What the Future Holds
Today I was having a conversation about my knee ordeal and the person I was talking to asked me something that no one has asked me before.
"Are you going to have any long-term problems with your knee?"
I had been relaying my surgery stories without difficulty, but for whatever reason, this question just stopped me. My throat got tight and started burning. The tears were welling up. I had to take a minute to compose myself.
I've been told that I already have arthritis in my knee and that it is likely I'll need a total knee replacement at some point down the road. There has been a lot of trauma to this knee of mine. I embarked on the ACL journey years ago in hopes of avoiding arthritis and knee replacement. No one can say for sure what the future will bring of course, but when I think about what I could be like 20 years from now, it makes me very upset.
Since the stitches have been out, I've been wearing my immobilizer and following instructions. The post-surgical soreness has definitely set in. My tibia is sore and even my skin around my knee feels different, sensitive. I still have quite a bit of swelling so I'm spending the afternoon with my leg elevated. I'm taking it easy. You would think, after going through two previous surgeries, I would remember that it's never as simple as it seems it will be. The recuperation always takes longer than you expect it to take. Frankly, I'm impatient. I'm missing out on swimming with my girls and they can tell you that it's no fun at all, having a Mommy who can't do much of anything during their summer vacation.
Tomorrow, the immobilizer is gone and I'll be figuring out how to get my muscles to walk normally again. I imagine it will take a couple days to loosen things up and start walking normally again.
It's going to be weeks before I'll be able to take this knee out for a test run and exercise and get active again. Only time will tell whether or not things will get back to some semblance of normal or not. My fingers are crossed and I'm hoping for the best. It's the prospect of more knee business in the future that lingers always.
The Unveiling of the Leg. . .
This morning I arrived at my plastic surgeon's office with my entourage. Because the staff in his office don't wear uniforms, I was surprised when the woman who took me to my room started unwrapping my leg. I was about to tell her "hands off woman," when I realized that she was a nurse. She helped me unstrap the immobilizer, took off the ace bandage and then started cutting away layers of gauze. Finally, only once small piece of gauze remained over top of the incision area. I held my breath.
She slowly pulled it back and away and what was left underneath was nothing like what I expected. . .
I exhaled and choked back tears. My leg looks normal again.
The scars from the previous two surgeries are completely gone. The scar and all that crazy discolored skin, blood vessels so easily seen before right through the skin. . . gone. Instead, one half moon shaped incision line, thin and tight. The only bruising that remains was one the size of a pinky fingertip pad, right near the incision. When I tentatively touched the area, it didn't even hurt. The best part? The tissue there actually bounced back. You can't feel the bone anymore. For the first time, in two and a half years, the skin around that area doesn't hurt when touched.
I sat there in disbelief as my girls leaned over and admired my new leg. "Wow Mommy, your leg looks so much better!" they both said. I couldn't help holding up my right leg and making the comparison. They're now almost exactly the same.
My surgeon came in then and went through the dirty details of the surgery as he carefully took out the stitches. It pinched a bit (getting stitches out is always my least favorite part of the whole ordeal), but it was nothing major. He then placed some steri-strips over the incision and wrapped my leg up again in gauze wrap and tape. He wants me to keep a little compression on it for another week. The immobilizer needs to stick around through Friday. But I can start showering normally now. I can start FEELING normal now.
He discussed with me the importance of not doing any exercising for the next couple of weeks. The hole left in my tibia is substantial and it needs time to heal and close. I have a much greater risk right now of breaking my leg if I'm not careful.
I go back to see him in a month and I'll see my orthopedic surgeon in a couple of weeks. He's going to be surprised too I'll bet. I was expecting better; I wasn't expecting this good.
My plastic surgeon also told me he'll do whatever he can to help me get compensated for the alloderm. It was simply not an option to not use it and clearly it is doing what it's supposed to do. It's working and it's absolutely wonderful.
I am hoping this is the final chapter of this almost three-year ordeal. I still can't believe it.
Crazy Jacuzzi Baths & Unveiling Eve
This last week has not been an easy one. Mr. BBM ended up taking three days off of work instead of one. I simply wasn't able to get out of bed for the first two days much at all. There was a lot more pain and discomfort than I thought I was going to have. The third day wasn't much better. However, despite my surgeon's recommendation to not exercise at all for the next six weeks, I found a necessary way to get a work out anyway.
Not trusting saran wrap and tape to keep my bandages clean and dry in a shower, I decided it would be best if I bathed in the jacuzzi tub with my leg elevated above all the soap and water. Lil C helped me gather all the necessary soaps and wash cloths and a couple of towels. I figured it would be a piece of cake. I would be very wrong.
I undressed and sat on the edge of the tub with my foot barely resting on the opposite side of the tub. Once I had the water the right temp, I had to dip, letting my triceps carry me slowly down into the tub. It's a deep tub people. This was no small feat! Once down, it was necessary to quickly swing the leg towards the back of the tub, where I would normally sit and enjoy a nice soak. Not this time. Quickness was key.
