Four weeks ago, I had a total knee replacement. It has been a real roller coaster and the more people I talk to, I’ve found there’s a wide range of how this goes for everyone. I’m writing about it here for a few reasons. I’ve heard from people who want to know how it’s going so if you’re interested, here’s a rambling account of that. Also, I am curious to see how this plays out in the coming weeks and months. Sometimes it’s easy to gloss over how painful a thing was in hindsight and I’m writing this honest account partly for my own sake, too. Because eventually, I need to make a decision about the other knee, too.
Physically, I’m told I am doing very well. I began attempting the at-home exercises the day after surgery and started PT a few days later. The discomfort has been pretty high. I’ve always thought I had a high tolerance for pain – and maybe I do? – but this has been incredible and not in a John Davidson That’s Incredible sort of way. (Reference in case you don’t know what I’m talking about https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/That%27s_Incredible!)
A side of me likes to be blissfully unaware of certain things about my physical health so I can’t recite how many degrees I’ve been able to bend my knee, both assisted and unassisted. When it comes to medical stuff, I mostly do what I’m supposed to do to get better, but I don’t need all the details nor do I need to know what’s going on inside my knee. My last day playing organ in church before surgery, a guy said to me, “did you look up the surgery on Youtube?” When I responded that I haven’t, he said, “DON’T!” That being said, I admit getting a little thrill seeing an x-ray of my new knee at my two-week follow-up.
I’ve had a lot of emotions about how limited I’ve been in these last few years, going from doing 2-3 half-marathons a year for the last decade to finishing almost last in a 10K last year. I’ve managed to remain active in other ways after I stopped running a year ago because I love exercising, even if sometimes I’ve pushed it to unhealthy limits at some points in my life.
I’ve also felt judged about my need for this procedure. “Do you think the running caused this?” is the most common accusation. Well, I don’t know. I think people of all shapes, sizes, and activity levels need this.
In the best possible case, this surgery comes with a possibility that I might be able to run a little bit again. Even at a basic level, doing simple things like genuflecting in church, walking on stairs, or standing up from the floor, might be possible without feeling like swords are going through my knee cap. In the last year, I’ve done a little more weight training than I had before and might want to more fully explore that when I’m back on my feet again.
I’m doing reasonably well physically and am even a little ahead of schedule. In the beginning of PT, the pain was so incredibly excruciating, I worried I might black out or vomit. With the help of a skilled physical therapist who has tolerated me crying for literally no reason several times, I think I’m going to make it. At least, I hope so. In my third week of physical therapy, I was able to ride a stationary bike and push 70 pounds on a leg press machine among other things I did not think were possible.
There are many things I still cannot do well. Getting dressed or taking a shower or cooking a thing on the stove or walking from one room to the other all take twice as long as they should. I often need to sit down and ice my knee after these minor activities.
In addition, I have not slept for more than an hour at a time since June 5th, the night before the surgery. I am in discomfort at night, move around in my sleep, and immediately wake up. After three hours or so, I am unable to return to sleep so I will wander into the living room to avoid disturbing my husband more than I already have.
On the couch in the middle of the night, I ruminate about all the discomfort, all the time this is taking, and then all the typical insomniac sort of thoughts pop into my head – that crappy thing i said to someone back in 1989, the fact that I never returned a library book in high school, my regret about not spending more time practicing when I was younger, worrying what all this Tylenol is doing to my liver, wondering why I did this to myself. The lack of sleep drives me bonkers. I might fall asleep here and there for a couple of hours and then repeat this cycle every single night.
I do battle in my head about what has been more difficult: the physical discomfort or the emotional piece of this. I’m obviously more interested in the emotional piece of it. But I have also never encountered physical pain like this. And it feels never-ending. I’m no hero, but I stopped taking the heavy drugs within a couple of days after the surgery. And when I did, I started feeling like I was freaking out in my mind. I have a smallish kid in the house and I’ve worked very hard to be normal around him. I do not want him to see his mom in pain or suffering emotionally. But my poor spouse has tolerated me freaking the F out about OMG am I withdrawing from these stupid pills and how much longer is this sh*t going to take.
My husband really deserves a shout-out for taking care of me and it’s always been in his character to do so. He’s worked from home to help drive me to PT and medical appointments the first couple of weeks and to administer and track my medications, bring me food, and make sure my knee was amply iced. He’s also taken care of our child as his school year came to an end and play dates, camp, parties, and activities have increased.
I have been very surprised about how emotionally off I have been since the surgery. The word I have used from the beginning is “malaise”. My stomach feels all off and I’ve had a headache for the last several weeks and those feelings have contributed to my not feeling great emotionally. I’ve been fortunate to not have been a sick person so being down for a few days is the extent of my experience with illness. Even childbirth was an easier experience than this.
I’ve been distracted by discomfort and was warned of this by my surgeon when I told him I was planning to only take two weeks off from seeing patients. He was very right when he said I may not have the ability to sustain attention and I ended up taking three weeks off. If I go forward and do the other knee someday as I need to, I will take much more time off from work than I did.
This is also one of the first experiences of my life where I really do not give a crap about certain things. Generally, I take pride on pulling my appearance together to go out, but in the last 30 days, I do not care. (If you haven’t seen this hilarious woman with the We Don’t Care Club videos, please check her out: https://www.instagram.com/justbeingmelani/?hl=en. I have avoided discussing menopause in this post, but like this woman, I can’t deny that’s a factor in my mental health right now, too.)
I have worn sweat pants and exercise pants and sloppy t-shirts with a jacked-up old manicure and inches of gray roots showing in my hair. I had to remove my toenail polish before surgery and can’t get a fresh pedicure because I can’t bend my leg to put it into the tub nor can my bandage get submerged yet. I returned to my office last week and wore makeup for the first time and a nice blouse, but I wore sweat pants and running shoes because I can’t risk tripping wearing flip-flops like I typically do.
So much stuff simply just has to wait. Sometimes mentally, it bubbles up and I worry about getting behind on this or that thing in my life. A bill I have to pay or a phone call I need to return…I just can’t right now. Due to my naïveté about what I anticipated this pain would be like, I thought I would be capable of catching up on all sorts of things in life: writing projects, work-related blog posts and marketing content for my website, leisure reading, even taking walks. But I just can’t. This is just where I’m at right now. And frequently, I have to pull the lens back and say, not today.
Finally, this experience has also been isolating and lonely at times. It has been so heart-warming to receive messages from people asking how I am. I’ve received thoughtful expressions of cards and flowers and I want it known how much these things have meant to me. My hope is that it allows me to cheer and support others dealing with something like this. And because I’ve been on the receiving end of an impatient driver or two as I’ve limped through crosswalks, it’s helping me be a little more empathetic to people who have trouble walking quickly.
Thanks for reading this rambling post!