2+ Year Knee Update

2 years, 3 months is a long time. Think about it. Ellin had yet to smash Tiger’s Escalade with a 9-iron. LeBron hadn’t taken his talents to South Beach. Obama thought he could “change” the country. And Snookie was a term of endearment, not a pudgy reality star.

I also had 2 holes in my kneecap and a perfectly healthy leg.

Obviously, a lot has changed since then.

So let’s begin with the obvious starting point. If I could do it all over again, would I still choose ACI? I honestly don’t know. Before going under the knife, my knee didn’t hurt THAT badly. I could sense it was about to take a turn for the worst, but it wasn’t there yet. Today, my knee doesn’t hurt at all, which is a good thing, obviously. On the flip side, the lack of pain pre-surgery also meant that I never experienced the unbridled joy of having a pain-free knee, post-surgery. So when I say my knee doesn’t hurt today, I say it with a shoulder shrug, not the fist pump of a guy who just birdied 18 to win the Masters.

Unfortunately, the surgery also produced some unexpected drawbacks, completely unrelated to my knee. I went in with one problem, and woke up with a brand-new one.
The osteotomy didn’t fully heal. My tibia remains “somewhat fractured.” (By the way, somewhat fractured is an actual medical term). While the bone didn’t fuse entirely, however, enough bits and pieces did to hold the leg together. Dr. Champine described my leg as a “poor welding job.”

Now, the screws were inserted to keep the leg intact, and the surgeon had warned me the area surrounding the screws would be sensitive. At the same time, I was assured they could be removed once the tibia fully healed, meaning I spent that first year or so biding my time until the leg healed enough to remove them.

Well, I can stop waiting; the leg never healed. So the million dollar question today for me is: Has the leg healed enough for the screws to be removed?

Champine says, “probably.” He believes – and his partner, Dr. Scheinberg, concurs – that since the leg has held up for 2+ years, it’s “probably” not going to fall apart now. Of course, patients really don’t like when doctors use the word, “probably.” I like to measure risk. Can I catch VD from that Vietnamese “masseuse”? Probably, so I’m not going to ask for the happy ending. Easy decision. So even though my current choice also involves screws, this one is a bit more complicated.

Ok, quick intermission from my knee situation:

Over Spring Break, we road-tripped to Chicago to see family. My parents still live in the same house in which I grew up. After spending the week at my childhood home, I’m not sure what seemed weirder: sleeping in my old bedroom with my wife, or the lack of Michael Jordan or Paulina Porizkova posters on the wall.

By the way, did you know Illinois leads country in vanity license plates? Even minivans have them. I actually saw a guy driving a minivan with “Peters 64” plates. Advertising that you own a minivan? I thought you were supposed to be ashamed of them.

Ok, back to my knee update:

Thus far, I’ve chosen the conservative approach and opted against undergoing the surgery to remove the screws. Maintaining the status quo. By all accounts, this surgery is minor. A few days on crutches. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of knee surgeries, so I don’t fear the recovery. But I don’t want to risk the consequences if it turns out that the screws really were holding my leg together. If so, I would need some sort of bone graft to shore up my shin. And THAT’S a big f*cking deal.

To give you an idea of what’s potentially at stake here, I have no “daily living” issues. I can walk just fine. No issues with stairs. I can bike and use the elliptical machines at the gym. I avoid impact exercises – running, squatting, jumping or explosive plyometrics – but otherwise no functional restrictions. I’m plenty capable of jogging around the soccer field with the kids, even cutting without too much difficulty during scrimmages with 9-year olds. In fairness, I’m a slow, 38-year old dad playing with third graders, and these kids aren’t Brazilian. I actually weigh a bit less than I did pre-surgery, and think I might even regain my 2-pack abs by summer if I keep up my current exercise routine. Overall, I’m pretty content.

On the other hand, the screws in my shin remain sensitive. I mean, really sensitive. A little tap on my shin will drop me to my knees quicker than a hooker looking for a quick $20. Um, not that I have any idea what the going rate is for those types of things….
Until lately, the screws weren’t too big of a deal; I could tolerate them. During recent workouts, however, some of the basic leg strengthening exercises – short arc leg extensions; shuttle leg presses; even hamstring curls – have started to stress the outside of my shin. And guess what? The mere sensation that metal screws might rip through your leg like Mr. Kool Aid bursting through that brick wall is not a good feeling.

Ok, time for the Second Intermission:

Just like a strong jawline or piercing blue eyes define somebody’s face, the random shops dotting the sides of the highways provide a glimpse of state’s personality. On my Spring Break road trip, I discovered that Missouri leads the country in adult video stores and firework stands, which says a lot about the Show Me state. In fact, sometimes there were 2 adult video stores next to each other at the same rest stop -- the porn version of McDonald's and Burger King. That made me wonder -- do truck drivers comparison shop at adult video stores? Do they broadcast over their CBs, “Breaker Breaker. This is Little Bear. The Bobby’s XXX in Joplin has a wider foot fetish selection than Soft Skins.” One of the adult video stores also advertised an adjacent "men's only spa," and even used a picture of a geisha. Why not just throw up a billboard that says, "Happy Endings Available"? And, oh yeah, the local Mizzou gas station is called, Kum and Go. I'm not kidding. And you can find them next to the adult video stores.

Ok, back to the blog:

While the screws have nothing to do with my knee, I can’t truly test my knee for fear of aggravating the screws. Perhaps if the osteotomy had healed, I would have a better appreciation for how well the ACI grafts worked. But the screws prevent me from playing, for example, competitive volleyball or taking jiu-jitsu lessons, which I envisioned as the true measuring stick of a successful surgery. And that’s disappointing. Grumble, grumble.

