April 23, 2012 Big Day

Here it is!

What you can't see (and you should consider yourself very lucky) is the hair on my legs that made removal of the waterproof bandage hurt like hell.  Like.  Hell. On. Steroids.

My regular doctor (well, actually, I don't know if he's regular or not.  I can only assume.  He's usually in a really good mood and I don't think someone constipated would be that happy.) took the stitches out and it was anticlimactic.  After having the bandage rip out all those little hairs, I'm not sure I would have noticed anything.

I told my doctor about this blog and he wanted the address.  I told him that it wouldn't take too long before I offended him, but I gave it to him anyway.  He knows I'm a left wing crazy liberal so I'm not sure anything he reads here will be too surprising.

Having said that, however, very often I'M surprised by what I read here!  We'll see how long it takes before the Good Doctor files some kind of "Please Let Me Give This Crazy Woman Up As A Patient" document.

One thing, I'm good for laughs.

Some days that's the best you can hope for.

April 22, 2012 Instruments of Torture. Don't Tell Dick Cheney

A tea towel and a bath towel.

What harm can come from these benign items?

I'll tell you what harm can come and I'll try not to scream.

CB takes the tea towel, puts it under my heal and demands that I lift my heel off the bed.  TEN times.  Then another ten.  Twice a day.  Oh, and there are TWO kinds of tea towel/leg lift exercises.  Damn.

Then, the towel gets rolled up and put under my knee for  a series of horrible stretches then moved to my ankle for 2 minutes of "let gravity do it's thing" stretching.  TWICE.

Back in the day, CB couldn't stand to see me cry.  He would melt and ask me what was it he could do to make me stop crying.  It broke his heart to see me cry.

That.  Day. Is. Gone.  Long. Gone.

Now when I cry doing these exercises, he tells me to suck it up, that we are in a marathon, not a sprint, that we must do these exercises to get better.  All of this is fine and dandy, but I'M the one doing all the work.  CB is counting to ten, over and over and over again.

All kidding aside, CB has been the best trainer and cheerleader.  Between he and Luke, failure is not an option.

And, no pity parties allowed.

Lots of hugs, which is exactly what I need.

They're pretty smart guys.

April 20, 2012 Headed Back to What Passes as Normal

CB had to go to a visitation this evening for a co-worker who was killed in a car accident.  It was very sad and I felt sorry that I couldn't go with him.  I'm not sure my albino white hairy legs would have been appropriate for the funeral home.  Shit, they aren't even appropriate for my own home.

Before CB left, I wanted a photo of the two of us as proof that we haven't killed each other.  Yet.

I love the shirt I'm wearing here.  Property of Stormont -Vail Total Joint Center.   I try not to wear it on days that I cry, only on days when I'm feeling strong.

I've worn it once.

April 19, 2012 Finallly, Something to Tell

Here's my nest. I like having a bed in the living room so much, it may stay there forever. Curtis, if you are reading this, I'm only kidding. If Curtis doesn't read this, I am totally NOT kidding!

The gigantic pink fuzzy pillow has made my life worth living during the past week. It elevates my leg to the proper height and it's soft.

The first day I was in this bed in this location, I spied several books I thought would be nice to peruse. So, I got my long handled grabber device (without safety goggles) and started pulling books off the shelves. I got pretty good at it because CB walked in and I had about 7 books scattered around me. He was not amused, but I was completely entertained. I can say without regret that none of the books I pulled off the shelf were any of the Kansas statutes (the burgundy and blue books on the bottom shelf). I'm not that bored. yet.

By putting one hand on the wooden stool and the other on the side table, I can get out of bed alone. It's still more fun to ask CB for help because when he lifts me, his arms are around me and I curl into him which feels very safe. And usually he smells really, really nice.

In the mail today was a large envelope from Kansas State University. Enclosed was a nice note from Dr. Pat Bosco and this Powercat cut out to encourage me on my healing journey. The Powercat will remain in place until I can do 3 things: ditch the walker; go upstairs; and have a 90 decree bend in my knee.

I'll keep you posted on the progress. Powercats are tough and so am I!














This poor chair is just like me. It has a bad leg. It started out today with good legs. Four good legs. Four reasonably sturdy legs.

This chair is on loan to me from my mom. It was my brother's at one point and, since it has arms, it was perfect for me at the supper table.

