Had first real session of physio today. After pulling my knee about and then dragging me into the gym to install me on the bike to get my knee moving, the physio then confiscated one of my crutches and got me walking using just one as light support.
Using one crutch is a lot easier. My knee did ache after the going over it got today, but then the physio said that was to be expected as we need to build the muscles up. I have been give a couple of exercises which I need to carry out three times a day.
It's got to be said, I could not get over how scary it was when the physio took one of the crutches away. I have been trying to put more weight on that leg recently, but making a conscious decision to do so did slow me down as I had to work at it. To then walk with just one after four weeks was really unnerving. It just goes to show how reliant on them you can become.
I have weekly sessions of physio scheduled for the next four weeks, plus my instructions to work on the knee in between. Though my knee is sore, I feel a lot better in myself. The crutches were dragging me down mentally, I felt limited by them, almost claustrophobic.
Next step, to be off crutches completely, and then to be able to drive!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday 23 November 2010
Tuesday 16 November 2010
Quick note
I have been taking photos of my knee ever since the nurse came round and changed the dressing the morning after my surgery. People think I'm weird and a bit gruesome, and I can deny neither quirk of character, to a degree.
However, on evenings like this, it is helpful. I took the last dressing off of my knee earlier and was examining the scar. At a passing glance it doesn't look like it has healed much since I first had it done.
However, when I pull up the photo of it from last week (taken after the sadistic nurse removed stitches!) I can really see the changes. They are not obvious at a passing glance, but by comparing the scar and the photo side by side (the wonders of an iPhone!) the improvements are obvious.
When you can see the changes that have taken place already, it helps you to focus on going forward by showing how much has happened already. Photos make it something tangible.
Someone I know who had surgery two weeks before me (though hers was a lot more extensive) said that we will get there "day by day" My taking photos, however gruesome, is so that I can see whether or not I am getting there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
However, on evenings like this, it is helpful. I took the last dressing off of my knee earlier and was examining the scar. At a passing glance it doesn't look like it has healed much since I first had it done.
However, when I pull up the photo of it from last week (taken after the sadistic nurse removed stitches!) I can really see the changes. They are not obvious at a passing glance, but by comparing the scar and the photo side by side (the wonders of an iPhone!) the improvements are obvious.
When you can see the changes that have taken place already, it helps you to focus on going forward by showing how much has happened already. Photos make it something tangible.
Someone I know who had surgery two weeks before me (though hers was a lot more extensive) said that we will get there "day by day" My taking photos, however gruesome, is so that I can see whether or not I am getting there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Friday 12 November 2010
Challenges
Today was another first, back to work for the first time since my op. Mark was on earlies, so he came out of work to pick me up.
I thought it would be relatively easy returning to work, I have a desk job "pushing paper" after all, so I didn't think it would be too difficult. In fact I have felt like a fraud for the last week and half. Because I felt quite well in myself, I thought I ought to be back in the office.
This morning was semi ok, though I did struggle because I couldn't get my knee comfortable, and consequently it started to ache, badly. I don't think I was overdoing it, one of my staff went to great lengths to ensure I was well supplied with tea, bless her. Not elevating my leg did start to take it's toll and by the time Mark was ready to finish work, I had had enough, so I came home with him.
Apart from feeling like a wimp because i couldn't manage a full day at work, the issue I have had this week is that my calf muscle feels sore, like I have strained it. It's quite scary because it is making it difficult to rest my foot flat on the ground, and it has felt really sore this afternoon to a point it had me in tears. I want to be off crutches in six weeks, and I'm scared this is going to set me back. How can I get off crutches when I can't put my foot flat on the ground in order to start weight bearing?
I have had my leg up on the settee all afternoon and this evening I have had a hot water bottle on my calf. I know that warmth doesn't ease the problem and that if it's a strain then I need to ice it to alleviate it, but it felt so painful earlier, I just wanted it to stop.
I guess this weekend is going to be a case of resting it as much as possible.
When I changed the dressing yesterday I took another photo.
It seems to be healing ok. Something I was a bit surprised at when I got home from hospital was the patches of bruising that I had on my leg, and more specifically round my inner ankle.
This photo of the bruising was taken yesterday, two weeks after the surgery, and the discolouration looks like it is in the final stages. I couldn't work out why on earth I would have bruising round my ankle when my knee was the source of the surgery. Then when I thought about it, I realised it's like the ripple effect, where you throw a stone in a pond and the ripples travel outwards. The surgeon drilled the femur and the tibia in order to insert the graft and I guess the impact from the drilling into my tibia must have dispersed along my tibia to my ankle, showing as bruising.
