Another week, 2 more degrees of ROM. I'm gaining flexion on a timetable closer to a regular diet than the crash course Adkins -- I just keep adding a few degrees here and there. I'm now at 143 degrees, about 2 degrees shy of my good leg.
I went swimming for the first time. Not pool-walking; real swimming. A few weeks back, we set up the 20-foot round, 3-feet deep, above-ground pool. It sits right next to the camping trailer and the '75 Impala resting on concrete blocks. Real classy addition to our backyard. But the kids love it, so I can't complain.
Anyway, I actually swam the length of our pool a few times. My swim stroke can best be described as "painfully ugly." Well, assuming you can see my form past my blinding "office glare" tan. Truthfully, I can't call my swimming motion, a "stroke." That would be an insult to swim strokes; thrashing about is more accurate. But luckily it only takes me 2-3 "strokes" to cross my pool. Anything longer and I'd drown. No, wait. I'd just stand up. The pool's only 3 feet deep. Phew.
Similar to using the ellipitcal machine, swimming felt...odd. My leg felt more like a broken flipper, flopping precariously like a creaky door barely attached to the hinges. Not sure if that's my gimpy knee; the weak quad; or just my uncomfortableness with swimming. I doubt I'll swim regularly enough to give Michael Phelps a run for his money. But I do hope to get decent enough that the life guards won't have to rescue me. Or at least good enough to avoid having to wear my daughter's Strawberry Shortcake floaties.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Frustratingly Normal
First things first. 141. That’s the number I’m slapping down. It’s got a mystic feel, like a 300 bowling game, or .400 batting average. No, it’s not my IQ (c’mon, don’t insult my genius with that piddling score). Rather, 141’s my new ROM. Breaking 140 is like shattering the flexion glass ceiling. It’s still 4 degrees shy of my good leg, but it falls comfortably within what’s considered full range of motion. Hopefully I’ll recapture those last 4 degrees, but I don’t feel like I’m missing anything if I don’t.
I experimented with a handful of new cardio exercises this week. Well, not new in the sense that I’ve never done them before; I just haven’t done them since my surgery. Some worked; some didn’t.
First, I fell in love all over again with my old friend the elliptical machine. Even before the surgery, I stopped running and rarely used the stair climber. Too much stress on my knees. The elliptical (some call it, Precor) became my primary source of cardio. Low impact, easy to use, and capable of various speed/intensity, the elliptical was a great way to sweat off 500 calories. This week, I set the machine at level 1 for both the height of the glide tracks and the resistance. Man, I felt like an 85-year Eskimo taking a leisurely stroll across the Tundra after chowing down on some penguin meat. The motion felt . . . strange. My knee didn’t hurt. I wasn’t tired. And my form was generally normal. But something didn’t feel quite right. The best way to describe it, I guess, was the sensation amputees report they feel from their missing limbs. Now, I’ve got all my appendages, so I really don’t know how that feels. This just seems to be the right description. Or at least the best I’m able to do. Anyway, I anticipate slowly increasing the level of difficulty on the elliptical, and finally being able to sweat off some of the extra poundage.
The treadmill proved far more difficult. For the past 2-3 weeks, I’ve steadily increased my pace and incline setting. Most recently, I cruised along at a 3.5mph clip at the 4-incline setting. After 20 minutes, I was glistening like a Southern Belle sunbathing on a glorious summer day. Glorious, that it, because she’s topless. Unless she’s really fat. In that case, put the Mumu back on, honey. Or scrape together a few yards of fabric to make one. Seriously. (Sorry, a sudden mean streak crept upon me. The kids were beating the crap out of each other. I’ll return to my jovial self shortly).
Ok, back to the treadmill without the boobie analogy. I tried lateral walking. Basically, that’s shuffling sideways, something middle-schoolers do at basketball practice. I slowed the treadmill down to 1.5mph, its slowest setting and took a couple of normal walking steps to acclimate myself before trying out the new motion. I didn’t think it was possible to move that slow. Sadly, even 1.5mph was too fast for my lateral walking. I simply couldn’t comfortably shuffle at that blistering pace. It felt like somebody was yanking out the rug beneath me.