Until today. At 12:20. CB was in the garage getting a splash of milk for his potato soup. I was minding my own business, eating a piece of pizza when I decided to scoot up a bit closer to the table.

Bad idea. In hindsight, not a good idea at all.

One second I'm scooting, then the next second I'm on the ground, flat on my back, yelling for help.

About 10 seconds (it seemed like longer) later, CB was by my side, checking to see if I was okay. And by "okay", I mean bleeding. I was fine. No head bump even.

But we were faced with a problem: how to get me upright. I was not going to be any help at all. I didn't want CB lifting me alone. I weigh more than I should - remember my surgeon so graciously reminded me of that fact a little over a week ago.

CB said he could lift me but after some discussion, we agreed to call my brother in law, Jay, who came right over and with minimal effort, hoisted my ass up off the floor and on to a waiting chair.

All was well.

Almost.

What I didn't mention is that when I hit the floor, I wet my pants. Yes. Indeed. I. Did.

The hits just keep on comin'.

April 18, 2012 Are. You. Kidding. Me?

Look closely, this label tells you to wear safety goggles when using this equipment.

This equipment that is so dangerous as to require safety goggles is my grabber. You know, the long handled thing that helps me to pick up whatever it is I need off the floor.

So far, I have not had to pick up any live hand grenades or rabid vermin so I've not put on my safety goggles.

Curtis, being the safety minded member of the family, had a pair in the garage and has promised to loan them to me should the need arise.

You know, you can never be too careful when picking up socks. Especially MY post PT, pre shower socks. Those toxic bad boys could do some damage.

Maybe I better look into the goggle thing.

If I do, I promise there will be a picture!

I'm Baaaack! So Sorry for the Delay in Laughs

Not to bore you with details but, surgery is over and new knee is in place.  Or that's what they tell me.  Leg hurts like hell not as much as it did preop, though.  Can't bend the damn thing without wanting to puke.  How's that for a visual?

Here are some thoughts from the last 10 days:

A girl's best friend through out a traumatic surgery is stool softener.  You might think it's her husband (who has been amazing beyond words) or pain medication (that, too, has been wonderfully pleasant) or the fact that I'm pretty much having my every need attended to.

Well, not my EVERY need, thus the need for a stool softener.

 I can face every morning with confidence!

CB took me for a walk a couple of nights ago.  I think the leash was a joke. 

In my walker basket I have beer.  Just in case I got too close to the downhill slope in front of the house and took off. 

This was my room at Stormont Vail Hospital.  If you are in the market for a joint replacement, Stormont Vail is the place for you.  EVERYONE, without exception, was wonderful.  Even the people who took my food order over the phone and never met me or would ever meet me, were polite and pleasant and laughed at my sense of humor.

I had 2 shifts of nursing care staff:  day (7 a.m. to 7 p.m.) and night (7 p.m. to 7 a.m.).  Over the next several days I well tell you all about them, but for now, lift them up in your hearts because the job they do day after day and night after night, is nothing short of heroic. 

Here's something to think about:  I went to the hospital totally hydrated as I was asked.  Then, over the course of 12 hours they pumped me full of fluids, huge bags of fluids.  Where, I wondered, was all that fluid going to go?  Where, indeed.

That's what bedpans are for.

Oh. My. God.

I became very good friends with the nursing staff very, very quickly.  Later I was told that I was the best pee'er in the place.  My skills with the bedpan left something to be desired, but that's why there's a laundry department, right?

Here's the hallway I would "walk" as many times a day as I could.  It seemed like a long distance - - and it was for a post op, overweight, one legged woman!

This is me.  Trying to put on a brave face before heading home.  I was, if the truth be told, quite nervous.

So, now I'm back.  I'll try to begin to post daily again.

I must remember to tell you why I called my doctor a "son of a bitch" right before surgery.  Before drugs, too. 

And he is. 



April 7, 2012 Drunk Dialing

I got new pain medication today.  Tuesday seems like a long way off when I can't get my pain under control.

Anyway, I took some of said medication and relaxed while it went to work. And to work it went!  In spades.

For some reason, known only to me, I decided to call my mother.

I thought our conversation was hilarious.  My mom, on the other hand, kept asking "Are you stoned?"

Which I was.
A mother never loses her intuition!