At various points during my recovery, I’ve compared my situation to pregnancy, the elderly and newborns. Well, I’m going to add one more family analogy to the list.
Over the past 10 weeks, I’ve experienced several “firsts” -- accomplishments that made me feel like a proud papa: the first time I peed in the toilet, not the urinal bottle. My first shower, with and without the brace. My first steps without crutches. My first poop without the raised toilet seat. The first time I put on my own socks and shoes. My first shower standing up. Driving. The list goes on and on. Initially, I celebrated each “first” like I was Prince in 1999. But each successive accomplishment brought a less boisterous celebration. Now I no longer even notice, let alone cheer, my “firsts.”
And then it hit me – my experience is a lot like the second child syndrome, or the “Second Kid Shaft,” as I call it. The firstborn gets totally spoiled, right? His baby album is packed with mementos. Locks of hair from the first haircut. 12 rolls of film from the first birthday party. Designer pacifiers. The works. The second kid? Ehh, not so much. I vaguely remember saying, “Oh look. Kid #2 took her first steps. Great job, sweetie. Hey, isn’t Roadhouse on TNT now?” And that’s how I feel right now. I’m taking every new milestone for granted.
Ok, time to share my PT woes. Monday’s session was brutal. Two weeks ago Judy measured my knee flexion at 116 degrees, about where it needed to be. I asked Judy for another measurement on Monday so I could gauge my progress; I’m supposed to be at 120-125 degrees. My knee, however, wasn’t cooperating. It was stiff, like a creaky old man struggling to get off his rocker. I probably over-extended myself a bit on Sunday taking the kids to the playground and loading baseballs into the pitching machine. I wasn’t break-dancing or anything, but I did spend 2 hours straight on my feet, and perhaps that was enough.
Judy was determined to loosen up my knee. Her initial efforts, however, failed to produce the desired flexion. About 45 minutes into our session, she declared, “we’ll need to work on it some more after you finish your exercises. The flexion’s just not there, so it doesn’t make sense to measure it now.” Sounded like a good gameplan to me.
I plowed through the rest of my leg lifts and baby step-ups without incident, and then I hopped onto the bike for 10 minutes to loosen up again, before returning to the dreaded stretching table.
Judy’s expression announced her fierce determination to massage my knee to 120 degrees. Uh-oh. I felt like one of those captured Vietnam War soldiers in Missing in Action. In my middle school dreams, I was always Chuck Norris, delivering a roundhouse kick the prison camp warden. This time, however, I knew I was one of the wimpy privates groveling for mercy. I would’ve thrown the rest of my squadron under the bus if that meant saving my own skin. If you get stuck in a foxhole with me, we’re both screwed.
Prone on the table, Judy towered above me. She latched onto my ankle, slowly pushing it toward my body, gripping my thigh for increased leverage. Basically, my knee felt like an accordion. She gradually bent my leg further, until it reached a certain point where any further and I would’ve gone into shock. Unfortunately, that point wasn’t the desired 120+ degrees.
If Judy’s therapy room was the prisoner camp, this would’ve been the scene where I begged for mercy from the prison warden. Or asked Chuck to roundhouse kick Judy. Either one works. But Chuck wasn’t coming to my rescue. Instead, I was powerless as Judy tried to bust through my breaking point.
I learned something about pain, and I’m not talking about the “soreness” you get after a hard workout. This is real pain, the kind of pain that produces involuntary reactions. No matter how hard I tried, each time my knee reached a certain point I (a) lurched off the table, and (b) screamed out whatever word was on the tip of my tongue. Because I have a potty mouth, that normally meant some version of the f-bomb. Dropping f-bombs, of course, won’t endear me to Judy, and I really didn’t want to upset or offend her. After all, she was the one bending my surgically repaired knee. But despite my best breathing techniques and other Jedi-like relaxation exercises, I couldn’t control myself. It was kinda like Tourette’s Syndrome mixed with f-bombs. The obscenities were coming, rapidly and loudly.
Fortunately, I’m a relatively quick thinker. I realized that my word choice was involuntary – I’d blurt out whatever was on my mind at the precise moment the pain kicked in. So I decided to clear my mind of everything but the one word I’d scream out. I tried to pick something benign, like Dan Ackroyd did at the end of Ghostbusters. It didn’t work out exactly as planned, though the Stay Puff Marshmellow Man didn’t show up. Despite focusing intently on surfing and the ocean, I wound up screaming out various versions of the Lord’s name. They weren’t the best choices in front of a religious lady, but at least they didn’t rhyme with “brother-trucker.”
