July 26, 2010

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.