Kneecaps and Knitting
My physical therapist did his pre-surgeon visit evaluation on me today in advance of my Friday appointment. Friday is supposed to me my big release day, when I get told I have no restrictions. It’s not going to happen. Extension is great; flexion is equally fabulous at around 150 degrees. The only problem is this nagging pain I’m still having surrounding my lowest incision area near the tibia.
It’s been bothering me for three-four weeks now and it’s not getting better despite me backing off squats, lunges, and other stressing exercises. I’ve heard nightmare stories about a screw coming loose and although I’ve got several of those in my head that I can tolerate, one in the knee is not at all desirable. My PT does not think that’s my problem, although he said they’ll x-ray it on Friday to rule that out. I asked him if he thought I could have a tibial stress fracture and he doesn’t think that’s it either. So much for google diagnosis.
He pulled on my leg to test my ACL and my ACL is solid. There is no doubt about it. He also tested my leg strength. My hamstrings are stellar, but the quad muscle is still lagging behind. Because of this, my PT thinks that my problem with the knee is my kneecap.
Today, he taped it and had me run through my exercises (avoiding those that have really been hurting) and I think it helped a bit. I’m leaving the tape on until I go to bed tonight to see if it helps with going up and down the stairs. Although the pain is still there, it does seem to be a bit more dull. Perhaps it’s just tape toxins leaking into my system that are making me feel better. Who knows at this point?
My PT also said that maybe I just need to be on an anti-inflammatory for a little while to get the last of the swelling and irritation out. Right now, I’d like a magic wand to make it all go away.
I’m thinking my good friend Adam would like the same thing right about now, since he has also screwed up his knee. I should start a group for injured martial artists to take up a new interest. . knitting perhaps.
Fraud Alert
We got a call from our credit card company’s fraud department tonight. When I heard the message on my voice mail, my first thought was, "I am so busted." I went on a little shopping excursion with the girls this afternoon and bought them new sandals and a couple items of clothing for vacation that turned into more than I thought I was going to buy.
Because the store is right beside Ann Taylor Loft, I took a stroll in there too, and that visit also ended up with a visit to the cash register (because when does a visit to Ann Taylor Loft not end up with a visit to the cash register for me? Hint-never). I needed a white summer sweater. If you don’t believe me, I’ve been wearing a maternity one while I searched for a new one. I haven’t been pregnant in three years. I needed a new white sweater.
The items weren’t all that expensive so I was starting to wonder if Mr. BBM put some kind of special wife-checker feature on my card or something. But that wasn’t the case.
A couple days ago, someone made a 96 cent charge to our card that went undetected. I rarely have cash in my wallet, but I don’t ever charge 96 cents But today, someone tried to charge $2700.00 to our card, which is just what you need when you’re in the process of buying a house, some insane amount of debt on your credit card.
The charge was denied due to the sizeable number and the location (It sounded like some online sports betting place). Our cards have been canceled and new ones will arrive in the mail. Unfortunately, they won’t make it here by the time we leave for vacation, so go ahead and place another check in the sucktastic column for BBM and her family.
As a warning to anyone who might be a potential victim of stolen credit, beware of small charges on your card that can signify larger problems to follow. And if you’d like to buy me something else from Ann Taylor Loft to make me and my leper arms feel better and forget about fraudulent poop-heads who try to wreck people’s lives, then please, by all means, do. I’ll take one of everything (I already have the white sweater).
Of Hockey and Karma
When I was in high school, I dated this total tool of a guy for a year. He went to a different high school, was two years older than I was, lied to me about graduating when he didn’t actually graduate, gave me a leather jacket for Christmas that had a cigarette burn on the sleeve, and cheated on me with some girl he called "Kissy." It wasn’t exactly a time in my life where I was oozing with self-esteem.
I did, however, dump him, which I consider one of my finest accomplishments. We won’t discuss that I got back together with him for a few weeks a couple summers later (also dumping him then), because I said so. Also because, if my Mom reads this she’ll relive those unfortunate days and possibly have a stroke or something.
Our summer dates were spent cruising the town in his Dodge Daytona, listening to the Fresh Prince sing "Summertime." Our winter dates consisted of watching hockey. He was a Detroit Red Wings fan. I should have known he was a loser the second he told me. My Dad certainly knew it and shared this fact with me, but I think my brain was damaged from one too many spiral perms. I had to find out for myself, and I certainly did.