Despite Judy’s best efforts, my knee bent only 115 degrees, about where it was 2 weeks ago. Unfortunately, this was a “difficult” 115, unlike the relative ease with which I hit 116 the last time we measured. Ugh. Looks like I’ve got some more torture sessions in my future…
Showing posts with label pt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pt. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
PT Session Recap
I recently completed the equivalent of two-a-days, heading to PT on Wednesday and Thursday. Thursday started poorly, as I felt drained shortly before PT. I’m not sure why. I didn’t do much, other than heading outside for a little sun for the first time in awhile. But basking in 80-degree sunshine in a lounge chair for 10 minutes shouldn’t deplete a person’s energy. Can’t explain that one.
The PT session went well. I graduated to 2lb ankle weights, and the difference is telling. I’m almost embarrassed by my new muscles. Even extra large gym shorts can’t contain my legs.
I improved my free-standing flexion 3 degrees overnight, reaching 80 degrees. My thigh, however, suffered immensely to achieve this small gain. Dayna – one of Judy’s excellent assistants – was tasked with pinning my right thigh to the table while my gimpy knee dangled over the table edge, allowing Judy to slowly raise and lower the leg to measure my flexion. Apparently, my quads like to explode as my leg contracts, requiring Dayna to press down really hard to keep my knee immobile. Dayna might have a future as a grape crusher, as she generated enough pressure with her hands to make at least 4 bottles of wine. Her handprint remained on my thigh 24 hours later. Of course, she rightfully blames me for squirming too much (I did). Besides, the discomfort in my thigh was a welcome distraction from the soreness in my knee.
At the end of PT, I hopped onto the scale to measure how much weight I was placing on my bum wheel. I’m supposed to be at 50% of my body weight, and reach 75% before next week. For the first time since the surgery, I weighed myself. Wearing tennis shoes and workout attire, I was 152 pounds, a 6-10 pound drop from 3 weeks ago. That kind of weight loss probably would’ve kept me above the yellow line on The Biggest Loser. Of course, I also weigh less than most contestants’ elbows. Anyway, after pressing down on the scale with my right leg, I learned that I was averaging between 80-100 pounds of pressure. I need to reach 115 pounds soon. Pressing down that hard with a straight leg, however, feels unnatural. It contradicts everything you’re taught about avoiding knee injuries. Indeed, people frequently blow their knees by awkwardly landing straight-legged, snapping their ligaments like twigs. I realize that can’t (well, shouldn’t; never say can’t) happen with the brace locked, but it’s difficult to overcome those instincts. It’s just counter-intuitive. But that’s my new challenge for the next several days.
The PT session went well. I graduated to 2lb ankle weights, and the difference is telling. I’m almost embarrassed by my new muscles. Even extra large gym shorts can’t contain my legs.
I improved my free-standing flexion 3 degrees overnight, reaching 80 degrees. My thigh, however, suffered immensely to achieve this small gain. Dayna – one of Judy’s excellent assistants – was tasked with pinning my right thigh to the table while my gimpy knee dangled over the table edge, allowing Judy to slowly raise and lower the leg to measure my flexion. Apparently, my quads like to explode as my leg contracts, requiring Dayna to press down really hard to keep my knee immobile. Dayna might have a future as a grape crusher, as she generated enough pressure with her hands to make at least 4 bottles of wine. Her handprint remained on my thigh 24 hours later. Of course, she rightfully blames me for squirming too much (I did). Besides, the discomfort in my thigh was a welcome distraction from the soreness in my knee.
At the end of PT, I hopped onto the scale to measure how much weight I was placing on my bum wheel. I’m supposed to be at 50% of my body weight, and reach 75% before next week. For the first time since the surgery, I weighed myself. Wearing tennis shoes and workout attire, I was 152 pounds, a 6-10 pound drop from 3 weeks ago. That kind of weight loss probably would’ve kept me above the yellow line on The Biggest Loser. Of course, I also weigh less than most contestants’ elbows. Anyway, after pressing down on the scale with my right leg, I learned that I was averaging between 80-100 pounds of pressure. I need to reach 115 pounds soon. Pressing down that hard with a straight leg, however, feels unnatural. It contradicts everything you’re taught about avoiding knee injuries. Indeed, people frequently blow their knees by awkwardly landing straight-legged, snapping their ligaments like twigs. I realize that can’t (well, shouldn’t; never say can’t) happen with the brace locked, but it’s difficult to overcome those instincts. It’s just counter-intuitive. But that’s my new challenge for the next several days.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
3-Week Update
3 weeks down. 75 more to go. That’s how long it’ll take me to reach the 1 ½ year mark, when, hopefully, I’ll be 100% “normal” again. Well, I’ve never been considered, “normal,” but you know what I mean.