I had this mental image of the surgeon with the heel of my foot resting against his shoulder, drilling into my knee with a Black & Decker drill!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I thought it would be relatively easy returning to work, I have a desk job "pushing paper" after all, so I didn't think it would be too difficult. In fact I have felt like a fraud for the last week and half. Because I felt quite well in myself, I thought I ought to be back in the office.
This morning was semi ok, though I did struggle because I couldn't get my knee comfortable, and consequently it started to ache, badly. I don't think I was overdoing it, one of my staff went to great lengths to ensure I was well supplied with tea, bless her. Not elevating my leg did start to take it's toll and by the time Mark was ready to finish work, I had had enough, so I came home with him.
Apart from feeling like a wimp because i couldn't manage a full day at work, the issue I have had this week is that my calf muscle feels sore, like I have strained it. It's quite scary because it is making it difficult to rest my foot flat on the ground, and it has felt really sore this afternoon to a point it had me in tears. I want to be off crutches in six weeks, and I'm scared this is going to set me back. How can I get off crutches when I can't put my foot flat on the ground in order to start weight bearing?
I have had my leg up on the settee all afternoon and this evening I have had a hot water bottle on my calf. I know that warmth doesn't ease the problem and that if it's a strain then I need to ice it to alleviate it, but it felt so painful earlier, I just wanted it to stop.
I guess this weekend is going to be a case of resting it as much as possible.
When I changed the dressing yesterday I took another photo.
It seems to be healing ok. Something I was a bit surprised at when I got home from hospital was the patches of bruising that I had on my leg, and more specifically round my inner ankle.
This photo of the bruising was taken yesterday, two weeks after the surgery, and the discolouration looks like it is in the final stages. I couldn't work out why on earth I would have bruising round my ankle when my knee was the source of the surgery. Then when I thought about it, I realised it's like the ripple effect, where you throw a stone in a pond and the ripples travel outwards. The surgeon drilled the femur and the tibia in order to insert the graft and I guess the impact from the drilling into my tibia must have dispersed along my tibia to my ankle, showing as bruising.
I had this mental image of the surgeon with the heel of my foot resting against his shoulder, drilling into my knee with a Black & Decker drill!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday 10 November 2010
Sadism
Two weeks today since I had my knee reconstructed. It was scary how the time leading up to the op flew by, and the last two weeks has moved at a fairly reasonable pace as well.
I am signed on back for work on Friday (tad nervous about it, to be honest) and my next physio appointment isn't until the 23rd.
To mark the two week anniversary of the surgeon threading a new tendon into my knee joint, I celebrated in rather a unique way - by having the stitches out.
I think the word "celebrate" and the term "removal of stitches" are not compatible in any shape or form! Unless you are into sadomasochism, which, by the way, I'm not. No way, no how.
Everyone has different experiences of stitches. Some say they just tickled when they were removed, others purse their lips in that, mechanic under the bonnet of your old banger of a car "this is going to cost you", kind of way. Others offer to do it for you!
The NHS has a lot to answer for. They could, kindly providing delicate tools for the job of removing stitches of which Sweeney Todd would be proud, which wouldn't break the budget. Instead, blunt, heavy, clumsy tweezers and the stainless steel equivalent of Grandma's old crochet hook are standard issue and self evident that the NHS is scrimping in whichever way is possible.
If I could have taken the stitches out myself, I would have done, as the tolerance level for self-inflicted pain is higher than that inflicted by someone else. Indeed, I did quickly make the request (which was denied) after the nurse began to prod my knee with the crochet hook like you would poke a piece of half cooked beef, in an effort to locate the end of the first stitch.
She advised that the skin had started to heal over and around the stitches, which did lead me to wonder why on earth they had decided to wait the full two weeks in order to remove them.
My charitable side thought it might be because everyone's healing process is different. The not so charitable side of me being subjected to the exquisite sensation of having the stitches taken out, was inclined to believe that it's because they want to keep the number of outpatient appointments to an absolute minimum to cut on costs, even if it means torturing patients in any number of ways to achieve this.
Despite being of a sadistic nature, and obviously unaccustomed to using the garden shed tools, the nurse thankfully didn't prolong the wondrous process, so after a number of deep breaths and holding on to the couch with hands so tight my knuckles turned white (by me!) she succeeded in removing the stitches.
Having those removed hurt more than the anaesthetist installing the canula in my hand prior to surgery. And for someone who hates those gadgets with a passion, that is definitely saying something.