The same thing happened when I tried to walk backwards, only this time I also resembled Elliot, you know, the really dorky 2nd grader with the coke-bottle glasses who always gets picked last at kickball? True, I simply couldn’t handle this speed at this point in my recovery, but I was also painfully uncoordinated, tripping over my feet and otherwise stumbling around, trying my best not to fly off the back of the treadmill. For somebody who used to dig 60 mph spikes, not being able to walk sideways or backwards was depressing. Taking the “glass is half-full” attitude, I’ve got a new athletic challenge. It’s just embarrassing that the “challenge” is something my 3-year old can do.
The past few weeks have been interesting. Several times I actually feel normal, forgetting the 2 screws and 13-inch scar decorating my knee. No pain. No limp. No uncomfortableness. I even handle stairs with minimal difficulty. But then I instinctively try to do something a bit beyond my limit – for example, trying to move 2 steps to catch an errant throw at my 7-year old’s baseball practice – and instantly my deficiencies snap me back to reality. I realize how limited I still am. Like an athlete past his prime. His mind knows what to do, but the body won’t cooperate. Actually, I’m way past my prime, so my body wouldn’t cooperate even if it wanted to. Nonetheless, I feel relatively decent about my long-term prognosis. Sure, I get beaten down plenty about the lost opportunities over the past 5 months and more than occasionally worry that I’ll be forced to embrace a lesser quality of life. But overall I remain hopeful I’ll regain full use of my knee. If so, expect a new Guinness record for backwards walking in 2010.
I experimented with a handful of new cardio exercises this week. Well, not new in the sense that I’ve never done them before; I just haven’t done them since my surgery. Some worked; some didn’t.
First, I fell in love all over again with my old friend the elliptical machine. Even before the surgery, I stopped running and rarely used the stair climber. Too much stress on my knees. The elliptical (some call it, Precor) became my primary source of cardio. Low impact, easy to use, and capable of various speed/intensity, the elliptical was a great way to sweat off 500 calories. This week, I set the machine at level 1 for both the height of the glide tracks and the resistance. Man, I felt like an 85-year Eskimo taking a leisurely stroll across the Tundra after chowing down on some penguin meat. The motion felt . . . strange. My knee didn’t hurt. I wasn’t tired. And my form was generally normal. But something didn’t feel quite right. The best way to describe it, I guess, was the sensation amputees report they feel from their missing limbs. Now, I’ve got all my appendages, so I really don’t know how that feels. This just seems to be the right description. Or at least the best I’m able to do. Anyway, I anticipate slowly increasing the level of difficulty on the elliptical, and finally being able to sweat off some of the extra poundage.
The treadmill proved far more difficult. For the past 2-3 weeks, I’ve steadily increased my pace and incline setting. Most recently, I cruised along at a 3.5mph clip at the 4-incline setting. After 20 minutes, I was glistening like a Southern Belle sunbathing on a glorious summer day. Glorious, that it, because she’s topless. Unless she’s really fat. In that case, put the Mumu back on, honey. Or scrape together a few yards of fabric to make one. Seriously. (Sorry, a sudden mean streak crept upon me. The kids were beating the crap out of each other. I’ll return to my jovial self shortly).
Ok, back to the treadmill without the boobie analogy. I tried lateral walking. Basically, that’s shuffling sideways, something middle-schoolers do at basketball practice. I slowed the treadmill down to 1.5mph, its slowest setting and took a couple of normal walking steps to acclimate myself before trying out the new motion. I didn’t think it was possible to move that slow. Sadly, even 1.5mph was too fast for my lateral walking. I simply couldn’t comfortably shuffle at that blistering pace. It felt like somebody was yanking out the rug beneath me.
The same thing happened when I tried to walk backwards, only this time I also resembled Elliot, you know, the really dorky 2nd grader with the coke-bottle glasses who always gets picked last at kickball? True, I simply couldn’t handle this speed at this point in my recovery, but I was also painfully uncoordinated, tripping over my feet and otherwise stumbling around, trying my best not to fly off the back of the treadmill. For somebody who used to dig 60 mph spikes, not being able to walk sideways or backwards was depressing. Taking the “glass is half-full” attitude, I’ve got a new athletic challenge. It’s just embarrassing that the “challenge” is something my 3-year old can do.