I had another PT session today. Things went fine. My free-standing flexion was 77 degrees. At this point, the goal was 75, so I’m slightly ahead of schedule. However, I was a bit disappointed. I just increased my CPM to 87 degrees today. Even though I understand my free-standing flexion will be less than my CPM number, I was hoping to hit 80 today. In any event, I’m supposed to be at 90 degrees free-standing by next Friday, which will be just over 4 weeks since the surgery. I also learned today that I won’t be able to start biking until the 6-week mark, regardless of when I reach 90 degrees, because of the osteotomy. Once again, my Tour de France dreams are on hold.
Judy manipulated my leg with the usual push and pulls, before adding a new wrinkle. For an extra layer of difficulty on my leg raises, she strapped on a massive, 1-lb ankle weight. Hoisting that 1-pound green boulder 3-6 inches off the trainer’s table generated a rare Hulk-like adrenaline rush. This must have been what Roger Clemens felt like after taking HGH. After cranking out 30 leg raises, I almost hopped off the table to flex in front of the mirror. But then I remembered I’m in no position to hop off anything or show off my guns.
Judy also removed the gauze bandaging on my knee, exposing the Franken-scar. The steri-strips still cover most of the incision, but the scar is gloriously prominent, especially when the knee rises in the CPM. It’s almost like the Franken-scar wants to smack me in the forehead. I can’t wait to show off the Franken-scar by wearing shorts on my next mall walk. I predict 3 people will pass out, and 2 will lose their lunch.
So far, there’s been no bruising on the shin or knee, and just a little swelling. I’ve rarely experienced pain in the knee, other than an occasional pinprick. The knee aches a bit first thing in the morning and after completion of my rehab exercises, but thankfully those are the only times. I do feel discomfort in my foot – the top part as well as the heel and ankle – because it remains flexed in the brace 24/7. I’ve been able to shower braceless every night without incident. Sleep remains elusive, though last night I almost made it through the entire night. I hope this marks the start of a new trend, but that’s doubtful. Oddly, I’m not tired despite getting no more than 2-3 hour bursts of sleep. Perhaps I should’ve been a stake-out guy instead of a lawyer. I wish I would’ve felt this good without regular sleep when my kids were newborns.
One final comment that’s completely un-related to my knee; something I’ve just gotta get off my chest. I watched most of the inauguration festivities yesterday. Like most Americans, I was moved by the historic moment, and it renewed my faith in our country. But what the fuck was Michele Obama wearing during the swearing-in ceremony? Did her “superstar designer” steal some shower curtains from the 1950’s? My 3-year old draws better-looking dresses, and she can’t stay between the lines yet. Michele would’ve better off wearing something from Zoolander.
It pained me to hear TV commentators rationalize the “beauty” of her dress as some kind of bold fashion statement. All I kept thinking was whether anybody would notice if somebody puked on her. Where was Mr. Blackstone when you really need him? Her dress was goony. Just say so. Speaking the truth about her dress doesn’t detract from the moment, but putting lipstick on a pig makes you look silly. Finally, the word “irony” doesn’t do justice to those who criticized car executives for flying on private jets to Congressional hearings, but then celebrated by throwing 10 ballroom functions. Ok, I’m done ranting.
I had another PT session today. Things went fine. My free-standing flexion was 77 degrees. At this point, the goal was 75, so I’m slightly ahead of schedule. However, I was a bit disappointed. I just increased my CPM to 87 degrees today. Even though I understand my free-standing flexion will be less than my CPM number, I was hoping to hit 80 today. In any event, I’m supposed to be at 90 degrees free-standing by next Friday, which will be just over 4 weeks since the surgery. I also learned today that I won’t be able to start biking until the 6-week mark, regardless of when I reach 90 degrees, because of the osteotomy. Once again, my Tour de France dreams are on hold.
Judy manipulated my leg with the usual push and pulls, before adding a new wrinkle. For an extra layer of difficulty on my leg raises, she strapped on a massive, 1-lb ankle weight. Hoisting that 1-pound green boulder 3-6 inches off the trainer’s table generated a rare Hulk-like adrenaline rush. This must have been what Roger Clemens felt like after taking HGH. After cranking out 30 leg raises, I almost hopped off the table to flex in front of the mirror. But then I remembered I’m in no position to hop off anything or show off my guns.
