Slept the best I have since getting home from the surgery – yay!
Zipped around in the morning doing some straightening here and there, felt rather pleased with my level of activity.
Icing and stretches – check.
Walked around the house again for a bit. No problem!
Skipped the lunchtime pain meds. Regrets will come.
More icing and stretches. Definitely feeling it. Pretty sure that my leg is just one gigantic bruise at this point.
Did some reading, some watching, Duo Lingo lessons, listened to podcasts.
Late afternoon pain pill. Might be too late to make a difference. I have learned an important lesson.
Feeling groggy with weariness by suppertime. Our son stopped by to join us, which was cheery.
Made a half-hearted attempt to do a few more revolutions around the house, but found myself drawn to the couch as if by a magnet. Tomorrow will be better, I tell myself.
Our daughter sent me some little notes to open each day, which has been a lot of fun. Today’s was a limerick she wrote:
A friend of mine known for misplacement Once got a knee replacement A couple years after She found, with much laughter, She’d left her old knee in the basement.
Whoo – glad to be off the narcotics! It’s just me and extra-strength Tylenol now. I have one normal sized leg and one that looks like an elephant’s leg, which is awkward. Icing is supposed to help, as well as a drug that is supposed to reduce swelling and inflammation. This all takes time, so I am praying for the grace of patience.
I read the post-surgery instructions with more attention to detail today and discovered that I’m supposed to be using the walker without limping. Good to know! Was I limping? Maybe, but now I am making a conscious effort not to. I’ve been around the house so many times that I am in all likelihood making permanent ruts in the carpet.
I also discovered some stretches I hadn’t seen before that I have to start now before going to physical therapy. These are ouchy stretches, but I have a feeling that much more of that will be coming, so I’d better get used to it. It’s all moving toward the right end: a well-functioning new knee!
Oh, and did I mention that I had so much energy today that I did some sweeping and mopping? Full disclosure: I had some robotic help.
I am encouraged to know that each day will be better than the previous one in terms of recovery.
The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is Thy faithfulness.
I’ll ask Jeeves to sweep and mop this one in the morning.
In the original Star Trek series, there’s an episode in which Spock does a mind meld with a rock-like creature to communicate with it. Upon getting in touch with its consciousness, Spock cries out “PAIN!” It’s very dramatic.
Last night, the pain block for my knee finally dissipated and I had a similar moment. But I knew this was going to happen and had some tools (ice machine, opioids) to deal with it, so the night wasn’t a ghastly as it could have been. I’ve been in the wilderness of pain before and Jesus always meets me there. I was not alone.
I found out during the day the cost of using those tools, particularly the heavy duty pain pills. I was in a stupor most of the day, unable to stay awake for long. Ugh! I guess it’s a trade-off, but I came to the conclusion that I need to get out from under that cloud. We’ll see how tonight goes! In spite of the stupor, I made about 30 revolutions around the house today, which feels like progress. I conquered the stairs last night.
According to my husband, I also had a cat scan today. Good old Luna!
I ordered a stack of books from the library to keep me company during my convalescence, although the one on top was a gift from my daughter.
Lest you fear that this TKR feature will last for weeks, I’m only going to share my experiences from this first week. Hopefully after that, I’ll get back to my usual blog business. Thanks for sticking with me!
I’ll probably do a total blog replacement in the morning.
I read a book once called Dr. Mutter’s Marvels about the development of anesthesia for surgeries. It was quite fascinating, partly because much of the medical community was dead set against it. I’m so glad that Dr. Mutter won the day. I lump the development and use of pain pills in with that as well. Many people told me before the surgery to stay ahead of the pain by taking the pills on schedule, rather than waiting for pain to get bad first. Good advice so far.
Here’s how it went last night:
Me: Let’s sequester Luna in the craft/laundry room area so she won’t be jumping all over my temporary bed on the main floor.
Luna: I know you’re out there and I will spend the whole night making you regret that decision with loud meowing and complaining.
Luna won that battle; she’ll be given free rein tonight. Other than that, I think I slept here and there. I tried out the borrowed ice machine and it was a thing of beauty. My excellent nurse came in at 3:00 a.m. to give me the next dose of pain pills and change out the thawed water bottles in the ice machine for frozen ones.
