The Day After/My First Look

Those first few hours are doozies but the next morning is even moreso. But there is not any resting going on....despite that requirement to stay off the leg and rest. The morning after dawned bright and clear and my day was slated to start EARLY.

My physical therapist (wonderful woman by the name of Debra--best physical therapist in the whole world if you ask me and a few others) needed me to come in by 7AM so she could remove the drain (a wonderful disc shaped container that caught the blood and other fluids that were draining out of my knee) and look at the incision and see just how much I was able to do (that's an easy question, and NOTHING would be the answer).

Getting me up was easy...NOT. One night may have brought back memories about how to move, but my body was not cooperating. It took me a bit of time to get back in the groove on how to maneuver, etc. on crutches. I had an advantage this time. I was about 40 lbs lighter than the first surgery so at least there wasn't as much of me to maneuver as there once was. :-)

Getting dressed was easy. I didn't. Debra would have to accept me in my jammies. I wasn't allowed to shower (can't get the leg wet) so I had to take a "stand-up" bath. Okay, well, I was really medicated still and my leg is totally numb and I have no balance yet so the kids (bless their little hearts) bring in a chair (on wheels mind you) for me to sit on. OK. That will work. Things progress slowly. I manage to clean myself up, get my brace on and by the time I'm ready to go, I'm exhausted. I was ready for bed.

But I can't. This drain is absolutely full and I really don't want to mess with emptying it out and it HAS to come out. So I crutch my way out to the truck. Apparently, it had also been too long for my husband between surgeries. I open the door to the passenger side of the truck and he is already seated and ready to go. I look at him expectantly (having not forgotten how attentive he can be at times like this) waiting for his brain to kick in and remember that I cannot get into the truck by myself. Finally, it hits him. He gets out of the truck and as he walks around to my side, you can see the realization sinking in as he remembers and anticipates how demanding this kind of thing is. He also seems to have forgotten how to help me into the truck.

I get positioned, grab onto the handles of the truck and pull up while he supports my leg....kinda. I also have no feeling in the leg, let alone no muscle left at all so I can't LIFT it, and he's not moving it so I'm kind of just hangin' round. I'm looking at him, expectantly of course, and he is returning the look, waiting for me to maneuver my bottom half into what looks like a very nice sized space but feels like a sardine can when bandaged and braced up as I am.

Finally, I realize that God gave me a mouth for a reason and he's obviously not getting what I need. So I remind him that he has to move the leg for me. Finally, I get into the truck, my leg stuck straight out and I'm trying to suck up the pain that has screeched down my leg as I sit in a position that I'm sure would not be doctor recommended.

We reach physcial therapy and he gets out and promptly forgets that I cannot get OUT of the truck by myself either. We finally get me out and he forgets to hand me the crutches. (Yup...need those too dear. Thanks!)

Debra greets me like an old friend. I had grabbed my video for her (Dr. P videos the first part of the surgery which is the arthroscopic part before shutting off the camera and breaking out the saws and other gruesome tools he needs for surgery) so she pops it in and watches it. Then she gets down to business. The brace comes off, she unwraps the bandages, and takes a look and then takes the drainage tube out. This time, I handle the removal well. No dizziness, no stomach upset, nothing. I'm definitely becoming a pro at this stuff! (That, my friends, is a sign of someone who has had too many surgeries!)

Under the bandages, was a surprise...we had noted these "tube things" the night before but didn't know what they were for....it turned out they were to an ice machine. That was new. What in the heck was an ice machine? I wasn't given an ice machine. My husband and I must have had that confused look that dogs get....you know, where they cock their head to the side and look at you as if saying "what?" My physical therapist said that he apparently wanted me to have an ice machine and we should contact the CPM people....they would know. Well, okay then. I know an ice machine sounded good. Anything sounded better than the ice pack that I had.

A phone call and an hour later, we are being sent home with a cooler. Okay, a cooler with a couple of strange attachments. I had been begging for one of these things. Had already invented it in my head....someone else just beat me to actually making it. It was WONDERFUL. Turns out that thing with the funky little tube things actually hooks up to the funky attachments coming from the ice machine. You fill the cooler up with ice (we figured out you could freeze bottles of water--they last longer)and water and viola! You wrap that funky thing around the knee (make sure you have a barrier between the thingy and skin) and flip the switch and ice cold water circulates through and it is just great. Between that little ice machine and my CPM machine, I was in absolute heaven. Oh, let's not forget the pain medication. Always good. Always.

So, that trip to physical therapy and to get the ice machine wore me out. I was ready to collapse. We go home, get me in bed, medicate me, make sure I'm "iced" and in my machine, oops....forgot to go to the bathroom. What a pain. Go to the bathroom. Climb back into bed, reattach the ice machine (it does get to be a pain after a bit of time passes), get in the CPM, everything is going, I'm medicated, I have snacks available, reading material, tv remote (not that any of this matters once the pain medicine kicks in), and I'm appropriately propped up and comfortable, and I'm gone. Asleep. For a while anyway.

