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.
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