Continuing with my tradition of adding gross pictures, below is the last picture of my undressed knee before the stitches were removed. I will add another photo tomorrow when I change the dressing!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I am signed on back for work on Friday (tad nervous about it, to be honest) and my next physio appointment isn't until the 23rd.
To mark the two week anniversary of the surgeon threading a new tendon into my knee joint, I celebrated in rather a unique way - by having the stitches out.
I think the word "celebrate" and the term "removal of stitches" are not compatible in any shape or form! Unless you are into sadomasochism, which, by the way, I'm not. No way, no how.
Everyone has different experiences of stitches. Some say they just tickled when they were removed, others purse their lips in that, mechanic under the bonnet of your old banger of a car "this is going to cost you", kind of way. Others offer to do it for you!
The NHS has a lot to answer for. They could, kindly providing delicate tools for the job of removing stitches of which Sweeney Todd would be proud, which wouldn't break the budget. Instead, blunt, heavy, clumsy tweezers and the stainless steel equivalent of Grandma's old crochet hook are standard issue and self evident that the NHS is scrimping in whichever way is possible.
If I could have taken the stitches out myself, I would have done, as the tolerance level for self-inflicted pain is higher than that inflicted by someone else. Indeed, I did quickly make the request (which was denied) after the nurse began to prod my knee with the crochet hook like you would poke a piece of half cooked beef, in an effort to locate the end of the first stitch.
She advised that the skin had started to heal over and around the stitches, which did lead me to wonder why on earth they had decided to wait the full two weeks in order to remove them.
My charitable side thought it might be because everyone's healing process is different. The not so charitable side of me being subjected to the exquisite sensation of having the stitches taken out, was inclined to believe that it's because they want to keep the number of outpatient appointments to an absolute minimum to cut on costs, even if it means torturing patients in any number of ways to achieve this.
Despite being of a sadistic nature, and obviously unaccustomed to using the garden shed tools, the nurse thankfully didn't prolong the wondrous process, so after a number of deep breaths and holding on to the couch with hands so tight my knuckles turned white (by me!) she succeeded in removing the stitches.
Having those removed hurt more than the anaesthetist installing the canula in my hand prior to surgery. And for someone who hates those gadgets with a passion, that is definitely saying something.
Continuing with my tradition of adding gross pictures, below is the last picture of my undressed knee before the stitches were removed. I will add another photo tomorrow when I change the dressing!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday 8 November 2010
Healing
Day Thirteen. I've not made as much noticeable progress over the last five or six days, but then I'm not sure I am supposed to. We went down to Somerset on Thursday afternoon as Mark had business to attend to in Salisbury on Friday.
Before we went I had my first physio appointment. The physio was reluctant to pull my knee about too much because I have got stitches and they are not due to be taken out until this Wednesday. He asked how long I was signed off for, and didn't query my returning to work this Friday.
On the Friday before last I visited the clinic as the hospital had specified the dressing should be changed either then or on the next (last) Monday. The clinic couldn't understand the need for the change, but they did it anyway. They also said I wasn't to change the dressing again myself as it should be ok until the stitches were to be taken out.
Well, I have put tape on the top bit of the dressing as the adhesive had started to go home, and I have replaced the dressing myself this evening. I couldn't wait until Wednesday and I thought leaving it exposed (dressing not sealed properly) was just as dangerous if not more so than changing it myself.
I made sure my hands were clean and I didn't touch the skin when I replaced the dressing. I couldn't resist it, I did take a photo of the scar, and I was pleased to see it appears to be healing relatively well.
It's not going to be the prettiest knee, but then it never was, so no loss there! Not looking forward to having the stitches out though :-(
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Before we went I had my first physio appointment. The physio was reluctant to pull my knee about too much because I have got stitches and they are not due to be taken out until this Wednesday. He asked how long I was signed off for, and didn't query my returning to work this Friday.
On the Friday before last I visited the clinic as the hospital had specified the dressing should be changed either then or on the next (last) Monday. The clinic couldn't understand the need for the change, but they did it anyway. They also said I wasn't to change the dressing again myself as it should be ok until the stitches were to be taken out.
Well, I have put tape on the top bit of the dressing as the adhesive had started to go home, and I have replaced the dressing myself this evening. I couldn't wait until Wednesday and I thought leaving it exposed (dressing not sealed properly) was just as dangerous if not more so than changing it myself.
I made sure my hands were clean and I didn't touch the skin when I replaced the dressing. I couldn't resist it, I did take a photo of the scar, and I was pleased to see it appears to be healing relatively well.
It's not going to be the prettiest knee, but then it never was, so no loss there! Not looking forward to having the stitches out though :-(
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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