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Home from the hospital all in one piece (sort of)
- Thread starter Kathryn
- Start date
I am certainly glad the surgery went well. Hang in there with the recovery and take good care of yourself. And if people want to wait on you, let them.
:balloons:
:balloons:
Kathryn
It was on fire when I laid down on it.
I have had numerous surgeries on both knees at the same time so I know EXACTLY what you are describing about with the shower.
My hubby made me this fantastic contraption (think 2x10 board with carpet on it) that is long enough it reaches either side of the tub (with extra room so I don't slip it into the tub on accident). It makes me higher than a regular shower stool thing and it allows me to pivot a little more gracefully
Glad you got your toes done. That would have been one of my suggestions because cute toes make you feel a little better while the rest of you looks not so great.
I checked out your blog and so far it has been great! Keep it up and get well soon. :hug:
Thank you so much for your encouragement and ideas. Feel free to add them to the blog!
Speaking of toes, here's today's riveting entry:
First of all, lest anyone think that I am a crass, unladylike person, I want to post, as evidence that I AM a lady, a photo, taken today with my new camera (thank you, Michael - you excellent caretaker, you!):
These are my feet. Notice the pedicure (fresh and unchipped) as well as the generally excellent shape of the feet (if you disregard the whole ankle thing, which I do admit rather undermines my assertion that I take great care of my hooves!). Yes, in spite of all my recent traumas, my priorities are still intact.
Every good Southern gal who spends nine months out of each year decked out in adorable sandals (all of us) will tell you that regardless of circumstances - surgery, divorce, identity theft, you name it - the measure of a woman's character is manifested in the condition of her toenails. If you see one of us with jacked up toenails, you know that our life is spiraling out of control, and that we are probably not in full control of our faculties. Or we're a horrible, irresponsible skank. One or the other.
So - I am about to talk about things often considered unladylike - but when you start to think to yourself, "Honestly, what sort of woman discusses these things in public?" - remember that these toenails testify that I am indeed a lady.
What I want to talk about today is...constipation. See, no one warned me about this possible complication of my achilles tendon drama and subsequent surgery. Had I known the possible severity of this matter, I may have seriously considered hobbling around for the rest of my life in return for, errrr, "regularity."
Couple of causes:
1. Surgery and anesthesia - these often cause constipation. How I overlooked that pertinent information in the weeks and weeks that I read every website online regarding this surgery, I will never know.
2. Vicodin (and some other common pain relievers). Hey - these innocent looking little orbs slow down everything - and I do mean EVERYTHING.
3. Inactivity - if you do nothing, you DO nothing. Hmmm, let's see - I went from working full time, volunteer work, art projects (very physical, since most of my projects are murals and require ladders), globe trotting (my kids and grandkids are scattered all over the globe), walking large and undisciplined dogs, attending concerts (the type that involve lots of jumping up and down and dancing in the aisle) - to sitting on a sofa for days and days and days. It was sort of like this:
4. Weird food - and no food. Surgery and then enforced immobility creates a ripple effect throughout your life. One of these ripples for me is that my diet has changed tremendously in the past week. When I say "tremendously," I do not mean that the changes have been tremendous, as in "great." All I mean is that the changes have been SWEEPING. I didn't realize till now just how much my intestinal fortitude depended, apparently, on eating a Subway salad nearly every day. That ain't happenin' - in fact, not much eating at all has been happenin'. I guess that anesthesia, and then other meds, must be serious appetite depressants. Oh, that and the fact that I am probably burning a total of 300 calories a day right now.
When one relies on others to bring food to the sofa, there's really no telling what may show up at one's fingertips. Personally, I hate asking other people to do anything for me, so usually when Michael has said, "Honey, are you hungry for anything?" I've either said, "No, not really," (which we all know REALLY means, "Yes, quite,") or "Well, what's easy?" To which he's replied:
"Ummm, how 'bout some olives?"
"Well, there are some apples in here."
"I guess I could get you some more cottage cheese, but I don't see how you eat that crap."
OK, I'm exxagerating. He's actually COOKED dinner nearly every evening (and done a fine job of it), and even when he simply brings me a sliced apple and cheese, he arranges the slices artistically (which never ceases to amaze me). But regardless of all his efforts, there's really nothing quite like standing at the refrigerator while holding a bag of Doritos, idly munching while perusing the cornucopia of American abundance - and then acting accordingly and with great abandon.
