It’s been three years. As I remember my father doing, I’ve battled knee pain. (My father called his “Arthur.”) I’ve stretched, I’ve exercised, I’ve applied ointments, I’ve taken pain steadily increasing meds, and I have limped.
In 2014, just a couple of months before a long-anticipated trip to France, I fell on a step into the kitchen while I was bringing in an armful of herbs from the garden. Sore and worried about being unable to enjoy our trip, I saw an orthopedist. The X-rays and MRI he ordered showed fairly advanced arthritis. I did a few weeks of physical therapy and I began taking medication for the pain, and it worked. We had a great trip, including walking around Paris and southern France.
Since then, I’ve been like the frog in the pot. Although it’s been up and down, the trend line on the pain has been upward and I have become less mobile. I resisted the idea of knee replacement because I was always able to convince myself that the pain wasn’t too bad and that I could still do most of what I wanted to do. But my gardens suffered, the walking-for-exercise dwindled, the walking-for-fun was less fun, and I was always in some level of pain.
Finally in August I knew that the time had come. New x-rays showed bone on bone. There was another vacation on my schedule, to northern California, so when the new orthopedist confirmed that I was absolutely a candidate for knee replacement, I decided to delay for a few weeks. That vacation was also wonderful. San Francisco is not an easy place for someone who doesn’t like walking, so I relied on Uber. I didn’t want to forego the Monterey Aquarium or SF MOMA, so I reluctantly sat in a wheelchair, pain-free but self-conscious.
On Tuesday October 24th I checked into surgery at Mercy St. V’s and checked out of consciousness for a couple of hours. I’m still battered, bruised, swollen and sore but the trend line is toward less pain and more mobility. My physical therapist is pushing me. My family is watching over me. My friends are feeding me (and the fam).
I’m on the mend, and grateful for it.
Wishing you a speedy recovery!
Wishing you a complete recovery so that you can get back to doing all of the things you love so much.
Snap! I thought about your impending surgery yesterday. I had planned to email you and ask when it was. I hope it brings you the relief mine brought me.
You’ll grow to hate your physical therapist but if you do everything he or she says , you won’t regret it and you won’t walk like Chester.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery! I’ll coordinate with Polly on a meal.
Johnetta
Thanks, Johnetta. So far I don’t hate my physical therapist(s) but I DO hate the compression stockings. I’m a very compliant patient and I am committed to regaining strength and balance .