T - Minus 24 hours!

I went to the Doctor Tuesday for my pre-surgery regimen; blood test, urine sample, EKG. I felt like a car going through a diagnostic prior to getting its engine rebuilt. After the EKG the technician said "perfect". I asked if that was a diagnosis or rhetorical. "Rhetorical" was his answer. "But everything looks good", he added - whatever that means.

The nurse ran through the routine with me telling me the process. I have to arrive at the hospital at 5:15AM Thursday morning. I should shower, scrub and disinfect the "areas" before I come. The orderly will shave me... that's good and I hope they inform him that I'm just getting my knees worked on. She told me what to bring and what to leave home. She also informed me of what to expect from the medications that will be used and to take them whether I felt the need or not.

Five days in the hospital, seven in a rehab facility. I just want to get this thing over with. I am a little anxious and impatient to the point of being testy - I apologized to Marian last night for being grumpy. She understood - after all she has lived with me for almost 38 years. Grumpy has reared his ugly head before. I'm trying to get everything taken care of at home; bills and my chore list and I am trying to get a leg up on the business quarter at work - that has proven to be more difficult. In a way I feel I deserve five days in bed on drugs whatever the reason.

My friends, family and co-workers have been great and supportive. It's nice to know a lot of people care and are willing to share the load. I've been off any medication for nine days now including ibuprofen. There have been a couple times I could have used a handful. Marian brought home a new fuzzy robe for me to take to the hospital. I guess she thinks no one wants to see the back of my open gown - and I agree with her. Keegan said, "I didn't think you were a robe sort of guy Dad." I'm really not but I will wear one to protect the innocent. I'm not looking forward to spending Easter in the hospital. No ham nor fun family get together for me. I'm sure Marian will bring me a baggy full of malt balls as those are my favorite Easter candy. Sigh...

I'll write again on the backside of the surgery. I may have to dictate to Marian. Wish me luck.

Pioneers! O Pioneers!

Eight days away from surgery, at ten days out no more ibuprofen or blood thinning agents. I can take Tylenol. I’m not a real pill person so that doesn’t affect me too much. I made the mistake the other day of watching the surgery I am getting on You-Tube; UGH! It looked like something from shop class; saws, hammers, chisels, pins, glue…Oh My! No wonder they say it is painful. Despite the fact that I will be knocked out my bones will have some latent memory of the trauma. At this point I just want to get it done and quit processing it.

Many of you have expressed kind words of encouragement –I thank you for that. I didn’t realize I will have a nine-inch scar running down both my kneecaps. I hope they sew me up tight as I know I have to do a lot of bending in therapy and I don’t want my knee popping out of the slot! I want to thank all the knee surgery pioneers and guinea pigs that have gone before me to perfect this procedure. I hope they have perfected it by the time I lay on the operating table. 

Speaking of pioneers, I am confident there were many pioneers that walked hundreds of miles across the plains and over the Rockies on bad knees. They kept walking and plugging along and simply worked through the pain heading toward a better life. There was no knee-replacement surgery back then. There’s a lot of worthy soldiers that have lost their legs in the line of duty to preserve our freedom that would take my legs - bad knees and all. I’m simply a little anxious about all this and tend to tell myself the worst stories. 

I was telling Marian last night how much I will miss her – five days in the hospital, eight days in a rehab facility for PT. I know she will be a faithful visitor but I don’t expect her to sit by my bedside 24/7. I am not looking forward to down-time in a hospital bed. Hopefully I will be able to read or work on my book; of course that all depends on my lucidity on pain medication. Sometimes I think I am being a baby about all this and I apologize. I will have a better perspective when I get on the other side of the surgery and start feeling positive results. I promise to sing praises as equally as I have whined. I’ll shut up now and count my blessings for modern medicine, insurance, and supportive friends and family.

 Talk to you soon.

Oh Pleeease the Kneees!

I’m getting a double knee replacement surgery on March 28^th. I thought I would blog about my journey and my feelings going into this and coming out of it to perhaps help any of you out there that are considering the same procedure.  I will try and be honest and I apologize in advance for my bad humor which I am sure will be evident. Wish me luck (with the surgery not the writing).

“You’re getting old and things just start falling apart.” That was what my Doctor and friend Kirt Kimball told me about five years ago when I went to him about the pain in my right knee. Not what I wanted to hear. I began wondering what else on my body was falling apart.