Judy also removed the gauze bandaging on my knee, exposing the Franken-scar. The steri-strips still cover most of the incision, but the scar is gloriously prominent, especially when the knee rises in the CPM. It’s almost like the Franken-scar wants to smack me in the forehead. I can’t wait to show off the Franken-scar by wearing shorts on my next mall walk. I predict 3 people will pass out, and 2 will lose their lunch.
So far, there’s been no bruising on the shin or knee, and just a little swelling. I’ve rarely experienced pain in the knee, other than an occasional pinprick. The knee aches a bit first thing in the morning and after completion of my rehab exercises, but thankfully those are the only times. I do feel discomfort in my foot – the top part as well as the heel and ankle – because it remains flexed in the brace 24/7. I’ve been able to shower braceless every night without incident. Sleep remains elusive, though last night I almost made it through the entire night. I hope this marks the start of a new trend, but that’s doubtful. Oddly, I’m not tired despite getting no more than 2-3 hour bursts of sleep. Perhaps I should’ve been a stake-out guy instead of a lawyer. I wish I would’ve felt this good without regular sleep when my kids were newborns.
One final comment that’s completely un-related to my knee; something I’ve just gotta get off my chest. I watched most of the inauguration festivities yesterday. Like most Americans, I was moved by the historic moment, and it renewed my faith in our country. But what the fuck was Michele Obama wearing during the swearing-in ceremony? Did her “superstar designer” steal some shower curtains from the 1950’s? My 3-year old draws better-looking dresses, and she can’t stay between the lines yet. Michele would’ve better off wearing something from Zoolander.
It pained me to hear TV commentators rationalize the “beauty” of her dress as some kind of bold fashion statement. All I kept thinking was whether anybody would notice if somebody puked on her. Where was Mr. Blackstone when you really need him? Her dress was goony. Just say so. Speaking the truth about her dress doesn’t detract from the moment, but putting lipstick on a pig makes you look silly. Finally, the word “irony” doesn’t do justice to those who criticized car executives for flying on private jets to Congressional hearings, but then celebrated by throwing 10 ballroom functions. Ok, I’m done ranting.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
PT Session #1
I accomplished a series of “firsts” today. First week post-surgery. First trip out of the house. First PT session. First time surfing one of those websites (ok, that one’s not true). And, first time seeing the Franken-Scar. That’s right – the PT removed all of the knee bandages, and I got a birds-eye peek at that monstrosity. Christina snapped a few shots on her cell phone, and those pictures are posted below. Christina and I agreed that the knee looks much worse on camera.
My PT is a 50-ish lady, Judy Holmes. My OS described her as the tough-loving type, though he said she always dishes the pain with a smile. Sadistic Judy might emerge over the next year, but I met a polite, polished, well-traveled woman who manipulated my knee while simultaneously sharing her German travel adventures. Christina, who lived in Germany for several years, remained with me during PT. Imagine the joys of hearing about Wurzburg, Neuschwanstein, and Stuttgard, or some other place I can’t pronounce or spell, while my knee is grinding through 14 layers of scar tissue. (Not that there’s anything wrong with German cities). At one point, I thought Judy got so engrossed in her conversation with Christina that she forgot about my gimpy knee. But then I remembered nobody could ignore my foul body odor. I haven’t showered since the surgery, exactly 1 week ago. I’ve had a couple of “baths” with baby wipes and hot towels, but trust me -- I need a full-fledged hosing; the kind of shower where you burn through two bottles of shampoo. We’re definitely throwing away every bed sheet used this past week. Today, I was so stinky (chorus: How stinky were you?). I was so stinky that I scared away the bums panhandling outside the PT building. Buh-dum-bum.
The PT session went well. My knee has little swelling and minimal bruising, all pretty shocking considering it’s only been 1 week since my knee endured a significant amount of trauma. Judy thought the knee is healing well. The scar, in all its glory, was a freaky sight to behold. The doctor can warn you about winding up with a 13-inch scar. But, with the staples still in, you can never be prepared for the sight of a metallic bolt snaking up from your shin to your lower thigh. My scar looked like miniature railway tracks. Or a zipper on a kid’s coat. Seriously, you could zip up my 3-year old with that thing.