The past few weeks have been interesting. Several times I actually feel normal, forgetting the 2 screws and 13-inch scar decorating my knee. No pain. No limp. No uncomfortableness. I even handle stairs with minimal difficulty. But then I instinctively try to do something a bit beyond my limit – for example, trying to move 2 steps to catch an errant throw at my 7-year old’s baseball practice – and instantly my deficiencies snap me back to reality. I realize how limited I still am. Like an athlete past his prime. His mind knows what to do, but the body won’t cooperate. Actually, I’m way past my prime, so my body wouldn’t cooperate even if it wanted to. Nonetheless, I feel relatively decent about my long-term prognosis. Sure, I get beaten down plenty about the lost opportunities over the past 5 months and more than occasionally worry that I’ll be forced to embrace a lesser quality of life. But overall I remain hopeful I’ll regain full use of my knee. If so, expect a new Guinness record for backwards walking in 2010.
Friday, May 29, 2009
5 Months
Wow. 5 months. I still remember lying awake at 3am in mid-January for something like 18 straight nights. Man, I watched a ton of crappy movies on TNT. But not Honey. Jessica Alba. Mmmm. She made many nights bearable.
Anyway, with my leg trapped in a clunky brace, I wondered whether I'd ever sleep through an entire night, let alone walk again. Now? Well, I'm still a tad bitter about my gimpiness, but I'm generally functional. Even my limp sometimes disappears. And I'm getting ready to try the elipitical machine for some desperately needed cardio. The recumbent bike just ain't cutting it. The 12 pounds lost immediately after the surgery returned. And these pounds I packed on aren't the type like those following an HGH cycle. These extra pounds kinda just hang on me like a cheap suit.
I'm down to 1 PT session/week. I'm heading to the gym about 5x/week, banging out most of the same exercises on my own. Plus I do tons of SLRs at home sitting on the couch every day. My right quad is still pretty squishy, but if you squint hard enough you can see the contour of some tiny muscles. Kinda like my abs when I was 12 years old.
I'm also trying to resume a normal workout schedule. Prior to the surgery, I used to head to the gym 2-3x during my lunch break at the office. These trips were in addition to the 2-3x each week I'd head to the gym in the morning. Though my somewhat chaotic work schedule isn't exactly cooperating, I'm close to recapturing that routine. And that's a good thing. My happiness is closely tied to maintaining a schedule. Just in time for summer.
Anyway, with my leg trapped in a clunky brace, I wondered whether I'd ever sleep through an entire night, let alone walk again. Now? Well, I'm still a tad bitter about my gimpiness, but I'm generally functional. Even my limp sometimes disappears. And I'm getting ready to try the elipitical machine for some desperately needed cardio. The recumbent bike just ain't cutting it. The 12 pounds lost immediately after the surgery returned. And these pounds I packed on aren't the type like those following an HGH cycle. These extra pounds kinda just hang on me like a cheap suit.
I'm down to 1 PT session/week. I'm heading to the gym about 5x/week, banging out most of the same exercises on my own. Plus I do tons of SLRs at home sitting on the couch every day. My right quad is still pretty squishy, but if you squint hard enough you can see the contour of some tiny muscles. Kinda like my abs when I was 12 years old.
I'm also trying to resume a normal workout schedule. Prior to the surgery, I used to head to the gym 2-3x during my lunch break at the office. These trips were in addition to the 2-3x each week I'd head to the gym in the morning. Though my somewhat chaotic work schedule isn't exactly cooperating, I'm close to recapturing that routine. And that's a good thing. My happiness is closely tied to maintaining a schedule. Just in time for summer.
Friday, May 22, 2009
20 1/2 Week Update -- OS Visit
Actually, it’s been 143 days since my surgery. The ability to easily calculate the amount of time that’s elapsed is the biggest advantage of having surgery on New Year’s Eve, I guess.
I met with Dr. Turgeon Friday morning. My biggest question/concern was the crunching noises whenever I perform open chain exercises. The knee doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and I wanted to know whether I should continue performing these exercises despite the noises.
Dr. T said nope. He wants me to avoid open chain exercises for the next month. The graft is still healing, and he doesn’t want to risk damaging it. He didn’t seem overly concerned about the noises. He manipulated my knee a few times and noted the noises only happened at the initial contraction point when the patella and trochlear groove first bear weight. Actually, the knee really didn’t crunch during my visit today. Gotta hate it when the problem doesn’t occur the one time you want it to; that’s the Murphy’s Law of ACI surgery in action. On the plus side, the knee now barely clicks during full extension, and doesn’t click at all if I extend the leg at a glacial pace, an improvement over my last visit. Overall, this isn’t necessarily a positive sign, but it’s terrible, either.