The goal was to get my hair wet, washed, rinsed, conditioned and rinsed again underneath the spigot by the time the water got high enough to drown me. With one leg towering up above my body, I couldn't exactly sit up straight. To do so would be to risk pulling every muscle in my upper leg, and sitting on a tail bone that can't be tucked under some butt cheeks provides some serious hurt. Holy eroding tail bone pain!
So, with the hair finished and a killer ab workout of semi-holding myself up while rinsing and trying not to drown, I moved onto the body. Because staying cool is crucial when you're wrapped up like a mummy, it was necessary to shave the pits and legs so I could wear tanks and shorts and not scare people with crazy hairiness. Ladies, try hanging out on your back on a hard surface like a tub with one leg elevated high in the air, your shoulders curled up so you can see what you're doing, a razor in one hand and scared armpits all around. It was kind of like holding a pilates pose while slicing a banana over cereal or something with a steak knife.
The legs weren't much better. When you have legs that are nine miles long, trying to reach the bottom of the leg that must stay straight is no picnic.
Fast forward to getting out, because by this point, my abs are killing me, my leg is on fire and my armpits have been shaved in some strange fashion similar to Vanilla Ice's eyebrows from days gone by.
Now it's time to swing the leg back over to the shorter side of the tub and dip your butt back out of the tub with wet hands. That's all kinds of fun. Thanks to some well placed towels, this became slightly less treacherous. Once up on the side of the tub, it's time to slowly lower the still slightly orange foot into the water and hope that today's soak will make the appearance of the toe-nails look less like I have been eating cheese balls with my toes. After reaching down and using the go-go-gadget arms to scrub that foot like a crazy woman, it's time to sit back down on the towel, and swing the leg up, out and around. And nope, to your great disappointment, you're still radiating surgical orange a bit.
But still, crazy elevated leg bath accomplished.
This post serves as community service hours, helping those with crazy leg injuries survive and stay clean. It's my mission in life people.
Tomorrow morning is the big knee unveiling, and the end of crazy jacuzzi baths I hope. With the previous two
knee surgeries, my bandages have always come off a day or two after
surgery. My plastic surgeon wanted them to stay in place, bandages, ace
wrap and immobilizer until my appointment with him tomorrow. He wanted
my leg to be kept entirely straight for blood flow reasons and to avoid
stretching any healing skin. I can't help thinking though, that maybe
plastic surgeons have a little bit of a pride thing going on. They,
perhaps, like to be the ones to reveal the new and improved part. I
wonder if there are accompanying lights, music and a captive audience to go with the big unveiling.
Frankly, I am a whole lot less concerned with how it looks, than how it
will feel and function. The better appearance is just the cherry on top.
It's funny that I have lived with a screw sticking out of my leg,
something that makes most people want to put their heads between their
knees and take deep breaths, for so long, but yet I'm still concerned
about tomorrow's appointment. I think he said there will be no stitches
to take out, that it's all internal and dissolvable but the follow-up
appointment where the incision is looked at is always my least favorite
appointment. It's something I can't wait for, and at the same time
immensely dread. For whatever reason, healing incisions have the
ability to make me all kinds of squeamish. It's probably because I
wasn't closed up right last time and as I sat there on the table, I
couldn't help feeling really grossed out at that oozy looking tissue
that should have been concealed underneath my skin. I know that won't
be happening tomorrow, but I swear that on some level, I have a healthy
case of PTSD (Post Traumatic Surgery Disorder).
If it doesn't exist, it really should.
Crazy Jacuzzi Baths & Unveiling Eve
This last week has not been an easy one. Mr. BBM ended up taking three days off of work instead of one. I simply wasn't able to get out of bed for the first two days much at all. There was a lot more pain and discomfort than I thought I was going to have. The third day wasn't much better. However, despite my surgeon's recommendation to not exercise at all for the next six weeks, I found a necessary way to get a work out anyway.
Not trusting saran wrap and tape to keep my bandages clean and dry in a shower, I decided it would be best if I bathed in the jacuzzi tub with my leg elevated above all the soap and water. Lil C helped me gather all the necessary soaps and wash cloths and a couple of towels. I figured it would be a piece of cake. I would be very wrong.
I undressed and sat on the edge of the tub with my foot barely resting on the opposite side of the tub. Once I had the water the right temp, I had to dip, letting my triceps carry me slowly down into the tub. It's a deep tub people. This was no small feat! Once down, it was necessary to quickly swing the leg towards the back of the tub, where I would normally sit and enjoy a nice soak. Not this time. Quickness was key.
The goal was to get my hair wet, washed, rinsed, conditioned and rinsed again underneath the spigot by the time the water got high enough to drown me. With one leg towering up above my body, I couldn't exactly sit up straight. To do so would be to risk pulling every muscle in my upper leg, and sitting on a tail bone that can't be tucked under some butt cheeks provides some serious hurt. Holy eroding tail bone pain!
