....said my doctor as he came into my exam room yesterday.
I corrected him. "For alliteration sake, I believe you mean, "the man, the myth, the moron'".
He didn't correct me. Nor should he have.
I had my three week post-op visit with my surgeon. It went ok. Nothing completely out of the ordinary. I'm not exemplary in my recovery, nor am I a cautionary tale - except for maybe how to run. Or how not to.
My dressing came off permanently. Yay. One less thing to worry about or to get in the way of showering at the very least. Disposable stitches will disappear on their own over time.
He likes where I am in range of motion at this point and time, though I told him how sore I am with my latest physical therapy exercises. So he had me do some, but man they hurt.
He went on to tell how shocked the muscles are from the fall. The impact went through the muscles, the cartilage, fascia and then bone and back out the other side of those layers. He said it will take some time to "wake up" the muscles.
I had started to go over my surgical notes, and while I'm not squeamish, I opted to pause reading when they said something about using a "band saw". I'm sure at some point I'll go back and read it all. Right now, there is too much PTSD for me.
That OR must have been like an auto body shop - me up on the lift with drills, saws and whatnot working away on me. And a robot. I know some of the surgery was done robotically.
Not that it crossed my mind or worried me, but after taking out the nine screws they did do pathology on them. It never occurred to me why. Since they had them, they looked for any sign of cancer that might have returned. It has not. All clear.
We didn't even bother talking the future that wasn't my next visit. Three weeks before I can drive. Three weeks before I can give up the walker. Three weeks before I can work. Three weeks before I can start outpatient physical therapy. Then another three months of that - and still limited movement until December.
Most likely at beginning of next month I will move to a cane, but only for a short while. The cane doesn't make me look nearly as addled as a walker. At least I don't have tennis balls on the walker.............yet.
Today is my last home PT. I'll still do exercises twice per day until outpatient starts. I move better than I did. I ache less than I did. There is still weird transitions on the stairs from walker to crutch and back.
I do reflect back on how worse this all could have all been. While I'm 97% sure I didn't lose consciousness, it could have been easy to do - along with a concussion and losing some teeth. It's the silver lining, I guess. The idea of oral surgery is much worse to me than a new hip.
So........progress, I guess. 710 loves how far I've come, but I feel he's just placating me to a degree. He's trying to keep my spirits up - and for that it's appreciated. I'm not saying it's doing the job, but I recognize the effort.
Honestly, this first three weeks have kind of wizzed by. I'm hoping the next three do as well.
Song by: ABC
4 comments:
710 is your dream come true. A gem among men , your surgeon obviously finds you very brave and not run of the mill. Hang in there Blobby , it’s working.
See to your mental health! Your body and mind have been through trauma. I shall remain anonymous!
Other doctors make jokes about orthopedics and there workshop of tools. The YouTube videos are not for the faint of heart. Keep up the work. And I agree with anonymous, talk to your shrink and work through the experience. I was told because I "was expected make a reasonably full recovery, my insurance wouldn't pay for counseling." I should have melted down, then it would have paid.
Take care of yourself emotionally and mentally as well as physically. You have yourself a good husband there, as you well know.
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