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.
Showing posts with label week 3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label week 3. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Physical Regression
Before I begin, what the fuck happened to global warming? I don’t care if it’s January, it’s not supposed to be 25 degrees, ever, in Dallas, which, by the way, feels like -30 does to Chicagoans. Like most Americans, the cold weather is beating me down, and I can’t shake this nasty hacking cough and constant green snot. This isn’t helping my rehab.
17 days. That’s all it took to wipe out 4 months of solid exercise and healthy eating. The soulless combination of surgery and inactivity has inflicted serious damage to my body. Before the surgery, I wasn’t about to win any bodybuilding competitions, but I was in fairly decent shape. Now, the little bulging veins that once proudly rippled across my arms are gone, as are the 1- and 2-pack abs I developed. (The closest I got to a 6-pack was the Amstel in the fridge). My right quadriceps is flimsier than jello, to the point where the outside of my thigh is actually sunken in like a crackhead’s cheeks. In fact, my entire right leg looks homelier than an orphaned chicken. It’s shriveled up so much that the brace already is starting to slide off. The PT told me yesterday that my leg strength was “pathetic,” though that’s normal for folks at my stage. I haven’t stepped onto a scale, but I’ve probably lost 5-10 pounds, mainly because I lost all muscle definition in my upper and lower body. Plus, I eat less than a French super-model addicted to heroin. My body transformation is like the reverse Super Size Me.
To combat my Benjamin Button-like renovation, I resumed lifting weights today, in addition to my regular rehab exercises. I’m finally comfortable enough sitting up without putting any pressure on my outstretched gimpy leg. Using light dumbbells (10lbs), I did a variety of curls, military presses and delt raises. It’s not much, but hopefully it’ll stave off any further deterioration. This past week, I started taking regular showers again, and each glimpse at my new body humbles me. I’m just trying to hang on until the doctor clears me to resume normal exercise, which, unfortunately, probably won’t happen for at least another month. Once I reach 90 degrees flexion in my knee (I’m at 75 degrees now; hopefully I’ll hit 90 by the end of January), I’ll be able to start riding a stationary bike with no resistance. Nobody will mistake the biking I do for the Tour de France, but at least it's a form of cardio. At first, I’ll peddle for just a few minutes at a time, before slowly increasing the duration and eventually adding some resistance.
Around the 6-week mark, I also expect to ditch the brace and start water therapy. I’ll likely just walk the length of the pool, perhaps adding gentle straight-leg kicks to my routine. According to the rehab protocol, “the buoyancy of the water decreases the amount of weight-bearing forces” on the injured areas of the knee. Even before I hurt my knee, nobody ever confused my swimming prowess with Michael Phelps’s, so I’ll be curious to see how pathetic I’ll function in the water with my bum wheel. I might even wear floaties just to be safe.
17 days. That’s all it took to wipe out 4 months of solid exercise and healthy eating. The soulless combination of surgery and inactivity has inflicted serious damage to my body. Before the surgery, I wasn’t about to win any bodybuilding competitions, but I was in fairly decent shape. Now, the little bulging veins that once proudly rippled across my arms are gone, as are the 1- and 2-pack abs I developed. (The closest I got to a 6-pack was the Amstel in the fridge). My right quadriceps is flimsier than jello, to the point where the outside of my thigh is actually sunken in like a crackhead’s cheeks. In fact, my entire right leg looks homelier than an orphaned chicken. It’s shriveled up so much that the brace already is starting to slide off. The PT told me yesterday that my leg strength was “pathetic,” though that’s normal for folks at my stage. I haven’t stepped onto a scale, but I’ve probably lost 5-10 pounds, mainly because I lost all muscle definition in my upper and lower body. Plus, I eat less than a French super-model addicted to heroin. My body transformation is like the reverse Super Size Me.