So, with the hair finished and a killer ab workout of semi-holding myself up while rinsing and trying not to drown, I moved onto the body. Because staying cool is crucial when you're wrapped up like a mummy, it was necessary to shave the pits and legs so I could wear tanks and shorts and not scare people with crazy hairiness. Ladies, try hanging out on your back on a hard surface like a tub with one leg elevated high in the air, your shoulders curled up so you can see what you're doing, a razor in one hand and scared armpits all around. It was kind of like holding a pilates pose while slicing a banana over cereal or something with a steak knife.
The legs weren't much better. When you have legs that are nine miles long, trying to reach the bottom of the leg that must stay straight is no picnic.
Fast forward to getting out, because by this point, my abs are killing me, my leg is on fire and my armpits have been shaved in some strange fashion similar to Vanilla Ice's eyebrows from days gone by.
Now it's time to swing the leg back over to the shorter side of the tub and dip your butt back out of the tub with wet hands. That's all kinds of fun. Thanks to some well placed towels, this became slightly less treacherous. Once up on the side of the tub, it's time to slowly lower the still slightly orange foot into the water and hope that today's soak will make the appearance of the toe-nails look less like I have been eating cheese balls with my toes. After reaching down and using the go-go-gadget arms to scrub that foot like a crazy woman, it's time to sit back down on the towel, and swing the leg up, out and around. And nope, to your great disappointment, you're still radiating surgical orange a bit.
But still, crazy elevated leg bath accomplished.
This post serves as community service hours, helping those with crazy leg injuries survive and stay clean. It's my mission in life people.
Tomorrow morning is the big knee unveiling, and the end of crazy jacuzzi baths I hope. With the previous two
knee surgeries, my bandages have always come off a day or two after
surgery. My plastic surgeon wanted them to stay in place, bandages, ace
wrap and immobilizer until my appointment with him tomorrow. He wanted
my leg to be kept entirely straight for blood flow reasons and to avoid
stretching any healing skin. I can't help thinking though, that maybe
plastic surgeons have a little bit of a pride thing going on. They,
perhaps, like to be the ones to reveal the new and improved part. I
wonder if there are accompanying lights, music and a captive audience to go with the big unveiling.
Frankly, I am a whole lot less concerned with how it looks, than how it
will feel and function. The better appearance is just the cherry on top.
It's funny that I have lived with a screw sticking out of my leg,
something that makes most people want to put their heads between their
knees and take deep breaths, for so long, but yet I'm still concerned
about tomorrow's appointment. I think he said there will be no stitches
to take out, that it's all internal and dissolvable but the follow-up
appointment where the incision is looked at is always my least favorite
appointment. It's something I can't wait for, and at the same time
immensely dread. For whatever reason, healing incisions have the
ability to make me all kinds of squeamish. It's probably because I
wasn't closed up right last time and as I sat there on the table, I
couldn't help feeling really grossed out at that oozy looking tissue
that should have been concealed underneath my skin. I know that won't
be happening tomorrow, but I swear that on some level, I have a healthy
case of PTSD (Post Traumatic Surgery Disorder).
If it doesn't exist, it really should.
Leg Claustrophobia
So I'm ace bandage wrapped from above my knee to my toes and last night, I thought I was going to go INSANE! I understand my surgeon wants compression, but a whole week of it? In this heat? On my foot? On a person who can't even stand to wear socks at night?
When my two toes started going numb, I asked Mr. BBM to loosen the lower wrap. That helped a little, but my leg is a hot mess right now. It's dressed for winter and it's 90+ degrees outside.
Needless to say, I had a very rough night last night. Mr. BBM almost made me pee my pants laughing this morning. He said, "isn't bone pain more of a dull ache?" Um, no, more like hot poker stabbing through my leg pain. Yeah, that fits a lot better.
Today I decided that a bath would feel great. Plus, I wanted to get this orange crap off of me. Why do surgeons feel the need to coat your toenails in orange crap when they're operating near the knee? I swear it will never come off. Plus, it's not exactly easy to wash it off by yourself when you're not allowed to bend your leg at all. My arms are pretty long but my legs are even longer. I spent 10 minutes having Lil C grab various soaps and wash cloths and towels to put them within my reach and then another 10 minutes figuring out how to do this without drowning myself. I ended up lowering myself into the jacuzzi tub backwards with my leg propped up on the back wall of the tub. It wasn't fun or comfortable but I'm a bit less fake-baked looking and my hair is washed. That's an improvement.
I'm still having a lot of pain today, but when I hit the vicodin/ibuprofen loop thing just right, it seems to help. Elevation is key. If I could just move around without jarring my leg and while holding it up in the air, I'd be fine. . . which explains why I pretty much don't leave my bed.
I'm taking advantage of this time to catch up on Food network shows, which is sort of cruel and unusual punishment for yourself when you can't even get up and cook anything. Hopefully, my exile to the bedroom will end within the next day or two. I'm not a hang out and do nothing type of gal.
In the back of my head is this crazy kid desire to unwrap my whole leg and see what it looks like. I can't believe I have to wait until Tuesday. I'm hoping the big reveal isn't disappointing. I don't want to go from Franken-knee to Crater-knee. Here's hoping that the alloderm is worth the money and doing its thing under my winter-esque bandages.
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