Today was the toughest day of rehab to date. Literally brought tears to my eyes as we went through another session of "scar tissue busting" that takes the definition of pain and the interpretation to a whole new level. That's what this post was going to be about.....but then I got this message from my buddy who had my back in fullback position during college (a guy named Bill Saunders who I'd take in any bar fight, anywhere):
Monday, November 8, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
My new mistress....PAIN....and she must really enjoy being around me.
First, I'd like to thank you all for your positive thoughts and suggestions on how to get through this. And then,a small contingent that have sent me notes wishing....might I say demanding, new posts? Quite frankly, I just havent been up to it with 3 rehab sessions a day and 3 visits to the physical therapist per week. But the reason I mention it is there have been some pretty flattering compliments on the writing itself. Now, I know I'm not in the league of my literary idol, John Robinson, the expansive musings of Arthur Martin, or certainly can't claim to be anywhere near another classmate from Westminster, Holly Lecraw. I think I'd put my skill at putting words to paper somewhere between my ability to hit a 4 iron and play any know "shredder" introduction on my Les Paul. Of course, frame of reference is everything.....
I do enjoy writing, at least when I'm not forcing my knee into unnatural positions after it's been sliced and diced. Ever since we were given a creative writing assignment in Junior English at Westminster by Mr. Rudolph, I'd always had a curiosity. But when I realized I had no chance of putting anything together that would seem classically inspired, I began to read the local newspaper (yes, John, back then I actually did read the paper) and happened upon a story about our erstwhile governor, Lester Maddox. Lester was know as an archetypal southern racist governor, with minors in riding a bicycle backwards and trying to intimidate minorities with pick handles that he sold at his restaurant, The Pickrick, located on what is now the Georgia Tech Campus. Well, as absurd as some political legacies are, Lester was in a class by himself. He looked a little like James Carville, and talked like Ross Perot. He was married to some sweet southern wife who probably just thought him crazy and loved him anyway. I think her name might have been Virginia. Well anyway, we had read Oedipus Rex a year or so prior to this assignment, and in my twisted and competitive prep school mind, I thought I could draw a parallel between the two......sounded like a good idea at the time.
So, I titled the work "Lester Rex, A Classic Tale of Hubris And Lust, Not Necessarily In That Order". To give you the condensed story within the story, it told of a young country boy, abandoned at birth to go and find his fortune from the small hovel of Ludowicia to the great kingdom of Atlantis. Well, Lester ended up connecting back up with his mother, Virginia, bedding her, and had great success in all things political. In the end, the truth was discovered and all hell broke loose, with Lester taking a pulley-bone, and after the ceremonial pull, plucking his eyes out with same, to wander below the gnat line forever, alone and sans Virginia. Mr. Rudolph gave me an A+, read the piece one rainy day in class, and sent it to the AJC as a letter to the editor. They ended up publishing it, much to the surprise of my parents who had no clue that I could write a sentence. I think it was the last piece of satire I ever wrote. But I digress........ Here's the offending pre op knee, complete with two of three scars.
Somewhere along the same path, while my fellow classmates were falling asleep in either History or Old Testament Bible, I remember waking up to Mr. Crow who was known to go ranting off in tongues from time to time "bama lama bama, Yahweh this and Yahweh that, don't have sex and don't do drugs." But at some point, he said "Yeah, verily I say unto thee, if thine knee offends thee, pluck it out or smote it, or something equally final". So, my knee really offended me and I smote it.....see picture of the guilty joint pre op. And this is what it looks like now, 10 days after the surgery and one week after 3 visits to the Dark Lord of Unspeakable Pain....or Emory Orthopaedic Physical Therapy. The shiny stuff is a new, high tech dressing that keeps you sterile and together. The incision itself is sealed with glue, no staples or sutures. Ain't science grand???
A more extensive discussion of the rehab process, and pain management after leaving that marvelous hospital to come.
