A Long and Winding Road

I am writing this blog entry at the end of my third day post-surgery. The surgery itself went well. The surgeon rebuilt my ACL with one from a donor. The meniscus was partially stitched, and the parts that could not be stitched were removed. The surgeon told my husband that the surgery went well.

I plan on chronicling my recovery in the hope that it may help others who will have to experience reconstructive knee surgery. It was sometimes frustrating to know that I worked hard for seven weeks to rehabilitate the MCL, only to be pushed back to square one on surgery day. That frustration was well worth it, when the surgeon looked inside my knee. The MCL is healed, albeit still a bit loose, but so much stronger and stable than when the injury first occurred. The hours in the gym and pool brought me to this point, when I begin my recovery in earnest.

Some folks have an easy time with anesthesia. My husband and my father awake feeling refreshed, as if they have had a nice, long nap. I am not that fortunate. I awake slowly from general anesthesia. I have the feeling that I should be waking up, but I cannot, and it leaves me feeling panicked. We arrived at the hospital at 8:30 in the morning, and we didn't leave until 7:00 in the evening. My husband still did not feel that I was ready to travel the half-hour to get home, but I wanted to go between doses of pain medication. It wasn't until 2:00 AM that I felt really awake from the anesthesia.

Everything I'd read about this surgery indicated that the first 48 hours are quite difficult. I'd say that was accurate. The first day, I made the mistake of trying to be tougher than I really am. I went too long between taking my pain medications, and ended up in trouble. My husband called the surgeon's nurse, who is a wonderful person, and she helped us through the trouble. I learned my lesson about taking my medication, even before I think I might need it.

The second day post-surgery was the day of my uncle's funeral. I so wanted to attend, but it was obvious that it was too soon for me to try to go. I did not want people to have to focus worry on me rather than my aunt and her family. My daughter and her boyfriend came and went in my place. My brother and his wife were also here, and my brother did the readings for the service. My mother said several people noticed my absence and asked about me, but they were very understanding when told that I'd had knee reconstruction two days before.

Today, I slept in and generally took things a bit easier still. I went the entire day without an hour of "the shakes" and uncontrolled pain. My daughter and her boyfriend were still here. We had a lazy day, watching baseball, and visiting. I have been able to shower yesterday and today, which helps me feel better. My husband says that I'm not seeing how much I've already improved, but he has noticed. We changed the dressings on the incisions, and the knee looks very good. There is little bruising and the swelling is noticeably diminished.

Tomorrow, I have my first post-op physical therapy session. I know that it will be somewhat uncomfortable, but I am willing to work through whatever discomfort is needed. My husband will be with me throughout the week to take me to my appointments, and I know he will do his best to keep me comfortable in transit. The joint in my brace will be unlocked, and I will continue to do the exercises I've been assigned.

As for the food choices, I knew it would be a giant step backwards, and it has. I have to eat every four hours before taking my narcotics, and frankly cinnamon-sugar toast has been the food of choice. It keeps the nausea at bay, and it is easy to make in the middle of the night when I need to take meds. I am working hard at letting this time go without beating myself up about it. I knew it was going to happen. I am willing to get back into my new lifestyle routine as quickly as I can. It is a challenge to know that I will undoubtedly put on some of my lost pounds, but I am committed to not letting myself slide indefinitely back into old habits.

Blogging throughout the process is one way of holding myself accountable. The progress I've made thusfar should not be totally reversed, and my recovery will be the better because of it.

The Summer Project

Each summer I look for a project to keep myself occupied. This has been a theme for me since my nest emptied 6 years ago. I was very involved in my children's lives, and I found myself a bit lost when they went off to college. Six years ago, I decided to reawaken my interests in art, knitting and spinning; which had been on the back shelf for awhile. Each summer since, I've undertaken some sort of extensive art or knitting projects.

This summer is different. This summer, I decided my project will be me. Although weight has been an issue for me since I started having babies in 1983, I'm really starting to feel the effects of all this extra poundage. I am having trouble doing the things I want and like to do, physically. This is simply unacceptable to me. For the first time in my life, I feel the burden of this weight, and notice that it is causing me to change the way I live my life.

And so, on the first day of my summer vacation, I weighed myself and started keeping track of the things I was placing into my body.

I purchased a couple of weight-loss books for my Kindle, and read them. I found the books motivational, and I started doing a few exercises as well. One of the books I purchased was the Spark, which introduced me to a website.

That was three days ago. I reluctantly decided to set foot on the scale to see if I could get a starting point for myself on that website. I was shocked!!! In 16 days, I seemed to have misplaced 15 pounds! I stepped on the darned thing again today and was doubly shocked to discover another 4 were gone!

Now, I haven't just fallen off the old turnip truck here, and I know that this dramatic weight loss will come to a screeching halt, or at least slow-down. But, I had a surprising reaction to this news today. While I was squinting and staring at the needle on the scale, wiggling to and fro to see if it was somehow hung up, I felt a twinge of panic. Holy cow! This is really happening! NOW WHAT?!?!?! I'm not sure I would know how to be a thin person! This massive layer of fat seems to be a protective suit for me. Once I self-talked myself into believing I could adjust to a thinner body, I noticed another dark feeling lurking around the corner. I'm very used to failing when it comes to my weight. And there it was, Failure, peeking around the corner of the bathroom door. Well, I picked up my hairbrush and chased that badboy down the hall. But I know he still is lurking in my subconscious, and I'll have to keep an eye on him.

I am anxious about the next two weeks. I will be going to visit my children next week for a few days. They like to take me to their favorite eating joints when I'm there for a visit. I've already given them a heads-up that Mom will be foregoing the infamous "Bucket of Tots" with cheese sauce this trip and may be looking for those weird veg-e-table thingies. When I get back from visiting my kids, I will have a boatload of family in town for a week. That means eating at my parents' house, taking my guests to their favorite burger joint (a must, every time they visit), ballgames, and night-time popcorn over board games. It will be a test, to be sure.