The one where I attempt to conquer sheer terror

On March 31, I did it. To be factual, I didn’t actually do it, but committed to it. Come to think of it, I didn’t even commit…..I just let them pick a date for it to be done seven weeks a three days from then. How I went from seeing the orthopedist about pain management for my knee and ending up with a surgery date for total knee replacement, I have no idea. I do know that Tracy, the physicians assistant, ended up just handing me the box of tissues because I couldn’t control my emotions. By the time she brought in the surgeon, I was starting the wailing all over again.

In the last 25-1/2 years, I have had a c-section, gall bladder removed, repair of a strangulated hernia, a complete hysterectomy, and cataracts removed from both eyes with iol’s implanted. I am no stranger to surgery, hospitals, and recovery. The cataract surgery scared me because I did not understand how I would not see scalpels and stuff doing evil things to my eye. Reassurance from everyone who had undergone the procedure didn’t help, consequently, it took a lot of Versed for the first eye, and one dose for the second (since I was an old pro and all.) This time, however, I am terrified.

Once again, I know at least a dozen people who have had successful TKRs, and they have all assured me that it is well worth it. I have no doubt of that, but after literally spending many completely sleepless nights with my son after his three knee surgeries, seeing the level of pain he went thru for ACL, meniscus, and kneecap repair, I am practically frozen with fear about having parts of my bones cut, shaved, and replaced with mechanicals that will have to probably be screwed into surviving bone.

I am a big baby when it comes to pain. I hate it and cannot bear even a paper cut. That said, the amount of knee pain osteoarthritis has produced sent me for my first cortosteroid shot in September 2014 and every 3-4 months after that. Last year, they basically quit working, and not only was the mere act of walking crippling to my knee, but because of how I limped, became crippling to my lower back as well. I can now no longer make a sandwich without sitting down halfway thru, and the 15 stair steps from the bedroom level to the living level are some days completely impossible. At night the pain is so intense I’d play solitaire on the computer from 11 until 5-6am, then grab some sleep until 10 out of sheer exhaustion. Facing extreme pain on a daily basis, finally let me say yes to the surgery to give me a bionic knee, despite the terror it invokes in my heart and mind.

They tell me that because of the steep stairs at home, I will probably spend a couple of weeks in a rehab facility, until (a) they feel I can come down all 15 without going ass over teakettle, or (b) Medicare/Blue Cross reaches their limit. After all the rehab places my dad went to, I am NOT looking forward to that scenario no matter how pretty they are. Like Eric, when the pain got the best of him, I want immediate relief. I do not want strangers to hand me the pill I asked for two hours ago then walk off to their computer game. A friend of my son is a therapist and told Eric that I need to get placed where he works. I need to talk with Curtis myself and learn from him what to expect/look for in case they are not on my doctor’s list.

One thing I know that I don’t want is visitors and that includes family. I remember being in a drugged haze after other surgeries, and feeling like I had to entertain the people who were there, when all I wanted to do was to be left alone to sleep, watch tv, or read. A patient has precious little time to themselves while hospitalized and for me, visitors are worse than being awakened every three or four hours for vitals. It’s probably why I tend to stay away from hospital visits when friends or family are patients. So, when late May and early June get here, before you ask what you can do or bring me, my answer is peace and quiet. It’s not that I don’t like/love you….it’s because I don’t want to feel like I am a sideshow attraction in the circus, there for people to watch and for me to entertain them with witty conversation when all I want to do is scream with pain or frustration.

I am ready for this (kinda.) I have a new knee length robe, hospital appropriate pajamas, and sneakers for twice a days while I am in the hospital. I have already determined what comfortable clothes to take to rehab. I have a stockpile of books on the Kindle, and my Amazon Fire to keep in touch with everyone. I have even given Tom’s number to the kid who mows our lawn so he can remind Tom to leave him payment. I am not taking my phone. Email will work just fine, because I can answer it when I feel like it. Between the hard work that I know therapy will be, and making sure Tom and Eric fend off visitors, I am going to treat this like a spa vacation, then come August when I hopefully am driving again (my right knee is the ornery critter in question), I am scheduling myself for a real one.