Today was all about staying the course with all the various meds and keeping my leg up and extended. They fill you with horror stories about what happens if you don’t extend your leg enough the first two weeks and it involves undergoing surgery again to fix your sorry mistakes.
Flowers from our church – very cheering!
How about a few commonplace quotes to round out the day?
Faith has cause to take courage from our very afflictions; the devil is but a whetstone to sharpen the faith and patience of the saints. Samuel Rutherford
There is an affliction upon you and that is grievous, but there is a murmuring heart within and that is more grievous. Oh, that we could but convince men and women that murmuring spirit is a greater evil than any affliction, whatever the affliction! Jeremiah Burroughs
Love requires sacrifice. If we never sacrifice, we never learn to love deeply. Elisabeth Elliot
We often treat Jesus the way Saul treated David. We want him to slay giants and sing evil spirits away, but we don’t want him to be King. A.W. Tozer
God says “no” to make room for a better “yes.” Douglas Wilson
I’d run across something on YouTube that talked about red light therapy (AKA low-level light therapy). I consulted with Dr. Google to learn more. RLT is touted to work on a cellular level to reduce inflammation to help with:
Joint pain relief Nerve pain relief Wound healing Hair Loss Brain and mental health Anti-aging effect on the skin Weight loss Tendinopathy Knee osteoarthritis Plantar fasciitis pain Chronic low back pain Fibromyalgia pain
Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? I did a search to see if anybody in our fair town featured red light therapy and found one place. This will probably be absurdly expensive, I thought to myself, but I called to inquire. “It’s $10 for one hour,” the receptionist told me. Only ten bucks? Sign me up!
I brought some books to read figuring there wouldn’t be much else to do during my hour of RLT. The receptionist showed me into the private room and showed me how to turn the light on, telling me that I could leave before the hour was up, but it cost $10 no matter what. For only $5 more you could also turn on the sauna which is supposed to help. I declined. See my previous post about being frugal.
I settled into the little room, put my books on the bench next to me and turned on the light. GAH!!!! My eyes! I felt like Gollum encountering the sun after living under a mountain for hundreds of years. “It’s too bright, precious!” Sitting there for an hour suddenly seemed very daunting, but I’m no quitter. I would be paying for one hour, I will sit here for one hour in my shorts and tank top to get maximum exposure to these healing rays.
I tried reading for a while, but it was dreadfully difficult to concentrate while under the piercing gaze of those lights. I think I would have confessed to just about anything, if asked. Normally you think of basking in the light, but this was more like baking. As the time went on I got really hot. I became obsessed with the idea that the receptionist had forgotten that I didn’t want the sauna on. “She turned it on by accident, that’s what happened,” I was muttering.
To succor myself, I sang all four stanzas of the the hymn “Rise Again Ye Lion Hearted,” which we had recently memorized. “Mid the lion’s roaring, songs of praise outpouring. Joyously they take their stand, on th’arena’s bloody sand.” I felt rather sheepish complaining about the glare and heat of the red light lamps while singing about the martyrs and their brave deaths in the coliseum. Also, I fervently hoped that no one could hear me singing.
Weirdly, after I finished singing, some sort of radio came on in the RLT room. I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off and was unreasonably irritated by it. In fact, I was so hot I was unreasonably irritated by everything. I popped out of the room a couple times to cool off. The RLT room was a small glassed-walled room inside another room, so I still had my privacy.
The minutes seemed elongated, like some strange effect of the light. At last, the time was over. I got dressed (you don’t think I’m going to wander around town in shorts and a tank top at my age, do you?) and went out to pay the receptionist and ask about the sauna and the music. No, she hadn’t turned on the sauna. No, she hadn’t turned on the music. Hmmm.
Would I do it again? Absolutely! But not too soon. I don’t know if you can really get the effects from one hour of exposure, but I could see doing it 2-3 times a month. Next time I’ll know what to expect. And so will you.
I’ll probably expose this post to RLT in the morning. Maybe it will help.
It’s hard to put out content when I’m having trouble with my arm, so I’m going to post just a photo or two from the dead photo file each day for a bit. Let the photos tell you things while i rest my arm. Prayers appreciated!
Lynniebeemuseoday 