Saturday morning I get up and decide to get the changing of the bandages over with. I'm wanting a bath. I want to go to church the next day. JB will be going to work and I need help....I figure he won't want to do the bandages so I crutch on out to the living room. I send the kids on various missions. Rikki, get me a towel, Ryan, get me bandages, JB, get me alcohol, the isopropyl kind, blah blah blah. Somehow I manage to sit myself down right in front of the door. I am required by the doctor to be in my brace when I'm up. He does not want me to risk injury or bending of the knee. It is very unstable and the screws can easily be torn loose and destroy all the work he's done (not to mention cause me intense pain). So I undo the brace (that, too, becomes a pain after a while), undo the miles of ace bandage and start removing the bandages.

And there it was. What the heck is that?!?!!? I know my eyes must have popped out of my head. I expected the same as the last time, blue fishing line stretching the length of the incision. Oh no. I had staples! OH MY GOSH. The kids were ugh-ing and saying things like ooh gross, and does it hurt (is that really a necessary question?) and all I can see are staples! 20 to be exact. I'm sure you are wondering why I'm upset over staples. No, it isn't because it looked like I was Frankenstein's cousin, and I wasn't worried about scarring, I'm past that. Those staples may have went in when I was asleep, but they were coming out when I was awake. THAT WAS THE PROBLEM.

Fishing line slides out.....Staples, well, from past observations on my son, they use a friggin staple remover! Holy moley...and we all know if you leave them in too long, things start growing back. I couldn't allow that to happen. After a couple of intense minutes, I finally came to grips with reality. And I figured if I needed to, I'd medicate myself prior to the appt and I'd be good. Along with the 20 staples, I had two fishing line stitches where the cameras had gone. I didn't think twice about those. A snip of scissors and out they come. No pain. (yeah right--I'll tell you about that later)

I got a good look at my leg. It was quite ugly, actually. Swollen. My foot was looking pretty large. Quite large actually. So large, that I was just a tad concerned. I took a paper towel and doused it with alcohol and started rubbing all the yellow medicinal crap off my leg. It looked much better. I tried to leave the incision alone as it needed to scab and I didn't want to stretch the incision or break the scab so the scar wouldn't stretch out like the previous one. It burned something awful but again, I am blessed in that I don't feel every bit of the pain, just a percentage. Once I was rebandaged, I got breakfast and went back to bed and was "iced" down. At this point, we had not figured out about the bottles of frozen water and they were loading my ice machine every few hours...we're a little slow on the uptake.

Having been told to stay away from dark colas (they pull the potassium from your bones and slow the healing process), I became an avid fan of Diet Sprite. Not my first choice but it fit the bill. And when you are medicated, who cares?

Later, our friends, Jeff and Ragan came over with Shelby in tow. Jeff was going to play cards (Texas Hold 'Em night) and Ragan and Shelby came to visit me. Of course, I wasn't too much company. My cousin came in and sat down and we chatted a bit about my knee and I got the usual "how ya feelin'?" questions from everyone. After about an hour of that, I was on my way back to bed. I was just worn out. JB would not sleep with me so Rikki slept with me again. Of course, I don't know why anyone bothered to sleep with me, since no one would wake up to help me to the bathroom....what good were they?

So I get to bed and decide that I need a bath. I want to go to church in the morning. And my foot has taken on this leprous look...skin is peeling and disgusting. I am not sure what in the world was going on there but it was just gross. So we go to the bathroom and sit me down on a chair. We have to undo everything and I'm sitting there stripped down to my underwear and bra (any further and Rikki would freak) and I take a bath. After much convincing, Rikki reluctantly washes my foot. After all, I can't reach it. Once bathed (that takes a heck of alot more energy than one would think), I manage to get positioned over the bathtub, get balanced and I manage to get my hair washed. I get in my jammies and crutch it on back to the bed. I'm halfway back in and positioned when, you guessed it. I didn't go to the bathroom while I was up. DARN IT. I weigh my choices. Like there are a lot. I mean it's go or don't go. Right? If I didn't go, I'd sit there, knowing I have to go and it would drive me nuts. If I go, then I have to go through all that getting up and out stuff. AGAIN. Dehydration sounds pretty good about now.
So I get up, make my way back to the bathroom, wondering how in the world can I solve this getting up and down problem....(I never did come up with a good answer--but it kept me busy thinking of other things) and I finally make it back to bed. I get up and in and propped and fastened and prepped for ice, etc. and I can tell that the pain is coming. I can feel the heat of the pain. Rikki connects the hoses and turns the ice machine on and AAAAHH....>RELIEF. The ice cold water immediately relieves everything. There are no words to describe how good it feels. Praise the Lord! Praise IGLOO. Praise whoever came up with that idea!

While I lay there, Rikki paints my toenails...they have to be pretty for church tomorrow. I can wear my sandals since I'm not doing anything but crutching it. I'm definitely not moving fast enough to do anything wrong. The polish finally dries and I'm done. The television is on, I have my magazines, I've been appropriately dosed with pain killers, anti-inflammatories, and I have my Diet Sprite....I'm good..........until....yes.....oh my gosh, did I drink that much?!!?!? I finally figure out it is all the IV fluids they gave me....I was certain I had not drunk the entire Indian Ocean....but it sure felt like it. Anyway, we all know the drill. What a night this will be.