I remember in vivid detail how I dumped his butt while he stood on my front porch with teary eyes. My best friend was standing behind the door enjoying every second of me telling him off. When I tossed his soccer jacket at him and shut the door, my friend and I celebrated by dancing on the coffee table to "Hate Everything About You." I’m sure my Mom wasn’t happy about the footprints we left on the table, but she never said anything because she was so relieved that I had finally gotten rid of him. I was so relieved that I wouldn’t have to hear anything else about how awesome Steve Yzerman was. He had this super annoying way of pronouncing "Yzerman" and would get in my face and say it over and over again. How I wanted that player to get his butt kicked, just to make my stupid boyfriend shut-up.
Last night, as I watched the Penguins defeat the Red Wings in a triple overtime event, I had this burning desire to call him up, and just gloat a bit. It was kind of like the battle of the past and present. The past-my icky boyfriend of days gone by versus the present-my super nice husband who loves the Pens.
Here’s hoping the "present" continues to win. How I’d love to see him and gloat, just a tiny bit. Sometimes karma takes a really long time to make things right. Go PENS!
If Poison Ivy Doesn’t Kill You, The Stress Will
This afternoon was beautiful. . . or so I heard. I spent my entire afternoon in Urgent Care, convinced that my poison ivy was not only back, but had also turned into a serious skin infection that was going to kill me momentarily. Googling images is a very bad thing to do when you have a rash.
I saw my favorite urgent care doctor and he took one look at the always expanding angry rash on the insides of my elbows, the insides of my biceps, both of my lower legs, across my stomach, and my growing-more-speckled-by-the second-neck and came to the conclusion that I needed lots and lots of drugs.
I’m back on prednisone for the poison ivy with a vengeance that just won’t quit. I was given my first large dose while in the office before I left. I’m also on a serious antibiotic because it turns out the doctor thinks I might be right about a nasty skin infection (although it probably won’t kill me momentarily).
I’m only able to say that last statement about not dying, because he also put me on some lovely drug that works as both an anti-histamine (for serious itching) and as an anti-anxiety drug. I told you people and the doctor that I was about to lose it, and I am fairly certain he believed me. He also told me to buy Tecnu and douse my clothes and self with it. He also recommended I purchase some paste stuff that starts with a Z that you rub onto your poison ivy and then rinse off. He told me it was amazing and he better be right because that 1 ounce tube cost me $39.99. I kid you not.
As of right now, the itching has subsided for the first time in days, but I can’t say the same for the exhaustion. This is one leper lady who needs some rest. Calmer writing to follow, says those little green pills.
Not There Yet
I hate to write when I’m in a mood like this, which is obviously why the posts this week have been few and far between. On Friday, Lil C got a DTaP vaccine shot, which made her arm swell and her personality much too much like mine, so that hasn’t helped things either. Plus, I still itch a lot. Hives suck.
At PT yesterday I was just miserable. My knee has been really bothering me lately. It’s sore at my lowest and largest incision area. Some days, I’ll get waves of pain just shooting through that area. Other days, it’s a dull but annoying ache that tends to stick around and intensify especially when I’m doing stairs or lowering my leg after having it propped up. I’ve been complaining to my PT about it on and off. I thought it was only on rainy days that the pain was bad, but this week it’s been nice and I’ve been having a lot of pain.
We talked about doing incision massage to break down scar tissue and I’ve done that. It hasn’t really changed anything. This week, my PT looked at me, walking miserably on the treadmill, watching others come and go while I stay and stay and work out some more, and he said, "I think you really need a break. I think your body is telling you to rest. I think you need a mental and physical break."
I think he’s right.
I left PT, got in my car and started to sob. I have cried more through this ACL ordeal than at any other time in my life and I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of always having an issue. I’m not the girl who has issues. People who always have problems get on my nerves, but I think I’m becoming one of them and that only serves to make me feel more miserable.
After my appointment with my surgeon next Friday, I am heading out for vacation. My PT told me he doesn’t want me to exercise at all. I’m supposed to completely relax and see if the knee issue resolves itself.
I wanted to be ready to go back to karate; but the truth is, I’m just not. And right now, I don’t know when I will be ready.
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