I scheduled an MRI on June 29, with the follow-up visit on July 1. I’ll get an early Fourth of July present. Or lump of coal. I’m not sure what to expect from an MRI at the 6-month mark. It’s more like a mid-quarter progress report. The MRI really will reveal only bad information, like an incomplete graft, fissures or adhesions on the graft site, or excess scar tissue. Hopefully the MRI will indicate that the lesions are filled in, but it’s still too early to determine whether the cloned cartilage has adequately bonded with the existing stuff. That probably won’t happen until the 10-14 month mark, I believe, though sometimes you can tell at 8 months. And sometimes you really can’t tell unless the doctor actually scopes the knee. We’ll see. As much as I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of my bionicly repaired knee, that’s actually kinda perverse. If you think about it, the best case scenario is I learn things are on track, not that I’m healed. That’s the same kind of news I’ve heard for the past 20 ½ weeks. Basically, the MRI might not tell me anything new. Except now there’s a chance I might discover that something inside my knee is seriously jacked up. Not good times.
I met with Dr. Turgeon Friday morning. My biggest question/concern was the crunching noises whenever I perform open chain exercises. The knee doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and I wanted to know whether I should continue performing these exercises despite the noises.
Dr. T said nope. He wants me to avoid open chain exercises for the next month. The graft is still healing, and he doesn’t want to risk damaging it. He didn’t seem overly concerned about the noises. He manipulated my knee a few times and noted the noises only happened at the initial contraction point when the patella and trochlear groove first bear weight. Actually, the knee really didn’t crunch during my visit today. Gotta hate it when the problem doesn’t occur the one time you want it to; that’s the Murphy’s Law of ACI surgery in action. On the plus side, the knee now barely clicks during full extension, and doesn’t click at all if I extend the leg at a glacial pace, an improvement over my last visit. Overall, this isn’t necessarily a positive sign, but it’s terrible, either.
I scheduled an MRI on June 29, with the follow-up visit on July 1. I’ll get an early Fourth of July present. Or lump of coal. I’m not sure what to expect from an MRI at the 6-month mark. It’s more like a mid-quarter progress report. The MRI really will reveal only bad information, like an incomplete graft, fissures or adhesions on the graft site, or excess scar tissue. Hopefully the MRI will indicate that the lesions are filled in, but it’s still too early to determine whether the cloned cartilage has adequately bonded with the existing stuff. That probably won’t happen until the 10-14 month mark, I believe, though sometimes you can tell at 8 months. And sometimes you really can’t tell unless the doctor actually scopes the knee. We’ll see. As much as I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of my bionicly repaired knee, that’s actually kinda perverse. If you think about it, the best case scenario is I learn things are on track, not that I’m healed. That’s the same kind of news I’ve heard for the past 20 ½ weeks. Basically, the MRI might not tell me anything new. Except now there’s a chance I might discover that something inside my knee is seriously jacked up. Not good times.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
4 1/2 Month Update
Nothing terribly new to report. The knee continues to feel better, and I’m slowly regaining what I consider, “basic functional use.” That doesn’t mean I’m back to normal. Far from it. But I’m able to walk without difficulty, and I’ve picked up enough speed to keep up with the elderly.
My limp is barely noticeable, but still present. The leg gives out randomly once or twice per day, usually for a nanosecond, and then I quickly recapture my normal walking form. Stairs remain problematic. I don’t have to avoid stairs, but I do need to handle them with care, especially going down. I’m just now heading up and down 1 step at a time, rather than planting both feet on a step before continuing, though I still occasionally do that. I also still use the handrail.
Here are some other highlights and lowlights at this point in the recovery:
• The most troubling part right now is the continued clicking, grinding, cracking, etc. during random exercises. Crepitus, I believe, is the technical term. No pain, fortunately. The hard part is determining whether to stop once the knee makes these noises. Dr. Petersen, the Swedish ACI pioneer who examined me last month, advised me to avoid doing knee extensions if it caused “clicking.” I know exactly what “clicking” feels like and can tailor my exercises appropriately. Some of the noises, however, isn’t clicking. It might just be harmless scar tissue breaking apart, or it might be a sign that the activity is aggravating the knee. The uncertainty sucks. I want to build up my quad strength, but I don’t want to jeopardize the healing process. This will be issue #1 to discuss with Turgeon next Friday.