To combat my Benjamin Button-like renovation, I resumed lifting weights today, in addition to my regular rehab exercises. I’m finally comfortable enough sitting up without putting any pressure on my outstretched gimpy leg. Using light dumbbells (10lbs), I did a variety of curls, military presses and delt raises. It’s not much, but hopefully it’ll stave off any further deterioration. This past week, I started taking regular showers again, and each glimpse at my new body humbles me. I’m just trying to hang on until the doctor clears me to resume normal exercise, which, unfortunately, probably won’t happen for at least another month. Once I reach 90 degrees flexion in my knee (I’m at 75 degrees now; hopefully I’ll hit 90 by the end of January), I’ll be able to start riding a stationary bike with no resistance. Nobody will mistake the biking I do for the Tour de France, but at least it's a form of cardio. At first, I’ll peddle for just a few minutes at a time, before slowly increasing the duration and eventually adding some resistance.
Around the 6-week mark, I also expect to ditch the brace and start water therapy. I’ll likely just walk the length of the pool, perhaps adding gentle straight-leg kicks to my routine. According to the rehab protocol, “the buoyancy of the water decreases the amount of weight-bearing forces” on the injured areas of the knee. Even before I hurt my knee, nobody ever confused my swimming prowess with Michael Phelps’s, so I’ll be curious to see how pathetic I’ll function in the water with my bum wheel. I might even wear floaties just to be safe.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Two Week Update
It’s been 2 weeks since my ACI surgery. I can’t say time’s flown by, because there have been plenty of grueling moments to prolong most days. It also hasn’t helped that I’ve thrown 1 or 2 pity parties, temporarily cursing my decision to undergo this procedure. At the same time, the surgery feels like it happened ages ago, and, though I’ve got a long way to go, at least I know I’ve made some progress. In any event, remaining almost exclusively at home, spending most of the early days in bed, has jacked up my sense of time. Plus, I’ve been watching way too much Dora the Explorer, and that can’t be too good for my brain…
From a physical standpoint, I’m probably ahead of schedule. I realize it’s only been 2 weeks, but achieving these initial rehab goals has elevated my spirits. Trust me. I’ve been beaten down plenty of times, and I’m sure I’ll hit the wall at some point during rehab. However, having some accomplishments under my belt will facilitate my climb over those temporary obstacles. Wow. I’ve really embraced my inner philosopher. Call me SocrateJims. Or Homer Jim. No, wait, that’s too Simpsons-like. Let’s go with Aristotle Jim. Much better. Very regal-sounding.
I just started increasing my CPM again. I hit 75 degrees at the 1 ½ week mark, a relatively rapid rise. Because of the osteotomy, I’m supposed to remain at 75 until Week 3. Since today marks the start of week 3, I resumed my ROM increase. So far, the extra 5 degrees hasn’t felt any different. Indeed, the last 5 degrees of any target number are difficult. As the knee reaches the apex, the tension on the knee cap grows tighter than Joan Rivers’s face (as you can tell, I'm a big fan of face-lift jokes). Along the way, my knee’s “popped” several times. The popping didn’t hurt. To the contrary, it provided relief, much like you feel the moment after cracking your back first thing in the morning. I likely just worked through some adhesions, or scar tissue.
As I mentioned in earlier post, my OS left his practice group to open his own shop as of January 1st. Unfortunately, it was not a friendly split. Just like the practice of law isn’t strictly about providing legal advice, doctors also face business issues as well as dispensing medical advice. I don’t know the details of their split, and frankly I don’t care, except to the extent it impacts the quality of medical care I receive. Sadly, it did.
Turgeon’s old practice, Texas Sports Medicine and Orthopaedic Group, ignored 3 of my requests to transfer my medical files, as well as Turgeon’s request. Not only is this illegal and potentially exposes them to liability if something happens to my knee, it’s a stupid business decision. I’m a long-time patient of the practice group. The head doctor, Tarek Souryal, performed my shoulder surgery and evaluated my fractured vertebrae 14 years ago when I was still an SMU Law Student. Christina recently visited a different doctor within the practice to treat her wrist. Despite my long-standing relationship, the practice held my medical records hostage as part of its battle with Turgeon. My welfare, however, is not some bargaining chip to be leveraged. And it’s just fucking stupid to piss off a patient who also happens to be a lawyer. My personal legal skirmishes are legendary. Just ask the local dry cleaner who lost 7 custom-made shirts, and eventually had to cut me a check 10x greater than my initial settlement demand. There’s never been an idiot more deserving of his punishment.
