The Knee Saga is Now a Trilogy
I don't know what I was expecting today when I went to see this new surgeon. It wasn't what I got; that's for sure. He spent over an hour with me, going over my other surgeon's notes, asking me questions, examining my knees (both of them) like I don't think they've ever been before. When all was said and done, it boils down to several possibilities that he wants to rule out, before he said he would even think of cutting.
First, I have an MRI tomorrow. Then I have a bone scan next week at the hospital. He's thinking a bunch of different things after examining my knee:
-possible PCL sprain
-possible stress fractures
-possible bone infection from the allograft
-some cartilage deterioration under both knee caps (this is the only one that's for sure)
We barely even addressed the issue with the screw sticking out. He said he needs all the evidence before we can move forward.
He also said that the fat atrophy issue is going to require a good plastic surgeon. Maybe I will be able to get some fat from somewhere else sucked out and put there after all.
I also have to pick a 48 hour window over the next week where I put no weight on my knee at all and go back on crutches. He wants to see how I feel after that time period and report back to him.
I left there feeling like I wanted to cry. I hated getting an MRI last time. The bone scan sounds like no fun at all and is an all day affair. First an injection of isotopes and then I'll have to go back hours later to get about 30 minutes worth of scans.
In the meantime, this new surgeon who is in my insurance network, says he's going to get the operative notes from both surgeries, and the first MRI scan, so he can see what my other surgeon did and put together all the pieces.
In the meantime, no karate, no working out, no running and he'd like me to limit the amount of walking I do.
I guess if there's one thing I'm glad about, it's that this wasn't all in my head. I definitely still have problems. Here's hoping they get fixed once and for all.
Make It Go Away
Yesterday I arrived at my surgeon's office and the receptionist asked me for my insurance card.
"Oh, when you scheduled your appointment, did they tell you that we don't take your insurance anymore?" she asked.
"No," I told her, "If they had told me that, I wouldn't have scheduled my appointment."
I looked at my card, saw the 50/50 out of network numbers and figured I was just going to go through with the appointment. I once fought my insurance company over not paying for an ultrasound because I went "out of network" after I had specifically called and asked them where I could go and they told me that place. I could fight this one too.
I'm nothing if not a fighter.
A familiar face took two x-rays of my knee. It was like deja vous. This is number three.
I sat in the room waiting for my surgeon, staring at the computer screen with the picture of my knee on it, trying to figure things out myself. I don't know what I thought I was going to figure out. It's pretty obvious when there is a screw protruding from your tibia so much so that you can feel it through your skin.
My surgeon came in and held out his hands, a gesture that said, "What are you doing here?" and I pulled up my pant leg. (See that yellowish spot to the direct right of the dark purple part? That's the screw.)
He spent some time poking around at it, moving my skin around, something that makes most people want to put their head between their knees and say "stop it before I pass out."
He said what I knew he was already going to say. I need more surgery. This time, he says he will remove more of the screw. I asked him why he can't just take the whole thing out and he said he can't. Part of it has turned into bone in the middle of my tibia. The part sticking out has not.
The weird indentation I have in my leg is due to "fat atrophy," probably a side effect from the cortisone shot he gave me a while ago, back when I kept complaining I was in pain and he thought it might have just been from an abundance of scar tissue, not from the screw sheath sticking out which only became obvious after the months of swelling had gone down. Because of this fat atrophy, my body is literally skin and bones at that part of my leg. I have no cushion and that my friends, is no fun.
He talked about excising some tissue and pulling the skin over when he closes me back up so that this problem will hopefully go away. I asked him why he couldn't just take some fat from my butt, thighs or stomach and he said it doesn't work that way. Truth be told, it should work that way. That would be sweet.
As we wrapped up our conversation, I told him that his office no longer takes my insurance. He said he would call me next week, after they talked to my insurance company, to let me know how much it would cost me. I can already tell you the likely answer: too much.
I asked him about a "buy two, get one free" special, but unfortunately, surgeons are not shoe stores.
I called Mr. BBM and put him on the insurance questions I had. Which surgeons do take my insurance? Does the hospital and surgi-center take my insurance? They both do, so the out-of-pocket costs for me come with my surgeon's fees. Last surgery, I believe it cost me about $100 per minute, which is probably a drop in the bucket for a surgeon. Unfortunately, that's not the case for me.
Not to mention, I have already spent thousands of dollars on co-pays, surgical costs, appointments and physical therapy. This has been almost three years of expenses for me. As soon as I get one paid off, I've had to go back for more surgery.
I came home and Mr. BBM encouraged me to call a different surgeon. A couple months ago, I ran into my old high school athletic trainer. He is still at the school and is a wonderful guy. I worked for him as an athletic trainer my senior year and loved it. He asked me how I was and I embarked on my ACL saga. I asked him which surgeon he recommends if a student athlete tears their ACL. He gave me a name and that's who I called yesterday afternoon.
My trainer had told me it might take me weeks or even months to get in with him, so he told me to mention his name. I did and I have an appointment on Wednesday.