Here are some other observations:
• My quad remains a bit weak, and I really don’t ever see it gaining full strength. Not only do the screws limit certain exercises, but the osteotomy permanently altered my mechanics, making it difficult to isolate my quad and build up the “teardrop” muscle. You can only do so many straight leg raises.

• I still have a decent amount of crepitus, but no pain associated with any of the crunching. I planned on getting my knee scoped to clean up the crunching at the same time the screws were removed, but obviously that never happened.

• Every so often I experience a twinge of weakness on the inside of my knee. It’s more like a pinch, something that creates the sensation that my knee might give out. But the knee doesn’t. I’m not sure if there’s something slightly defective with my knee, or whether that’s caused by my lack of inner/outer thigh and hip strength.

So here’s where I am 2 years, 3 months after ACI. Part of me wants to tough it out by keeping the screws. I try to convince myself removing the screws just isn’t worth risking a bone graft and the attendant lengthy recovery. But man, my screws can be aggravated as easily as a sleep deprived new parent, and I wonder how much “quality of life” can be gained if they were taken out. I still haven’t made a decision, and probably won’t until my kids’ soccer seasons end next month.

Until then, I’d love to hear from others about their knee experiences, along with updates from other ACI patients who follow my blog. In addition, I welcome any ideas or suggestions on blog topics from my “readers.”

Disney

Well, I figure it’s been long enough since my last blog post. Almost 8 months, in fact. Actually, I started writing this post over the Xmas holidays, but then I got busy lying to my kids that Santa really exists, and, before you know it, two more months slipped by. Wait, do you still believe in Santa? My bad. I guess I should’ve included a “Santa is fake” disclaimer.

I’ve passed a few milestones along the way, including the 2-year mark. I’m not really sure how to describe the past 2 years, other than to note the usual clichés: the recovery is a marathon, not a sprint; the surgery seems like it happened just yesterday; blah, blah. Eventually, I’ll post a 2-year update about my knee. And I promise I won’t wait another 8 months to do so.

But not today.

Instead, I’m going to share my recent Disney adventures. The Florida one, not the SoCal one.

Alright, let me get the usual Disney platitudes out of the way. Every story you hear about how Disney bends over backwards to accommodate visitors – especially kids – is dead-on. All of Disney’s employees were phenomenal – the hotel workers, ride operators, character helpers, the bus drivers. You name it. Even the cleaning people who didn’t speak English. Very friendly. And not fake-friendly. You know the type. The superficial syrupy-sounding people who deserve to be punched in the kidneys. These Disney people were genuine. I don’t know how they remain this friendly, day-in, day-out. After five minutes of kids tugging on my shirt, I’m pretty sure I would start playing Wack-A-Mole with anybody shorter than 3 feet tall. Honestly, I was most impressed with the girl portraying Jasmine. Not only was she smoking hot, but she never broke character, like an old school WWF wrestler. Well, except for the time when the creepy old man started groping her. That freaked out Jasmine, not to mention ruining the Disney experience for some family’s little Princess. Rough memory for a kid, right?

But I assume most Disney travelers know these tips. Therefore, this blog entry shares some observations that, perhaps, are news to you.

First, a random observation.

Disney’s bathrooms never ran out of paper towels. I’m pretty sure I visited every crapper in the park. No, I didn’t have diarrhea, just two little kids needing to piss constantly. Incredibly, there was never an empty paper towel dispenser. Never. I wonder if Disney employs a stable of Sherpas just to fetch paper towels.

Ok, now to my main observation. I’ve never seen so many f*cking fat people in one place in my life. Enough fatties to keep The Biggest Loser busy for 40 years. Holy lard asses, Batman.

Here’s another under-the-radar scoop about Disney – they lead the world in rascal scooters. All those fatties scoot around the park all day rather than trying to walk off the BonBons. Disney was like a giant bumper car park for very large people.

Now here’s the really annoying part. Call me crazy, but I thought rascals were only for non-ambulatory people. You know, the crippled; extreme elderly; or even the morbidly obese people who simply cannot walk on their own. Not at Disney. I lost count how many times some gump of sh*t scooted up to the entrance, parked their rascal, and walked onto the ride. Seriously? At first I thought Disney had some kind of magical healing power, like one of those Sunday morning revivalist churches where worshippers gets blessed, and hallelujah! they rise up and hop onto roller coasters. And get this -- these fat f*cks go straight to the front of the line!

Thankfully Disney’s “Fast Pass” limits the wait time for most rides. But picture this scene: you spend 45 minutes creeping along 2-3 feet every 15 seconds to ride Space Mountain. Like an Oasis in the middle of the Sahara, the final turnstiles appear on the horizon. You can sense Shang-ri-La. You inch closer, squeezing through the final set of gates, reaching the coveted “next rider” status. The moment of truth. Space Mountain, baby!

But as you prepare to board the coaster, you hear a wheezing puttering sound, like a 1970 Pinto desperately in need of a new muffler. “Hold on, folks,” says the ride operator. He’s smiling, of course, because all Disney employees smile more than the Joker. As you struggle to comprehend the last-second delay, the Blob dismounts from his rascal and steals your ride. Sure, it’s just 1 more ride to wait, but those 45 seconds feel more the 45 minutes you just spent in line. You want to enjoy the ride, but you’re kinda ticked about Tubby stealing your turn. And you can’t shake the fear that his 470lbs might’ve stressed Space Mountain’s brakes. Can this car handle those twists and turns? Will I go flying off the track? And why is this seat so God damn warm?

Anyway, the kids had a blast. A definite “must” vacation for families.