The Leg Unveiled for Real this Time
Here's the funny thing. . . I have walked around for years with a screw protruding from my bone and it hasn't ever made me feel queasy or grossed out. Sure, it was gross and disgusting, but I guess I just looked at it as part of me, AND couple that with the fact that it came out gradually over time, I guess I just got used to it. This from the girl who used to be grossed out by everything.
Then you become a Mom and part of your mission in life becomes making sure your baby's noses are clear of any and all booger material and the whole gross-out tolerance rises to an entirely new level. You change a couple diapers, deal with post childbirth grossness and you just evolve and deal with it. No one else is going to come to your aid while you're hanging out on the cold tile floor trying to regain consciousness when your baby is crying and needs to be fed. Grossness becomes you.
However, there is one thing that I still can't handle no matter what: incisions. Blech. I just shivered from the top of my head down to my toes. I hate looking at them, can't stand steri-strips (because I know what's underneath them), and dried blood is just nasty. Over the weekend, I changed the steri-strips because they were driving me insane and peeling up. I broke out in an instant sweat on my scalp and straight down the center of my back. I thought I was going to pass out.
Yesterday, I was able to stop wrapping my leg and the center steri-strip, the one I left go the other day for fear of seriously passing out, had to come off and get replaced. I knew I had to clean the incision with some alcohol and just deal with life, but I did it from the comfort of my bathroom floor because I was afraid I would be hitting the floor with my face first if I didn't.I can't imagine you retain break fall knowledge when unconscious. I'll just assume I won't.
So, finally, I can reveal to you the new and on-its-way to being improved leg. . .
Gone is the crater and the stretched out scar. What remains is just a line, a dried bloody line (excuse me while I take a moment and insert my ears between my knees for a second). . .
Whew. . . ok, back.
I would guesstimate that my flexion is better today. I was able to hang out on the side of my bed this morning and touch my heel to the bed this time without too much agony. Getting much beyond that right now is tough, but I'm working through the pain, which has pretty much been my life for 2.5 years now.
Mr. BBM made the mistake of zooming in on the above picture to make sure it was in focus and showed me the result. "Extreme close-up!" he said and I instantly broke out into a serious sweat all over again, and had to get horizontal for a minute.
The bottom of the scar looks great. The top is a little yucky still but I'm hoping it will eventually close up and feel ok. It's weird to have a cushion there where one didn't exist before. It's a bit bruised and still uncomfortable, in places where I didn't even imagine I'd be uncomfortable, like on the other side of my tibia where I am uber-sore; but I'm getting there. I'm really getting there (if I can just manage to not look at it until it's completely healed and not gross-out worthy).
BlogHer10 BBM Orientation
I was a nervous wreck about going to BlogHer this weekend. Then I started getting comments and emails and tweets from people I haven't met yet who are also going. It has helped to ease my mind immensely. But there are always a couple things that still make me nervous, especially when you consider who I am and what I write about.
First, I teach English and Communications classes as an adjunct. Frequently, when someone first meets you and finds out you have a degree in English, they will pull a random three-word quote out of the air from some obscure piece of literature and start quizzing you, Jeopardy style, on exactly who said that when and to whom. Let me save you the trouble. . . I'll likely not know it. You see, I have quotation anxiety. When I was going to school at Pitt, I took a class called "Bible as Literature." We had two tests the entire semester and read the entire bible during the course of one long and painful semester. The midterm was brutal and I didn't do well at all, despite the fact that I had studied endlessly. The final wasn't much better. In fact, every random biblical quote that my professor had pulled from the Bible, I got wrong. You were supposed to say who said it or what it was referring to and place the book in the bible. When I got my final back, I was horrified. Never had I seen such a large amount of merciless red ink. I knew I had failed and worse yet, had probably failed the course too. And then I flipped to the back page. My professor wrote me a personal note. It said something to the effect of: "You got every quotation wrong. However, it is blatantly obvious that you studied very hard for this exam. So, how about a C-." I was never so happy.
Of course, if you come up to me and ask me random "Twilight" trivia, I will probably know it. Ask my neighbor. I won her a bottle of wine and myself a magazine subscription. I'm not exactly proud of this, but it's a fact. It is what it is. And just so we're clear, I'm Team Edward.