It’s amazing what they can do these days by simply poking a couple of holes in your knee. Arthroscopic surgery has put a lot of cutters out of work. No longer are the days of the six inch scar down the center of your knee-cap; just a couple red spots that appear like fang marks from a wide-mouthed rattlesnake. Out-patient surgery in the morning and I was good enough of walk out of the hospital by lunch as soon as the anesthesia wore off.  Kirt later told me in a follow-up visit that he didn’t know how I even walked on that knee. It appeared my cartilage had been crushed like the traditional glass stomped on by a Jewish groom at the end of a wedding ceremony –Mazel-tov!  My knee did feel like it was full of glass pieces for about six months before I decided on the procedure.  You notice the ambiguous term we call a “Procedure”. I had a procedure. My wife is having a procedure. It allows us to intimate we are having something done by a doctor without having to make an admission. It’s much better than saying – I’m getting a colonoscopy or a nose job and have your friends look at you forming a visual.

It didn’t take too long after my procedure before I was walking normally and bending with confidence. Kneeling down on the repaired knee was a little tenuous but gradually that became bearable. The problem was that despite cleaning all the broken glass out of my knee I was also suffering from osteoarthritis. The surfaces of the knee joint were degenerating. Dr. Kimball did his best to smooth the surfaces out while he was in there but there was only so much he could do.

I was fine for a couple of years, but did favor the repaired knee. It was still difficult putting forward pressure on it while descending stairs; I am essentially bone-on-bone with the added bonus of no cartilage behind my kneecap. Ultimately I began to have the same symptoms in my left knee, the pain increased quickly and that broken glass in the knee feeling returned with vengeance. Last year I endured another arthroscopic procedure on my left knee. Unfortunately this time the pain did not seem to subside. The left knee never responded as well to the surgery. The pain from the osteoarthritis trumped the repair. So I just dealt with it.

Just “dealing with it” however deteriorated over the next year. Bending, kneeling and even walking without a limp became a chore. Repeated cortisone shots weren’t cutting it. The next step was to consider complete knee replacements. Work and other considerations delayed that decision for a while. To buy some time I opted for the Synvisc–One injection in each knee until I could work the surgery and the rehab period into my work schedule. For me, Synvisc-One was a bust. The shots were more painful than the quick prick cortisone shots as they had to pierce the synovial membrane. I could feel/hear the small pop when the large needle reached its target. I have a fairly high tolerance to pain but the shots still made me pucker. What exactly the Synvisc shot does and why is a mystery even to the doctors who administer it. It remained a mystery to me as it did absolutely nothing. At $1000 a knee I expected more and got nothing; no relief and no improvement- Oh well!

That was last fall - which brings us to today.

I am anxiously awaiting my DOUBLE knee replacement surgery on March 28^th.  At the recommendation of my friend and doctor, Kirt Kimball, I am having the ConforMIS personalized bi-compartmental knee implant. That’s fancy terminology for “Your knee is so screwed up and disintegrated we had to build you a new joint made from cobalt chromium molybdenum”.

The ConforMIS procedure is explained as follows:

iFit technology converts CT data into implants that are precisely sized and shaped to conform to the unique 3D structure of your joint.

iJig instrumentation uses the same data to create cutting and placement guides that help your surgeon determine the exact placement of your implant.  This reduces surgical time and minimizes the amount of bone cutting required.

S**t! did he say “bone cutting”?  iAm soooo not looking forward to this! And a JIG ? Are you kidding me? You‘ve got to cut my knee open, put a jig on the tip of my femur and tibia then cut the bones to receive my new bionic knee parts. Sheeesh! and Ouuuch!

So it seems everyone I talk to knows someone that has had a knee replacement. The stories are varied but mostly the talk was about how much the Physical Therapy (PT) hurt. “You will hate your therapist”, “They had to put me under a few weeks later to break up the scar tissue”, “You’re going to cry”, “You’re getting both knees done? OUCH”, “Having one knee done is like getting hit by a truck – having two done is having the truck back over you again”. Well thank you everyone for the encouragement.  I’m feeling a lot better now. Marian told me to quit researching and asking people about it. The comment that put me over the edge was (I apologize in advance for this) “You won’t be able to wipe your own butt!” I was really glad to hear that. C’mon, I didn’t need to know that. Of all the talk of pain, discomfort, PT in the Pit of Despair; what is bothering me most is this potty issue. Crap! (No pun intended) SIGH!

So I will work through all of these hurdles and look beyond the actual surgery and initial therapy to a better day sometime in May perhaps, when I can walk normally. The young punks I work with at Adobe said they are all chipping in to get me a Jazzy power chair – I don’t think so! If I have to use a walker they said they would supply the tennis balls to put on the end of the legs – I don’t think so! I feel so loved.

Needless to say I am a bit anxious. I’ve even wondered if I should get a will. HA! We tend to tell ourselves the worst stories. Honestly the pain on the back side of this surgery couldn’t be any worse than what I am feeling every day now. So I will soldier on. I promise to keep sharing – if anyone cares. I have decided what book I am going to read during the ordeal if I am lucid enough from pain killers – Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee.