In a Western Place

Here are some goats. We met them in Pescadero during a day trip last month. They make one helluva delicious chevre.

I’m always encountering new and exciting ways that people choose to spell my first name — the most common being Kristin (which is just plain incorrect). I’ll never get it, “kur, kuuuursten.” Why are you sticking that R before the I?

I just glanced at the sheet outlining my Physical Therapy homework and found one of the more amusing spellings to date, Kirthten. Better than Krithten, I suppose.

I’m recovering marvelously… and quickly! I had an Orthopedic checkup Tuesday morning to have my bandages changed — my first opportunity to leave the house (and see my knee) since last Wednesday. I cannot believe how fast the week flew by (thank you, percocet.) I followed all of my doctor’s orders dutifully: lots of rest, ice and elevation, 24-7 and it paid off! Anterior swelling was minimal and I could see my kneecap! I haven’t been able to see my right kneecap since last May. Icing on the cake, and the elimination of Henry’s grotesque bulge (posterior) is the cherry on top. I’m feeling really good, all over.

My anterior sutures will be removed on Friday and posterior sutures, next week (Henry required a 3-4 inch incision. Bastard.)

Pain management has been easy. The icing machine kept the swelling down, so my dependence on pain medication was low. I should note that the pain (since surgery) never exceeded that which I experienced before going under the scalpel. I cannot believe that I allowed myself to live in such discomfort and pain (not to mention the physical limitations) for as long as I did. I started Physical Therapy today, and even my range of motion is ahead of the class. I’m feeling a little soreness this evening, but that’s to be expected post PT. My Physical Therapist told M and I that I should be off the crutches in 4 weeks. Screw that, give me 1-2.

M has been very instrumental to my success. He’s been waiting on me hand and foot — making all my meals, keeping me hydrated, checking my ice levels, helping me dress, taking on all the household chores, adjusting my pillows — all without a single complaint (maybe I should stay on crutches?) Despite the high Joey torment potential (he prefers to pray for attention at ungodly hours of the night), M’s been sleeping on the couch in the living room to give my immobilized leg most of the bed (we have a guest bedroom???) AND he’s taken a lot of time off work just to drive my gimpy bum to all my appointments. What a guy!

Our house search is on hold while I recover, but we did make a bit of progress in selecting a location. We’ve opted to focus on buying in Oakland. Oakland? Yeah, real estate in SF is absurd (on the bright side, the average listing price has dropped significantly in last month) and we want more for our money, so we’re hopping on the East Bay bandwagon. To better prepare us for our search, we spent last Saturday exploring potential neighborhoods like Rockridge, Piedmont, Millsmont, etc. I took the following images from Oakland Hills, an extremely quiet Redwood coated mountainous section of the city with spectacular views of downtown Oakland, the Bay and San Francisco. It’s perfect, I want to live up here!

I’ve grown to loathe writing (and reading) long, detailed posts… but I thought an essay on my surgical experience might prove to be beneficial for someone contemplating an arthoscopic synovectomy with open excision of popliteal cyst and meniscectomy (try saying that 5 times fast). While I was weighing the pros and cons of surgery, reading (and listening to) personal accounts was very helpful to me. Uplifting, in fact.

At 8:45 AM this morning. I checked into the Campus Surgery Center in Daly City (located across from the Chinese Cemetery — wow, poor city planning there, folks.) As to be expected, I was feeling very nervous, exhausted (from nerves), thirsty and hungry. While in triage, my vitals were checked, my urine was tested and I was administered an antacid, anti nausea medication and Valium. My gown was hooked up to this heating contraption to keep me warm while I sat and waited about an hour before surgery. The Valium kicked in immediately, which made the wait comfortable and anxiety fee.

At 10:30 AM, My surgeon, Anesthesiologist, and surgical nurse met up with me beforehand, marked up my correct right leg, briefed me on the procedure and put my mind at ease. I was escorted by foot into the operating room, which was cold. My hair was tucked into a net and I was instructed to lie down on the table. The room was cluttered with machinery and everyone got busy; one nurse unwrapped and organized all the surgical utensils, another nurse propped my legs onto bolsters and supports while my Anesthesiologist connected various parts of my body to all the appropriate monitors (heart, oxygen and brain!) Unfortunately, my IV had to be inserted into the top of my left hand (ooooh, I much prefer my inner elbow) but he tricked me into coughing to distract me from the discomfort. Everyone on the team had a great sense of humor and they worked diligently to keep me smiling and comfortable. After the “happy” drugs were administered, I felt euphoric, warm, and I could hear an odd buzzing noise in my ears. They turned on some music — Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” I laughed and continued to comment on how awesome I felt, despite looking like a complete octopus (so-many-lines-and-cords). My surgeon walked in and proclaimed with confidence,”We’re going to take care of this, Kirsten!” and I asked if I could have copies of any photos taken during surgery (they did one better, I received a DVD of the procedure!) The rest is a blur; I could see Henry (the cyst) on my MRI from across the room, I asked my Ortho about his trip to Haiti and that was that. I was out. As a matter of fact, I don’t even remember falling asleep, or being told that I would fall asleep. Clearly the happy drugs had some sort of amnesiac effect.

I woke up at after what felt like seconds later feeling very cold and experiencing a strong urge to urinate. My mouth was unbelievably dry and I was shivering uncontrollably. My glasses were on so I could read the clock; it was 14:00 (military time — which I found difficult to comprehend). My surgery went longer than expected, but my Orthopedic wanted to do a super thorough job (I’ll give more details on all that in a later post). I remember telling the nurse that I really wanted to use the bathroom and that I was ready go home. She said it was too soon to get up so she gave me a bed pan. As she worked the bed pan underneath me, the sheet covering my left hand was shifted and we both noticed that it was covered in blood. I had pulled out my own IV (go, me!) Anyway, the bed pan proved to be an impossible feat so the nurse gave me some more warm blankets to hold me over, but I was still shaking from the anesthesia. I kept uttering that I was ready to go home, so the nurse brought in M to comfort me. I felt spaced out, but awake. The urge to pee continued to progress, so they quickly trained me on the crutches and wheeled me into an actual bathroom. My knee brace extends from my ankle to my thigh, so the first pee was a bit of a complicated and messy feat. After I returned to the bed, I was given plenty of juice and a fresh cup of Peet’s coffee. What a treat! Once I received my first dose of percocet (which kicked in super fast) I was dressed and ready to go home. M pulled the car around and I was wheeled into the back seat. M stopped by Boston Market to pick up my first meal of the day, mashed potatoes! I didn’t suffer from any nausea (thank gosh) — so I was eating enchiladas by dinner time.

I almost forgot. While I was resting in recovery, one of the surgical nurses stopped by my bed with a container of solution containing Henry. Henry was being sent off to the lab for a biopsy and I guess I told them that I wanted to say goodbye. He was huge (about the size of a small orange) and completely encapsulated in cartilage. No wonder draining failed. Reminded me of a gigantic cow eyeball, like the ones we dissected in AP Biology. So imagine I, with my small 5′8″ 115 pound frame (on day of surgery) and how much real estate that little bugger was taking up in my knee! Yeah, painful.

M is such a sweetie. He waited in the lobby during my entire procedure and made all my prescription runs. I’m on percocet for pain, an antibiotic for cooties, in addition to a some anti nausea and anti constipation medicine (that I only need to take as needed).

In summary, I feel great. I’m home, connected to this super cool ice machine with my leg elevated. M’s doing a great job taking care of me. The percocet makes me a little slurry, but I feel relaxed. And I’m not at all tired — I think I slept really well during the procedure. The back of my knee (where the large incision was made) is starting to ache a bit — but my next dose of painkillers is soon. My throat is dry and scratchy from the breathing tube (thank gosh I wasn’t awake for that!) and my “groin” area is quite bruised from the nerve blockers (which really freaked me out at first — the entire front of my right leg feels like I was administered a huge shot of novocaine — pins and needles!) I’ve been doing some light stretches to avoid clots because I’m on bed rest for a few days before my post op appointment on Tuesday, then I start physical therapy on Wednesday.

My excellent surgeon told me that I’ll heal fast because I’m strong and willing. I feel kind of silly for making such a fuss over an elective operation, but hey, while it wasn’t major surgery, there were some serious risks. More importantly, it will improve my quality of life significantly. And the support that I’ve received from family, friends, co-workers, my husband and “tweets” kept my spirits high. This journey isn’t over yet, but I already feel as if a huge weight has been lifted.

if you celebrate. I have no idea whose even playing. M is at a party while I’m spending most of my Sunday at the office, trying to get ahead before my week off (I’ll be working from home during the last two weeks of my recovery). It’s a beautiful day, too — however spending time in a quiet, empty office is nice. I even spruced up my workspace a bit. And look, my coffee cozy collection has grown:

My surgery was postponed a week because my surgeon went down to Haiti. Pretty awesome, eh? While it does me proud that I’ve selected such a compassionate ortho-pod, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Naturally the disappointment was short lived — what’s one more week of discomfort and anxiety? Nothing I can’t handle… and geeze, Haiti is in need! In hindsight, I didn’t realize how much of crunch scheduling surgery after a big work deadline would have been. Now I feel as though I have plenty of time to get everything settled before my 3 week hiatus from society.

Anyway, less than a week to go. I’m ready to have my knee back.