Second, as a martial artist, you are frequently subjected to the English teacher line of questioning, but instead make it about self defense. For example, a random person will walk up to you and say, "So you're a martial artist, huh?" and then proceed to throw a slow mock-punch at you (if they're kind-sometimes they come at you much more quickly) and see what you do. But being a martial artist isn't about being the party trick girl. It's about self defense. So, at BlogHer, you shouldn't expect me to start throwing people around to demonstrate my knowledge. And please, no random punches.
Third, people should know that while I'm pretty good at remembering a face, I can't remember names well at all. I will probably spend much of the two day conference staring at your name tag from afar even if we've already talked for like two hours. I'm not trying to ogle you; I'm just trying to figure out who you are already. And if you happen to resemble someone I already know, I will probably call you the name of the person I know. Just ask my former student Diana. . . I mean, Erin.
Finally, you should also know that if I'm standing and talking to you, I might start to look uncomfortable. It's not you; it's my knee and I may just need to sit down. The leg is not 100% and I will frequently be choosing to sit over standing( and unfortunately over dancing despite the fact that I'm practically a dancing queen). If I happen to sit on the floor and you see me there for a while, it may be because I'm having trouble getting up. If my leg is feeling particularly cranky, I'm kind of like that "I've fallen and I can't get up" lady from years gone by. So, help a girl out; we'll be instant friends.
I am starting to get really excited about meeting so many cool people and learning so many new things. In just two days, this Black Belt Mama will be NYC-bound. I can't wait!
For Those Who Will Meet Me Soon Enough
Filed under: ACL Hell, BlogHer 2010, Mental Strain for Mama
For the first time ever, I am attending BlogHer in New York City this coming weekend. I bought my ticket as soon as they went on sale and we booked our hotel room quickly too. I was super excited about going, and then life got in the way and I put it on the back burner. My Grammom got sick and passed away. Then this knee business started again. . .
Mr. BBM kept asking me before my surgery on July 20th, if I was excited to go. "No," I told him. I simply couldn't think about or concentrate on anything other than getting through my surgery and recovery. To be honest, I'm nowhere near finished worrying about the recovery part yet. Walking after being in an immobilizer for so many days isn't exactly a piece of cake right now. I'm hoping the only forms of transportation in the hotel and around BlogHer are elevators and escalators. Because otherwise. . . well, you don't want to be behind me going up or down the stairs right now, especially if you're in a hurry. Imagine your 1-year old when they're learning to navigate the stairs. That's me. I also kind of limp and walk funny right now. You would too if you had a hole in your bone.
By the time the conference rolls around this week, I'll be able to stop wrapping my leg up in gauze, but the steri-strips will probably still be there. They're nasty. There's dried blood and pen marks underneath them. It's not exactly the first impression I want to make. I thought about wrapping my obi around my incision. I mean, I am "Black Belt Mama" and all, but somehow I'm thinking that obi's are meant for the dojo, not for blogging conferences. I'm also thinking that keeping it wrapped in gauze to hide the steri-strip excitement is a major fashion faux-pas, and who wants to wear pants in August?
People who might meet me this weekend should also know this. On Friday night, I sat outside for hours and have like five mosquito bites right by my left temple. It's so flattering, and the stupid bug couldn't have sucked the right side of my face where my hair covers. No, definitely go for the side where I always push my hair back behind my ear. Because of the way my body reacts to mosquitos, I'll probably be scabbed and diseased looking by Thursday, so people who are about to meet me are in for some serious fun.
Oh, and thanks to some weekend virus that came to haunt me, I've lost five pounds. Most people would be happy about this, but I believe that the entirety of those five pounds came straight from my atrophied hamstring and quad muscles. In other words, I'm not even symetrical.
In addition and thanks to my whole "have to get through surgery" attitude, I didn't realize that when you attend the conference, that doesn't mean you're signed up for the parties. I am waitlisted on all of them, and at this point, I'm not exactly hopeful that I'll be breaking into any of them. I told Mr. BBM, who is tagging along with me to explore the city while I attend the conference, that we may be having some quiet nights alone while there.
Then again, maybe I'll throw a private "Black Belt Blogger" party. If you can't attend the parties, make your own right? I just need to get out of this mental funk and enter the conference with an open mind. Those who know me in real life probably have a hard time believing I'd have anxiety about entering a conference of 2400 people without really knowing anyone there. But I'll admit, I'm a little bit intimidated.
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.
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.
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