On Wednesday, I stopped by the practice group to demand my records in-person. If they dicked me around, I was prepared to send them a nasty, “give me my records or suffer the consequences” letter. Although the office manager treated me coldly, she handed over my medical jacket, after charging me $25. Apparently, Texas law allows medical providers to charge patients a fee to retrieve and copy their medical records. While I think Dr. Souryal is a fantastic orthopedic surgeon, his group’s handling of this situation has poisoned my opinion of his practice.
From a physical standpoint, I’m probably ahead of schedule. I realize it’s only been 2 weeks, but achieving these initial rehab goals has elevated my spirits. Trust me. I’ve been beaten down plenty of times, and I’m sure I’ll hit the wall at some point during rehab. However, having some accomplishments under my belt will facilitate my climb over those temporary obstacles. Wow. I’ve really embraced my inner philosopher. Call me SocrateJims. Or Homer Jim. No, wait, that’s too Simpsons-like. Let’s go with Aristotle Jim. Much better. Very regal-sounding.
I just started increasing my CPM again. I hit 75 degrees at the 1 ½ week mark, a relatively rapid rise. Because of the osteotomy, I’m supposed to remain at 75 until Week 3. Since today marks the start of week 3, I resumed my ROM increase. So far, the extra 5 degrees hasn’t felt any different. Indeed, the last 5 degrees of any target number are difficult. As the knee reaches the apex, the tension on the knee cap grows tighter than Joan Rivers’s face (as you can tell, I'm a big fan of face-lift jokes). Along the way, my knee’s “popped” several times. The popping didn’t hurt. To the contrary, it provided relief, much like you feel the moment after cracking your back first thing in the morning. I likely just worked through some adhesions, or scar tissue.
As I mentioned in earlier post, my OS left his practice group to open his own shop as of January 1st. Unfortunately, it was not a friendly split. Just like the practice of law isn’t strictly about providing legal advice, doctors also face business issues as well as dispensing medical advice. I don’t know the details of their split, and frankly I don’t care, except to the extent it impacts the quality of medical care I receive. Sadly, it did.
Turgeon’s old practice, Texas Sports Medicine and Orthopaedic Group, ignored 3 of my requests to transfer my medical files, as well as Turgeon’s request. Not only is this illegal and potentially exposes them to liability if something happens to my knee, it’s a stupid business decision. I’m a long-time patient of the practice group. The head doctor, Tarek Souryal, performed my shoulder surgery and evaluated my fractured vertebrae 14 years ago when I was still an SMU Law Student. Christina recently visited a different doctor within the practice to treat her wrist. Despite my long-standing relationship, the practice held my medical records hostage as part of its battle with Turgeon. My welfare, however, is not some bargaining chip to be leveraged. And it’s just fucking stupid to piss off a patient who also happens to be a lawyer. My personal legal skirmishes are legendary. Just ask the local dry cleaner who lost 7 custom-made shirts, and eventually had to cut me a check 10x greater than my initial settlement demand. There’s never been an idiot more deserving of his punishment.
On Wednesday, I stopped by the practice group to demand my records in-person. If they dicked me around, I was prepared to send them a nasty, “give me my records or suffer the consequences” letter. Although the office manager treated me coldly, she handed over my medical jacket, after charging me $25. Apparently, Texas law allows medical providers to charge patients a fee to retrieve and copy their medical records. While I think Dr. Souryal is a fantastic orthopedic surgeon, his group’s handling of this situation has poisoned my opinion of his practice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