The end result has been that for the past week, I've eaten a lot less, and what I HAVE eaten is not what I usually eat. And there you have it - the perfect intestinal plugger upper.
I first began to realize there could be a problem about three days ago, as I slowly emerged from my fog of pain and meds. No problem - just eat prunes, right? Apparently not. And now I had added a handful of prunes to whatever else was accumulating. So the next day, I ate apples and drank lots of water - and now I had to get up twice as often (on crutches) and hobble to the bathroom - only to experience more frustration as only one act of a two act play transpired.
So today - I stood at my pantry door with my leg propped up on my new toy, the knee walker, and with great trepidation, I reached with trembling fingers for my favorite METHOD OF MASS DESTRUCTION - Super Dieters' Tea.
This substance is of such awesome properties that if you drop a penny in a cup of it, and let it sit for a week, the penny will dissolve. OK, I haven't tested that, but if anything could dissolve a penny, this stuff could.
Here was my dilemma: What is worse - epic constipation, or being suddenly hit with the exact opposite problem, and having to get to a toilet on either crutches or a knee walker? Hmmm, these are my only two alternatives? Life sucks. But I couldn't take it any longer - I felt like a stuffed sausage.
I made a cup of this elixer of the ungodly, and drank it down before I could change my mind.
Within three minutes (and this is no lie), I felt a familiar sensation - one that is usually so predictable, and mildly comforting, and one that I usually take for granted - and off I scooted to the bathroom, where I experienced a, shall we say, cathartic moment. Well, several moments.
Without going into detail, I'll just say this - MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
Then I realized, with growing horror, that I had just downed a stout cup of the most horrifyingly effective laxative known to man - and that regardless of this morning's events, this stuff was going to - GOING TO - work on me within the next 8 hours or so.
So - now I'm sitting on the sofa again, feeling like this:
Don't worry - when the inevitable occurs, I won't burden you with the details.
I'm much too much of a Southern lady to do a thing like that.
Achilles Tendon Drama
Woohoooooo!!
Kathryn
It was on fire when I laid down on it.
And I did figure out how to take a bath:
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
15. Imagine a choir of angels singing Handel's "Halleluia Chorus!"
Well, in the past 24 hours my life has improved DRAMATICALLY! "This could be your life."
First of all, last night I realized, after some sniffing around, that I had put off the inevitable for as long as possible - that is, if I wanted to be able to even stand to be in the same room as myself, let alone have anyone else come near me.
I simply HAD to overcome my fear and trepidation about some form of showering or bathing beyond baby wipes. So I grabbed my crutches and dragged myself into the den of horrors - the master bath.
I had already decided that nothing and nobody could get me back into that shower, so that left the bathtub - my glorious, deep, shining Jacuzzi tub, with the soft little spa pillow at the back of it, the tall, cascading faucet, and the jets of hot water that massage the lucky bather from head to toe...I love that bathtub. But it did look like a logistical challenge. Armed with crutches, an orthopedic shower stool, and lots of non skid bathroom rugs, I got to work.
My husband kept coming up to the closed door and hollering, "Are you OK in there? Do you need any help in there? Don't get yourself in a bind!" but I was determined to maintain my personal dignity (in other words, not let him see me butt nekkid in unflattering light in various ungraceful and degrading positions) and do this myself. Besides that, after four days of sitting in a funk in an ever widening circle of human filth, I wanted to soak my bones in a jacuzzi tub, damn it! I ran a luxurious, steaming bathtub full of clear, sparkling water and smiled down on it like Oedipus himself.
So here's how you do the deed - or rather, how I did it. Don't you DARE even attempt this without talking to your doctor, and don't you DARE sue me when you fall and bust your ***.
I scooted the shower stool to the side of the bathtub. There I disrobed, throwing my stinky clothes as far from me as possible. Then I scooted over onto the side of the tub, and swung my good leg into it. I was now straddling the tub, with my casted leg resting on the stool. I anchored myself firmly with a hand on either side of the bathtub, and I lowered myself into the water (I'm tall, with long legs, but I could see how this could really be a challenge for a shorter person). Hey, this wasn't so bad. Once I got seated, I was able to prop my bum leg up in front of me by the faucet. I turned those jets on, baby, and leaned back in ecstacy on my little pillow - it was FANTASTIC! I shaved my legs (well, leg and a half), scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned, exfoliated, soaked - the full bath extravaganza!
