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. .

Wish me luck...and Happy Valentine's Day

Going to see the physician assistant today to find out about my progress and to try to get into the UCSF physical therapy program. I really like my current physical therapist, but I want to get back into the UC system, as they're accustomed to working with my doctor. (When I had surgery at St. Mary's that apparently pumped me into their physical therapy system.) For those who don't know (and why should you?) physical therapy is pretty essential in this surgery. If you don't bend your knee enough, it could actually adhere and cause you to have another surgery. But if I overdo it then. . well, you get the picture. I'm very happy to be going to this appointment. Diane is driving me with her son, Charlie. I'll hopefully post pictures later.

Also, I want to blog about all the fine food I've been eating. Last night my friends Susan and Jim came over and cooked an entire meal. YUM. And they left me leftovers. I LOVE leftovers. And it was incredibly delicious. The other night Jennifer and David came over and cooked a meal so I had been surviving off those. Not to be sappy -- but I have to say I'm feeling the love and really appreciate it. . . And yesterday -- I almost forgot -- I had my first meal OUT with Oren. Good thing the restaurant allowed me to prop up my leg with my big ol' icepack. It was nice but tiring. . . you know how sushi is :-) When I came home, I felt like I'd run a marathon and immediately hit the sack and conked out for several hours.

I'll try to post later but a few random notes: nights are getting slightly easier but still in pain. Trying to tone down the meds. Wish I didn't have to take them at all, but man, this bone pain sucks. Had a dream last night featuring the cast from the SF office at work. No, I can't quite remember it but it had something to do with the weather and covering hurricanes for the paper. I think I fell asleep with the weather channel on. (I'm also thinking good thoughts about you; Nancy was on TV, which is all I remember.) Sometimes when I wake up in pain, I just turn the TV on. Having voices of other humans helps somehow. I've actually started enjoying the history channel. But I also am hoping to start reading again. Funny how hard some things feel. Concentration is not my best attribute at this point. Nor is patience.

But am trying to keep a positive attitude, as I feel it's important for healing .. . will post photos later.

Oh, one last thing -- and man, this is a bummer. Turns out that sugar is actually BAD for healing. And I thought chocolate fixed EVERYTHING. but apparently it doesn't. And no, I didn't learn that from Oprah (It was just a convenient link). In fact, I'm not really watching daytime TV. But I do tune into her at night once in awhile (hey Oprah, enough with the celeb interviews already; whatever happened to touchy/feely/tear-jerking Oprah? Is she gone or am I just catching the celeb shows?)

So that's my stream of consciousness for the morning.

I'm trying to post more often, even if they're little, blabbery posts.

PS just added this picture. This is from my lunch. And yes, I ate this. YUM!

Cattipuncture, cold packs and quasimodo

Sorry it's been awhile since I've posted. I wanted to give a status update. I'm just beginning to feel human again. I'm still on crutches and my knee still resembles a small melon -- but that's better than a really big one. But my range of motion is slowly increasing. I got a little freaked out earlier this week because I'm not progressing nearly as quickly as I thought I would. The thing is -- if you don't bend and straighten your knee adequately after this surgery, it can literally get stuck. Something about adhesions. And then you need more surgery to unstick it. And yeah, that's pretty much the LAST thing in the world that I want. I'm trying my best to avoid the land of regrets. You know, like why did I do this? Um, a little late for that. And instead, trying to send positive vibes and think good thoughts and take my drugs and work on bending and straightening. Bending and straightening. Oh, and did I say that I have to bend and straighten my leg a lot? Yeah. That. Because that really is my whole life. That and doing little things. Like using only one crutch so I can carry my coffee mug (yes, I'm very bad and still am drinking coffee and don't try to talk me out of it either) to the kitchen. Or carry an ice pack ALL BY MYSELF. Every time I do something like that, I expect the room to burst into applause, like I'm the Dixie Chicks stepping up for yet another Grammy. Except that usually my audience consists of Kali and Henry and they sort of look at me like, did that trick involve putting food in my dish? Because if it didn't, it didn't happen. (Henry's motto: I eat; therefore I am)

But sometimes I do have an audience. Like Cesa, who has been a real hero, bringing me ice in the middle of the night and allowing me to turn on the "box" as she calls it (TV) when I wake up in the middle of the night in so much pain I literally can't think to just sort of have white noise. It works. She even says, "that's great!" when I sort of do a Quasimodo limp to the bathroom or something.

