Partying it up during my inevitably long recovery

So, I’m alive.

I just wish I didn’t have this lovely reminder all night long with my drug-induced insomnia.

I awoke early yesterday to fastidiously shave my knee before surgery. I’m not what one could call vain but apparently I am as it pertains to unsightly knee hairs. Turns out I was better off with a bit of stubble because I gashed my knee.

So kind of me to give Dr. Stahl a headstart in the process.

Knee surgery went fine. Given my recent stint in the hospital for chest pains, getting my knee fixed was the lesser of the many medical evils we’ve endured in 2011. I tore my meniscus two years ago and had my first round of appointments almost a year ago.

By the time I was admitted for surgery yesterday, the staff at Panorama Orthopedic Surgeons & Spine Center kept asking if I was nervous. “No, I just want this to be over with,” I repeated over and over again. And I meant it.

I’m not a person who needs a lot of hand-holding. I insisted Jamie drop me off, go home and work (he’s as overloaded as usual), pick-up Bode late-morning, take him to Seanie’s and reconnect with me in the recovery room (mine was an out-patient procedure and I was home by early-afternoon). Jamie initially insisted upon being there but I was firm.

“Listen, all you’re going to do is waste time sitting in the waiting room for four hours.”

“But what if you need me for something, like an emergency blood transfusion?”

“No offense, Honey. But you’re the LAST person’s blood I’d ever want to have.”

We’re no Edward and Bella.

One of the few nice things about having a husband who’s a medical disaster is he’s been through it before and knows the right questions to ask the doctor. Problem was, the doc and his PA never bothered to do a follow-up after the surgery and the recovery room staff was clueless. It was one of the many things that ticked me off about the sub-par care I received. Call me crazy but if I’m dumping thousands of dollars into a procedure, I’d at least like to know how it went.

But in the end, the only thing that matters is if they were able to fix the knee and that has yet to be determined. My follow-up appointment is next Thursday.

In the interim, I’m outfitted with some nifty ice packs and thigh-high anti- embolism T.E.D. stockings for the next 10 days (try sleeping with a girdle on your legs). But thank heavens for the Vicodin. I’ve been taking it regularly and had minimal pain until about midnight. Three hours later, I’m wired but my pain is in check.

I’m thinking taking an upper + bedrest will not = a restful combination for me. Hopefully I’ll finally get some sleep when the kids are in school.

I have some swell friends from church who are bringing over dinners and Jamie has been taking good care of me. Mostly. He outfitted my room with a nice rose, plenty of DVDs and snacks. He works from his den in the basement and has graciously accepted my many requests via cell. His only failure was when I couldn’t reach him about cranking up the air-conditioning so I told the kids: “Go tell Daddy it’s too hot up here.”

He started to reply he already turned on the air until he double-checked and realized he had accidentally cranked up the heat. Did I mention it’s still upper 90s in Denver, that our upstairs is already a sauna and I’m wearing a leg girdle?

It’s gonna be a long recovery for all of us. ;)

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