I do enjoy writing, at least when I'm not forcing my knee into unnatural positions after it's been sliced and diced. Ever since we were given a creative writing assignment in Junior English at Westminster by Mr. Rudolph, I'd always had a curiosity. But when I realized I had no chance of putting anything together that would seem classically inspired, I began to read the local newspaper (yes, John, back then I actually did read the paper) and happened upon a story about our erstwhile governor, Lester Maddox. Lester was know as an archetypal southern racist governor, with minors in riding a bicycle backwards and trying to intimidate minorities with pick handles that he sold at his restaurant, The Pickrick, located on what is now the Georgia Tech Campus. Well, as absurd as some political legacies are, Lester was in a class by himself. He looked a little like James Carville, and talked like Ross Perot. He was married to some sweet southern wife who probably just thought him crazy and loved him anyway. I think her name might have been Virginia. Well anyway, we had read Oedipus Rex a year or so prior to this assignment, and in my twisted and competitive prep school mind, I thought I could draw a parallel between the two......sounded like a good idea at the time.
So, I titled the work "Lester Rex, A Classic Tale of Hubris And Lust, Not Necessarily In That Order". To give you the condensed story within the story, it told of a young country boy, abandoned at birth to go and find his fortune from the small hovel of Ludowicia to the great kingdom of Atlantis. Well, Lester ended up connecting back up with his mother, Virginia, bedding her, and had great success in all things political. In the end, the truth was discovered and all hell broke loose, with Lester taking a pulley-bone, and after the ceremonial pull, plucking his eyes out with same, to wander below the gnat line forever, alone and sans Virginia. Mr. Rudolph gave me an A+, read the piece one rainy day in class, and sent it to the AJC as a letter to the editor. They ended up publishing it, much to the surprise of my parents who had no clue that I could write a sentence. I think it was the last piece of satire I ever wrote. But I digress........ Here's the offending pre op knee, complete with two of three scars.
A more extensive discussion of the rehab process, and pain management after leaving that marvelous hospital to come.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Big Day
So I showed uP at 6:15 am at. Emory Orthopaedic for my date with destiny, or with one of the finest Orthopaedic surgeons in the land according to my son and Angie's list! After putting on the required Suit of Embarrassment, replete with blue bonnet and open in the back to display vertical butt crack, we commenced the long day of verious meds, creams, and most importantly, titanium alloy and cross-linked polymers of limitless durability.
Speaking of meds, specifically pain meds and techniques. We began the day with Verced, followed by injectable Fentanyl to take the edge off two nerve blocks (can't imagine doing that without heavy medication, the quivering patella alone was weird enough) followed by more Verced, then whatever they give you to knock you senseless.
While most Orthos take two or three hours for Arthroplasty, this guy started at 8:14 am and was done by 8:59 am. And they closed me up with Superglue's advanced cousin to avoid big ugly scars on my gorgeous legs.
Then more Verced, then the nerve block drip, then the Dilaudid pump, then toradol, Morphine ER, Tylenol, some weird calf wraps that pump and squeeze to avoid clots, a PCM that flexes your knee 30 degrees regularly.
90 minutes after arriving in my room, I had my first physical therapy. It went well.
So, all in all,not a bad day.
Speaking of meds, specifically pain meds and techniques. We began the day with Verced, followed by injectable Fentanyl to take the edge off two nerve blocks (can't imagine doing that without heavy medication, the quivering patella alone was weird enough) followed by more Verced, then whatever they give you to knock you senseless.
While most Orthos take two or three hours for Arthroplasty, this guy started at 8:14 am and was done by 8:59 am. And they closed me up with Superglue's advanced cousin to avoid big ugly scars on my gorgeous legs.
Then more Verced, then the nerve block drip, then the Dilaudid pump, then toradol, Morphine ER, Tylenol, some weird calf wraps that pump and squeeze to avoid clots, a PCM that flexes your knee 30 degrees regularly.
90 minutes after arriving in my room, I had my first physical therapy. It went well.