Last night was my first night alone, and I think I did OK. I won't go into the whole drug thing again, but I think I'm finding the right balance of pill popping. I'm trying to scale it back during the day when I can better tolerate the pain. And I'm timing my "workouts" so they hit at the optimum time after drug taking. . .I can tell that I'm having a little less pain because sometimes when I take a full dose, I actually feel a tiny bit high. It's kind of amazing that I don't feel that, given that I'm taking class one opiates. But amazingly enough, most of the time I don't. And I'm begin diligent about not letting myself go. Because if I go too long in between doses, the pain comes on strong and then it's hard to get out of it. . I'll blog later about the exercising.

Jeez. I thought I'd sit down to write a quick catch up and here I am blabbing again. I don't know who, if anyone, is still reading this thing. But I have to say it's very therapeutic to get this stuff out. And obviously, I'm not editing, which also is kind of fun. So you can tell from my tone that things are going decently. I guess I'm edging into that place of accepting that I will not/am not going to simply get better over night. duh. And I keep saying, hey, if I can go for a hike in six months, or boogie board, or ride my bike to the office (without having to crawl the next day) it'll be worth it. Right? Right? Hey, is anyone listening? Oh well, better go take my coffee mug to the kitchen soon.

I'll blog later about getting staples out. Good pics on that, ya'll. . Oh yeah, one cute thing. Sort of. I was getting my second session of acupuncture (which I ADORE) and Kali decides that it would be a good time to sit on my belly. She likes doing that because it's warm. And I like her doing it -- because it's warm. So, I'm all needled up and laying there and she's purring and I'm feeling blissful and very in touch with the universe, when Kali notices these little metal things protruding from my skin. You can guess what she does next. She starts batting out the needles. "SUSAN," I hell. She runs in and kicks Kali out and then jokes that she's never done cattipuncture before. Funny. At least I thought so. Ok. that's my cute cat story of the week. Mostly I included it so I could put it in the title.

One more thing: when I was freaking yesterday, I made my friend Betty wait while I sent out a bunch of emails and calls and I got an appointment to see the physician's assistant tomorrow. Man, do I feel better. I just really want to make sure I'm progressing as I should be. Plus, I really, really want to go to UCSF physical therapy. I've been to them before and the staff is excellent, especially this one therapist, June. I guess if you want something done in the medical system, you really have to be vocal. In the end, I may not be the most beloved patient, but I just want to make sure I heal correctly. I don't intend to do this again. Not until I have Alzheimer's and am able to completely forget about this experience.

I'll try to bring you up to date on my blog in the next few days. I have a bunch of posts I've started but never finished. I still haven't posted the drama of the transfusion. . which I want to post just for the record. Well, my buddy Oren will be here soon so I get to shower!! (I'm not ready to shower without another person in the house to make sure that if I fall I really CAN get up.)

PS I 'borrowed" this picture from here: http://www.missioncreep.com/hagen/vision/crutches.html Man, if that hasn't been sold, maybe I'll buy it. . .

Needles and tracks

Just wanted to share a few pictures from my wonderful acupuncture session with Susan. She came to my house. She's very healing. Great energy and I felt really relaxed after. By the way, Susan, who has worked with many people who have had total knees said mine looked "great." She added that for my stage of recovery, I was moving really well. That felt really good -- to have an optimistic professional opinion. PS the one in the middle is Susan. PPS sorry about the bad layout. Not sure how to do it better with this program.

To drug or not to drug....

