom for calling me with the updates.

A little delay

I spoke with Janet a little while ago. Her surgery was postponed to 12:45 pm rather than 11:45 am. She was in the pre-op room and was just hanging out and waiting. She was thirsty. It's a drag when they don't let you drink anything past midnight the night before when the surgery is scheduled in the morning. It's a double-drag when they keep pushing it back.

She said the surgery is expected to take 2-3 hours.

More as I hear...
Patty

PS

The surgery is scheduled for 11:45 a.m. I will be the THIRD or FOURTH joint replacement of the day for Dr. Reiss. As my friends have said, he'll be all warmed up. Hopefully. I'm due at the hospital at 9:45. Just in case you were wondering. . .

The Details

Tomorrow, January 23, I'm doing it: total knee replacement. The surgery will be performed at St. Mary's Medical Center in San Francisco by UCSF doctor Michael Ries. He has an excellent reputation. He will be performing something called minimally invasive knee replacement surgery, which basically means they make a smaller incision so the healing should be a bit faster. The joint he's using is called Journey, which, comes in smaller sizing for women and is relatively new. It offers lots of ligament support and is made out of something called oxinium, oxidized zirconium. So I will be bionic. And yes, I will set off metal detectors! The accompanying picture is the picture of the device that will be installed in my leg).

I will be in the hospital 3 to 5 days and in hardcore recovery about three weeks. I will be out of work anywhere from 6 weeks to three months. My parents -- including my Mom and Dad (just wanted to include that link) and Cesa will be keeping track of my progress and I've asked my friends Patty and Jim to post regular updates on this blog. I also should have my cellphone with me (and will forward my home phone). If you need any of those numbers, please email. (I don't want to post here since this is public. But for those of you who actually know my last name, I'm listed in the phone book! If you want to visit, just call first. I don't know how I'll be feeling in the hospital. But I know I'll want lots of visitors at home. Thanks again for all your support and for putting up with my craziness the past few months.

Thoughts on THE DAY BEFORE. . .

Well, long time no post. Here's what you missed: a whole string of anxiety ridden posts. Should I do it? Is it too early? Is this the right kind of joint for me? Is this the right of doctor? Is my timing good? Will I come out completely crippled? Etc. etc. in other words -- the usual. But here I am, the day before surgery. And I would say my mood today is the combination of scared and optimistic with a healthy dose of frazzled. My parents came to town last night and we (including Cesa) spent the day together. The weather couldn't have been better. It's been pretty cold here for those not living in San Francisco. At least for us. I mean -- it has been down to freezing. That's legitimately cold, right? But yesterday couldn't have been a more beautiful day. The sun was shining and I was tempted to walk around in a short sleeve shirt and shorts, but it was still in the 60s and I was with my mom who would've worried :-) we went out to restaurants and drove around. Today it's kind of gray outside. That's okay because I still have a lot of errandy things to do. Lately I've been thinking about how my life will improve. I will be able to walk without pain. I will be able to hike and bike. In other words, I will be able to do things that I've only dreamed about doing the last several years. Actually, it was a conversation I had a few weeks ago with a wonderful woman who had her knee replaced earlier this year. She's in her early 50s and very athletic. She said she just wishes she had done it before. I've now heard that from a lot of people. But when she told me that she was going to do the AIDS ride I actually started tearing up and crying. It wasn't until that moment that it really hit me: I might actually be able to do these things again. I might actually be able to take those long bike rides through the Presidio or across the Golden Gate Bridge -- or just in my neighborhood. I also had my lower back checked out because it's been hurting a lot. And the doctor thought it was really connected with my knee. It makes a lot of sense. For 35 years I've been lifting things the "wrong" way. So of course, my back is hurting. I felt so relieved that it wasn't something else. So that was also good news. I'm hoping that knee surgery also helps my back. Anyhow, I've told everyone that if I can ride my bike again, you basically won't get me off of it. I went through a phase a year and a half ago where I was riding my bike to work. It was exhilarating and invigorating, especially riding down Market Street and dodging all the cars. But after a few rides, my knee really blew up. And I realized I couldn't do this anymore. So, these are the things that are floating through my head today. I haven't been sleeping very well. But I'm still feeling okay. I'm hoping that I can get a spinal rather than undergo general anesthesia. I know it was 35 years ago, but I got so sick from it that I can't imagine doing it again. Anyhow, I'm going to end this rambling post and then I'm going to post the details for those who want to cut to the chase. Please forgive all my speakos here. And please forgive my rabid self-centeredness. I sort of giving myself permission to be completely self obsessed right now. But hopefully, I will get over myself after surgery :-) (The picture is a current pic of my knee. Pretty cool scars, eh? I'll have cooler ones soon.) Over and out for now -- Janet