I am torn though. I have a real comfort level with my current surgeon. While some of my friends and family think I should see someone else, I don't know what to think. My surgeon has a personality, one that I get along with quite well. I feel like he's always been straight-forward with me and that he has my best interests in mind. However, I'm also on my third surgery now for what should have been finished, once and done, back in December of 2007. I don't know what to think. Am I part of the 3% that has a problem with the bioscrew? Am I part of the small minority that will have an unfortunate reaction to a cortisone shot?
I don't know.
The way I see it, Wednesday's appointment will be a fact finding mission. I will gather as much information as I can this week so that I can make an educated decision about who I want to do the surgery and when. When my current surgeon calls me with the fees he would charge, I have a feeling the decision will be more obvious.
However, I don't look forward to another OR visit. I especially don't look forward to going in there with a stranger.
There is one thing I'm absolutely sure about though. I want this to be the last time; and I want this ordeal to be over.
Tech Non-Support
Last week, I noticed that my university email account was prompting me to come up with a new password.
"7 days until your password expires. Renew now?"
I watched the days tick away until it was down to one. I figured I had better get to it. Unfortunately, I was too late.
I logged onto the university website and found a tech support number for password lockout and called it. I was in the middle of helping Big I with homework and trying to get Lil C to quit whining. I was also making dinner and figured I had about 30 minutes of time before ju-jutsu to get some grading done.
I should have known better.
I described the problem to the tech support guy and he asked me to spell the name of the university where I work. I was pretty sure I had spoken clearly. I was pretty sure that if you're working as tech support for the university, then you should probably be able to spell it too.
I trudged on with the process, even after he put me on hold about 40 times. Sometimes he would have me on hold and only come back to tell me he needed to put me on hold for another two minutes. I wanted to ask him to just keep me on hold until he knew some actual information or something but I held my tongue. I figured my ordeal would soon be over.
Once again, I should have known better.
After 45 minutes of confirming my name, spelling the university name and being put on hold multiple times, the tech support guy says, "Ok, your new password has been emailed to you. You should be all set."
"Um, yeah, well there's just one little problem. . ." I said.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Which email did you send it to?" I asked him, knowing full well he only had one email address for me, the one I'm locked out of.
He read back the email address to me and I laughed.
"Yeah, you see, that's the email that I'm locked out of so it's all fine and good that you emailed me my new password, but I still can't log in to get it."
"Oh," he said. "I'm going to need to escalate this to a level 2. They'll call you."
At that point, my head almost exploded.
I went to ju-jutsu, returned hours later and I still didn't have a call.
I called a number I recognized from the actual university and got a familiar voice on the phone. Exactly two minutes later, my password was reset and I was back in my email. I learned my lesson. Local is better.
Lucky Number Three
Last night at dinner, Lil C was swinging her legs back and forth, when the very tip of her shoe hit the very spot where I'm pretty sure the screw is backing out of my tibia. It hurt lots.
Today I called my surgeon. After watching this health care bill pass, I figured I had better do it now before I have a five year wait for surgery.
The person answering the phone asked me if I had seen him before. I explained that I was pretty much a "regular" and then she asked me about my symptoms.
"Well, I can see something round and hard coming out of the incision area. I'm pretty sure it's the screw."
And that, my friends, is how you get an appointment this week.
In advance of Friday, I'm going to need to check out my schedule to see when I can fit an actual surgery into my schedule. I can't imagine my appointment will be any other way. I doubt there's a magic cream you can rub on a screw to make it disappear. Clearly, hoping and praying hasn't worked and neither has staring at it and willing it to "be gone."
I'd really like for number three to be the lucky number and for this whole knee ordeal to be over.
I can think of few things in my life that I would actually go back and change. I don't have many regrets about things. But going to karate that night, planting that foot and throwing that roundhouse kick? That's a big regret. How I wish I had been feeling guilty about not going to class that night from the comfort of my sofa at home. This ordeal has gone on entirely too long.
Here's hoping that Friday is the beginning of the end of it.
My Full Time Non-Paying Job
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
Most mornings, Lil C wakes up and packs one of her bags with snacks and toys without me even asking. Then she puts it by the door and asks when we're going to the club. It's been an almost daily occurrence. Next week, when the new sports bar is finally finished, and I can stop going to the club to rip wallpaper down, sand walls, paint, stain, put frosting on windows, lay tile, caulk seams in the floor, lay laminate flooring and deal with any other craziness that happens, Lil C won't know what to do.
I will.
There will be sleeping and long hours spent outside. There will also be clean laundry in the house that will make it to drawers for a change. Perhaps I will go grocery shopping so we can stop ordering food or eating at the club almost every night. Perhaps I will attend karate classes for a change, actually do some exercising, call my best friend, socialize with my neighbors and plan for an opening cook-out to celebrate warmer weather on the way. Maybe I will wash my hair more often. Maybe I will swap my paint clothes for some of the new things bought when I decided I needed a little retail therapy from all the stress.
Perhaps I will grade some papers in a timely fashion for my paying job. Maybe I will try to converse about something other than the club. Maybe I will get some sleep and get rid of these dark circles.
And I know, I will disconnect for a bit, from email, the internet, the phone, and all the negativity, and just relax for a very nice change.
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