Last week I went to call on my Orthopedic Surgeon’s office, because they never tire of my endless visits and subsequent complaints. Bottom line. My knee surgery was over 2 months ago, and I’m no closer to perfecting my cartwheel.
In fact, the basic act of putting one foot in front of the other? Not happening. Without a good deal of pain and mental cursing.
So. My doctor ordered an MRI and blood work. Because even though my knee surgery was rather extensive, I should be much better by now. So something is amiss, and we need to find out what the something is.
I’m far too young to feel this d#@* old.
I’m pretty sure that’s a country western song title. And if not, it should be.
On Friday I had an MRI. Not really knowing what to expect, I went in dressed in my comfy yoga pants. Which is pretty much what I wear EVERYWHERE and ALL THE TIME. I discovered that when you have an MRI, you cannot have any metal on you anywhere. And they make you wear a paper hospital gown.
I’m not down with that paper hospital gown business, so I wisely convinced them that I carried no metal on my person. No underwire (sports bra), and the rest of me was strictly poly/cotton blend. I don’t even have any metal in my teeth.
So all I had to do was roll up my pant leg. Which is a good thing, because evidently, when you have an MRI, the thermostat in the room must be kept set on ARCTIC. They immobilized my knee in this cylinder, shoving foam bricks inside to further make certain that I wouldn’t move. My hatred of the dratted MRI experience only intensified with a white hot heat. As I nearly froze to death.
And then I was rolled into a coffin like tube, with just my head protruding. I was told not to move a muscle. For about 25 minutes. While listening to the deafening sounds of the MRI machine, which sounded very much like the evil that emanated from my Beatles LPs when I would play them backwards on my old close-n-play phonograph.
Hello, my name is Myrtle, and I’m 112 years old.
Since their earphones with the piped in Muzac was broken, all I could do was occupy my mind with what was in my visual sight.
The manufacturer of the MRI machine was called “Siemens”. And whenever life gives you 7 letters, you must play Scrabble.
I configured all manner of words in my mind with the given SIEMENS. The first of course, was the obvious, which normally would give me cause to giggle uncontrollably, but that would mean I would move, thusly forcing my tormentors to start all over. I will not spell out that word, because perverts everywhere would stumble upon my blog using Google.
Besides that word, I came up with MEN, SEEM, SIS, IN, ME, MINE, MESS, and MISS. That occupied about 4 minutes of the allotted time. The rest of the minutes I wiled away constructing my grocery list. Which strangely leaned toward Pop-Tarts and Oreos.
After the MRI, I had more fun by getting my blood work done. Because I don’t give up blood easily, I left with 3 puncture wounds. After all of that, I could do nothing but wait.
Over the weekend, my knee worsened to the point that at about 4 in the morning I wanted to just gnaw off my leg and be done with it. By Monday morning I was completely immobilized, and my leg became non-weight bearing.
Can anyone tell that I watch far too much HGTV?
Another trip to the Doctor on Monday revealed that my blood levels were inflated indicating infection, so a plan was revealed. I am going to be having surgery again on Thursday, so that the doctor can go in with the scope, see what’s going on, biopsy the large amount of fluid, “clean my knee up” (I don’t even want to know), and then put me on antibiotics. I will have to wear a knee-immobilizer afterward.
I’ve got medical news for them. The pain is enough of a knee-immobilizer.
Happily, I’ve been given some very colorful and fun pain killers to get me through the next couple of days, and even stronger more fun pain killers to get me through the night.
So. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know why. If you do hear from me, please know that it’s the rantings of a drugged out lunatic, and try not to be hold it against me. I do still plan to host the Curriculum Round-up on Friday.
I’m not skeert really. I sort of know what to expect…ANOTHER DRAIN ATTACHED TO MY KNEE…WOOHOO! And in all seriousness, I’ll be relieved to know what is going on and what I can do to propel myself toward my dreams of an olympic future. Or at least be able to chase my kids down.
And really, a surgery to two always makes for good blog fodder. (I have a new video camera I’m reviewing, and I’ll attempt to document much of the journey. As long as I’m lucid. For your viewing pleasure.)