Ok, here are 2 pictures of the scar, one showing it vertically, the other a horizontal angle. The yellow string running parallel to the scar below the knee is just leftover tape. In the horizontal picture, I think my leg looks creepy, like the leg of a really old man or something out of a morgue. My leg still has a solid tinge of yellow-orange iodine which clashes with my really pasty undersurface. I think that actually distorts the photo’s coloring a bit. I also think my leg looks weird shaved, even more so because it’s partially-shaved. In the vertical scar photo, you can see the hair growth on the top of my thigh. Anyway, enjoy the pictures. I’ll post another batch after Turgeon removes the staples.
Judy says my flexion and leg strength are greater than most people at 1 week out. (I asked her to put the gold-star on my brace). I’m currently at 60 degrees on the CPM. Today, she measured my flexion “free-standing” – which means bending the knee over the edge of the table on my own. I hit 55 degrees without effort. Judy says most people fall well short of their CPM number, especially early on, so she was pleased with my progress. She demonstrated a host of various ankle bends (with and without bands), leg raises, and side abductor moves, and gave me a list of 6 exercises to do each day on my own. I start my home therapy tomorrow. For the foreseeable future, I’m meeting Judy twice/week. And so the fun begins.
(Quick archiving/labeling note: From here forward, I plan to label my PT sessions by week, and probably note my OS visits by number. My first visit with Turgeon is on Monday. Each post will also contain a label for the post-op week number. This might help you search through postings or find an old one, assuming that’s possible. It will help me track the progress I’ve made)
My PT is a 50-ish lady, Judy Holmes. My OS described her as the tough-loving type, though he said she always dishes the pain with a smile. Sadistic Judy might emerge over the next year, but I met a polite, polished, well-traveled woman who manipulated my knee while simultaneously sharing her German travel adventures. Christina, who lived in Germany for several years, remained with me during PT. Imagine the joys of hearing about Wurzburg, Neuschwanstein, and Stuttgard, or some other place I can’t pronounce or spell, while my knee is grinding through 14 layers of scar tissue. (Not that there’s anything wrong with German cities). At one point, I thought Judy got so engrossed in her conversation with Christina that she forgot about my gimpy knee. But then I remembered nobody could ignore my foul body odor. I haven’t showered since the surgery, exactly 1 week ago. I’ve had a couple of “baths” with baby wipes and hot towels, but trust me -- I need a full-fledged hosing; the kind of shower where you burn through two bottles of shampoo. We’re definitely throwing away every bed sheet used this past week. Today, I was so stinky (chorus: How stinky were you?). I was so stinky that I scared away the bums panhandling outside the PT building. Buh-dum-bum.
The PT session went well. My knee has little swelling and minimal bruising, all pretty shocking considering it’s only been 1 week since my knee endured a significant amount of trauma. Judy thought the knee is healing well. The scar, in all its glory, was a freaky sight to behold. The doctor can warn you about winding up with a 13-inch scar. But, with the staples still in, you can never be prepared for the sight of a metallic bolt snaking up from your shin to your lower thigh. My scar looked like miniature railway tracks. Or a zipper on a kid’s coat. Seriously, you could zip up my 3-year old with that thing.
Ok, here are 2 pictures of the scar, one showing it vertically, the other a horizontal angle. The yellow string running parallel to the scar below the knee is just leftover tape. In the horizontal picture, I think my leg looks creepy, like the leg of a really old man or something out of a morgue. My leg still has a solid tinge of yellow-orange iodine which clashes with my really pasty undersurface. I think that actually distorts the photo’s coloring a bit. I also think my leg looks weird shaved, even more so because it’s partially-shaved. In the vertical scar photo, you can see the hair growth on the top of my thigh. Anyway, enjoy the pictures. I’ll post another batch after Turgeon removes the staples.
Judy says my flexion and leg strength are greater than most people at 1 week out. (I asked her to put the gold-star on my brace). I’m currently at 60 degrees on the CPM. Today, she measured my flexion “free-standing” – which means bending the knee over the edge of the table on my own. I hit 55 degrees without effort. Judy says most people fall well short of their CPM number, especially early on, so she was pleased with my progress. She demonstrated a host of various ankle bends (with and without bands), leg raises, and side abductor moves, and gave me a list of 6 exercises to do each day on my own. I start my home therapy tomorrow. For the foreseeable future, I’m meeting Judy twice/week. And so the fun begins.
(Quick archiving/labeling note: From here forward, I plan to label my PT sessions by week, and probably note my OS visits by number. My first visit with Turgeon is on Monday. Each post will also contain a label for the post-op week number. This might help you search through postings or find an old one, assuming that’s possible. It will help me track the progress I’ve made)
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