So, all in all,not a bad day.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Pre Op funnies
The folks at Emory Scheduled a Pre Op for my Arthroplasty on Wednesday. I've noticed that since the last time I was in a hospital, things have changed. For example, no longer are you expected to swill down lime jello and rubber chicken at 10 30 in the morning. Now, dininig is a room service model..whatever you want and whenever you're hungry. You can even invite up to four people to have a meal with you (not covered by insurance!). Also, the staff are actually glad to have you there, they've even learned "Ritz-speak".
In the pre-op interview, I was told that I'd have two pre-surgery nerve blocks: one for the lower leg that dissipates by midnite and the other that will be maintained longer. Apparently, this helps to navigate the "discomfort" of early rehab. As my buddy JR says "to hell with gritting it out and fighting through then pain, I want to whine and bitch and be taken care of!"
So after getting poked and prodded, I had a series of visitors icluding the anesthesiologist and then a chaplain. I thought inclusion of the chaplain was odd, because when I was asked what religious preference I had, I said "occasional Methodist and aspiring Buddhist". So the chaplain comes in, probably a little uncomfortable, and wants to know if I would like for him to pray for me. Or course I said yes, and then he asked "which knee is it. I like to be specific". I told him it might make sense to do a total body prayer, kind of like a neck massage vs a total body, but he was insistent. I wondered if I would offend celestial benevolence if I goofed with him and gave him the opposite knee, but I didn't.
Stay tuned!
In the pre-op interview, I was told that I'd have two pre-surgery nerve blocks: one for the lower leg that dissipates by midnite and the other that will be maintained longer. Apparently, this helps to navigate the "discomfort" of early rehab. As my buddy JR says "to hell with gritting it out and fighting through then pain, I want to whine and bitch and be taken care of!"
So after getting poked and prodded, I had a series of visitors icluding the anesthesiologist and then a chaplain. I thought inclusion of the chaplain was odd, because when I was asked what religious preference I had, I said "occasional Methodist and aspiring Buddhist". So the chaplain comes in, probably a little uncomfortable, and wants to know if I would like for him to pray for me. Or course I said yes, and then he asked "which knee is it. I like to be specific". I told him it might make sense to do a total body prayer, kind of like a neck massage vs a total body, but he was insistent. I wondered if I would offend celestial benevolence if I goofed with him and gave him the opposite knee, but I didn't.
Stay tuned!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Decisions, decisons.....
Contact sports and the human body just don't agree. Frivolously, I always thought that I could outlast the spectre of injury by staying in shape and not doing anything really stupid. But after years of aches, twitches, shifts, and other anomalies, my right knee finally decided to turn on me....literally. The x-ray showed serious degradation on the interior side of the knee with the surfaces of the femur and tibia literally rubbing against each other. The dreaded "bone on bone" that sounds like something Vincent Price might have whispered on a late Friday night back in the 60's.
So, I tried acupuncture, TENS machines, therapy, anti-inflammatory meds, massage, saunas, Synvisc (a bio-engineered gooey substance that's injected into the knee joint), all types of 'juice, including cortisone, and others. While some treatments helped, in the end, I was miserable and not only did I limp, my right leg started to bow like John Wayne.
What this means, is a total arthroplasty, or knee replacement. To give you an idea of what happens, I've attached an animation that let's you play doctor and do the deed.
Orthopedic Surgeon Animation
No cheating!
Next: Pre-Op!
So, I tried acupuncture, TENS machines, therapy, anti-inflammatory meds, massage, saunas, Synvisc (a bio-engineered gooey substance that's injected into the knee joint), all types of 'juice, including cortisone, and others. While some treatments helped, in the end, I was miserable and not only did I limp, my right leg started to bow like John Wayne.
What this means, is a total arthroplasty, or knee replacement. To give you an idea of what happens, I've attached an animation that let's you play doctor and do the deed.
Orthopedic Surgeon Animation
No cheating!
Next: Pre-Op!
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