• I started walking on the treadmill. Right now, I limit my speed to 3 – 3.5 mph, which is a pretty moderate walking pace, with the incline levels ranging between 0-3. Twenty minutes on the treadmill at this pace and incline won’t impress Bob and Jillian, but at least I can work up a minor sweat. But more importantly, it doesn’t cause any pain.
• I ride the recumbent bike at a moderate clip for about 30 minutes every day. I’m not going to break out the yellow jersey (actually only dorks wear one), but I manage a slight sweat. The biking and treadmill are my only forms of cardio. Hopefully I’ll be able try the elliptical soon. Meanwhile, I’ll continue biking, which is supposed to be the best rehab exercise for ACI patients.
• I still have some swelling in my knee, especially after I exercise or spend a significant amount of time on my feet. The knee’s no longer a grotesque cantaloupe, but it’s not pretty. Thankfully not as ugly as Hedu Turkoglu, though.
• Bending and squatting are still beyond me. I can handle wall sits, but maneuvers that require short bursts of pressure on the knee are off-limits. I started to add shallow lunges, but the knee crackles inconsistently, and I’m afraid to continue. Again, something I need to address with Turgeon.
• The back of my knee still pops softly after being in a locked position.
• I traveled to DC for a few days last week. TSA’s security measures concern me. The two Home Depot-sized screws in my leg didn’t set off the metal detectors. Hopefully terrorists would embed weapons inside body parts, but you never know. . .
• My passive flexion (meaning, on my own) is 130 degrees, and my active one (where Judy crunches my leg) measured 138 degrees today.
My limp is barely noticeable, but still present. The leg gives out randomly once or twice per day, usually for a nanosecond, and then I quickly recapture my normal walking form. Stairs remain problematic. I don’t have to avoid stairs, but I do need to handle them with care, especially going down. I’m just now heading up and down 1 step at a time, rather than planting both feet on a step before continuing, though I still occasionally do that. I also still use the handrail.
Here are some other highlights and lowlights at this point in the recovery:
• The most troubling part right now is the continued clicking, grinding, cracking, etc. during random exercises. Crepitus, I believe, is the technical term. No pain, fortunately. The hard part is determining whether to stop once the knee makes these noises. Dr. Petersen, the Swedish ACI pioneer who examined me last month, advised me to avoid doing knee extensions if it caused “clicking.” I know exactly what “clicking” feels like and can tailor my exercises appropriately. Some of the noises, however, isn’t clicking. It might just be harmless scar tissue breaking apart, or it might be a sign that the activity is aggravating the knee. The uncertainty sucks. I want to build up my quad strength, but I don’t want to jeopardize the healing process. This will be issue #1 to discuss with Turgeon next Friday.
• I started walking on the treadmill. Right now, I limit my speed to 3 – 3.5 mph, which is a pretty moderate walking pace, with the incline levels ranging between 0-3. Twenty minutes on the treadmill at this pace and incline won’t impress Bob and Jillian, but at least I can work up a minor sweat. But more importantly, it doesn’t cause any pain.
• I ride the recumbent bike at a moderate clip for about 30 minutes every day. I’m not going to break out the yellow jersey (actually only dorks wear one), but I manage a slight sweat. The biking and treadmill are my only forms of cardio. Hopefully I’ll be able try the elliptical soon. Meanwhile, I’ll continue biking, which is supposed to be the best rehab exercise for ACI patients.
• I still have some swelling in my knee, especially after I exercise or spend a significant amount of time on my feet. The knee’s no longer a grotesque cantaloupe, but it’s not pretty. Thankfully not as ugly as Hedu Turkoglu, though.
• Bending and squatting are still beyond me. I can handle wall sits, but maneuvers that require short bursts of pressure on the knee are off-limits. I started to add shallow lunges, but the knee crackles inconsistently, and I’m afraid to continue. Again, something I need to address with Turgeon.
• The back of my knee still pops softly after being in a locked position.
• I traveled to DC for a few days last week. TSA’s security measures concern me. The two Home Depot-sized screws in my leg didn’t set off the metal detectors. Hopefully terrorists would embed weapons inside body parts, but you never know. . .
• My passive flexion (meaning, on my own) is 130 degrees, and my active one (where Judy crunches my leg) measured 138 degrees today.
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