This is a post I could have written at any point during this process. I've written about it already but the question I'm having more and more of these days is all about my medication. Currently I'm on iron, something for stomach acid and hydromorphone, aka dilaudid. It's basically morphine -- an opiate. But the funny thing is, I don't feel "high." And if you talk to me i sound pretty with it. I can't say the same for the first several days in the hospital. Those are a total blur. And people tell me I was speaking a language unfamiliar to them. It was unfamiliar to me as well, I can assure you. Anyhow, I'm aware of the fact that this stuff is highly addictive. But I'm told to not worry about it until a few weeks later, when I'm out of pain. Right now, as I'm typing, it is morning. I took my last dose at 5:08 a.m. (I write down the times) and it is now 10:07 a.m. That's five hours. So that's longer than I've gone. But now the pain is high. My joint is achy. It feels like a giant bruise and as I think about it, it hurts more. But this is a similar pain to the kind I had BEFORE the surgery when I'd do too much. It would feel almost like this. And I'd take something for it when it got this bad. Perhaps that's why I'm having trouble with meds; most people have good knees for many years -- decades -- then at some point in their 60s, 70s or 80s, their knee or knees start hurting. A lot. And then they have surgery. For me, the transition to a TKR has been far different. First surgery at 9 to remove my meniscus, then five subsequent arthroscopes to basically remove junk left over and created after the first surgery. I've had knee issues for 35 years, severe pain several times, and in the past decade -- maybe longer -- bone on bone arthritic pain. So it's complicated. Maybe, as the pain doctor said, my brain remembers the pain and records it differently. (I told her I could do hypnosis; she told me I just need better drugs.) I don't totally understand this but it makes sense. Maybe I have more scar tissue (I'm sure I do) and that might make a difference. Maybe I've developed a resistance. Probably all of the above. Anyhow I've been trying to cut back. Actually, I sort of did already; I'm off the fentanyl patch. It itched and I took it off and just never put a new one back on. So If in a month, I'm still writing about being on opiates, I suppose I have a problem. But I'm not really worried about it now. It's just hard because I have different people giving me different advise. The way I see it is if I start feeling "high," I should tone it back. As it is, during the day, I'm cutting back from 8 mg to 6... But if I'm in pain, then I can't heal; I can't do my exercises and furthermore, I'm unpleasant. PS Speaking of drugs, someone suggested yesterday that people looking for the 420 might be hitting my sight. Duh. The new JOINT. . I know. I live in San Francisco and I didn't even think of that. I MUST be high. I'll add a link later to a film that my friend did about medicinal marijuana. PPS My wonderful accupuncturist is about to come and I just took some meds so I'm not in pain during the treatment. PPS later this afternoon, I get the staples out. Finally!!

Visits and more visits

So, I'm I'm having visitors off and on. My energy comes and goes. Today was my first outing since surgery. Cesa (an angel for taking care of me) and I went to the medical supply store to pick up some icepacks and then the market. By the end, I felt so faint, I thought I was going to pass out. But I didn't. Don't worry. Cesa was keeping a good eye on me. It felt good to walk. And I'm able to bear a lot of weight right now. (A lot is subjective, as I haven't had the heart to weigh myself since surgery). And I'm bending more. So all in all, things are looking up. This is a picture of me and my beautiful niece Ayla, who came with her mommy Lisa to visit and cook breakfast on Sunday. Isn't she great. Nothing like the love of a three year old to help you heal.

Showering love

Yay! I Finally took a shower! I can't tell you how good this feels. A simple thing like a shower. I haven't been totally filthy since the surgery; I've been taking these sponge baths. I've even been washing my hair with these shower cap things. You microwave these products for less than 30 seconds and they become warm and wet. You put the shower cap on and scrub like you're washing your hair. You finish and your hair is wet, like you just washed it. You feel clean. But not for long. My stitches/staples are still in. They come out Friday when the physical therapist comes back. Until then, I'm not supposed to get them wet. But the wound (about five to six inches long) is pretty much sealed up. I don't think I could do more damage. My physical therapist, in fact, told me I don't need to keep it covered and yesterday I stopped wearing those horrible compression socks. Anyhow, I stuck on a chain of waterproof bandaids and that did the trick. Kept it totally dry. So I shaved, shampooed, lathered in copious amounts of soap and put in enough conditioner to get through a first week beauty shop class. Damn, it felt good. I guess it makes you grateful for the small things in life. This is a picture of my knee now with waterproof princess bandaids. The lines were drawn when they did the original surgery. They make horizontal lines so that when they seal you back up, they can match the skin. And THIS is a MINIMALLY invasive incision. Imagine a maximally invasive one.

There's no place like home

Sorry for the absence, but I've been soaking up being home. I came home Wednesday and slept decently for the first time since surgery -- actually since before surgery, since anxiety was keeping me up. Now it's just good old fashioned pain. Thank God, I finally got the right drugs. I'm taking these intense narcotics and should be flying, but strangely enough, I actually just feel normal. It seems to mostly act on the pain. . Right now, I'm sitting in my living room with my mom and dad and my caregiver/nurse/angel, Ellie, who is helping take care of me. I'm too tired to write more but I promise to keep you posted. I wanted to thank everyone again for all your kind wishes and for putting up with me the first few days. I understand that I apparently was speaking a language other than English the first few days after surgery. It's mostly a blur to me now.
That's all for the moment. This is a picture of my mom hanging with my cat, Kali. --Janet