Then I had to get out. That part wasn't nearly as fun, but at least I felt regenerated. I moved my bum leg back over to the side and rested it back on the stool, and then pushed up with both arms. It helps that I have a little ledge built at about bathwater level. Anyway, after some huffing and puffing, and a few choice words, I managed to get out of the tub and onto the stool. Honestly, I was pretty winded after this.
I recommend that if you insist on taking your life into your own hands in this manner, do a test run, fully clothed, with your caregiver by your side. A shorter, weaker person, or someone with a different sort of bathtub, might have more trouble with this than I did.
It ain't easy, and it's probably not going to happen every single day for the next week or so - but it was worth the trouble!
OK - next good thing that happened to me was this: I GOT OUT OF THE HOUSE. OK, it was only to go to the doctor, but it felt great to feel the cool fall breeze on my face, and to talk to other living people. NO lie, I was very tired when we got back home, but I'll definitely get back out again in a day or two, just because it made me feel more like a part of the human race and less like Gollum.
This is how I felt after four days of sitting in my own filth on the sofa
OK, I admit - it looked pretty gross, but not as awful as some pictures I've seen. The glue/incision is blackish (blood maybe?). It's about five inches long, straight up the Achilles tendon from about one inch above my heel up the back of my leg. If my husband's scar (elbow, same doc) is any indication, this one should heal to a tiny white line that's hardly noticeable. Just the unwrapping and moving about stirred up a little bit of bleeding, but even so, I think (and the doctor thinks) things look quite excellent.
He said that the numbness on the top of my foot is probably due to the tourniquet that they used during surgery. He said that it's very tight during surgery, and that can sometimes cause temporary nerve distress. This does feel like a nerve sort of thing. He also said my original bandages were a bit tight. So he wrapped things back up a bit looser, and I feel much better, even though the same area is still numb. Doc said it may stay numb for a couple of weeks.
I go back in one week, and he said that if things continue at the same pace of healing, we will try DAS BOOT. Damn it, I hate that thing - I've spent months in it already so far this year. After I got home, I tried (not very hard though) to rest a TINY amount of weight on my foot. NO CAN DO. The pain is SIGNIFICANT. I absolutely cannot imagine putting this foot down on the ground one week from today, but...at the same time, I want to be aggressive about my physical therapy. Michael keeps dangling the idea of a bike riding vacation to the Barton Creek/Lady Bird Johnson Lake in Austin in the spring, like a trainer dangling raw fish at Shamu - which I think is sort of cute. He's trying to encourage me! That's why I like him. He's not ready for me to be an invalid wife - and I'm not ready for that role either. I want back in the saddle!
http://achillestendondrama.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
15. Imagine a choir of angels singing Handel's "Halleluia Chorus!"
Well, in the past 24 hours my life has improved DRAMATICALLY! "This could be your life."
First of all, last night I realized, after some sniffing around, that I had put off the inevitable for as long as possible - that is, if I wanted to be able to even stand to be in the same room as myself, let alone have anyone else come near me.
I simply HAD to overcome my fear and trepidation about some form of showering or bathing beyond baby wipes. So I grabbed my crutches and dragged myself into the den of horrors - the master bath.
I had already decided that nothing and nobody could get me back into that shower, so that left the bathtub - my glorious, deep, shining Jacuzzi tub, with the soft little spa pillow at the back of it, the tall, cascading faucet, and the jets of hot water that massage the lucky bather from head to toe...I love that bathtub. But it did look like a logistical challenge. Armed with crutches, an orthopedic shower stool, and lots of non skid bathroom rugs, I got to work.
My husband kept coming up to the closed door and hollering, "Are you OK in there? Do you need any help in there? Don't get yourself in a bind!" but I was determined to maintain my personal dignity (in other words, not let him see me butt nekkid in unflattering light in various ungraceful and degrading positions) and do this myself. Besides that, after four days of sitting in a funk in an ever widening circle of human filth, I wanted to soak my bones in a jacuzzi tub, damn it! I ran a luxurious, steaming bathtub full of clear, sparkling water and smiled down on it like Oedipus himself.
So here's how you do the deed - or rather, how I did it. Don't you DARE even attempt this without talking to your doctor, and don't you DARE sue me when you fall and bust your ***.
I scooted the shower stool to the side of the bathtub. There I disrobed, throwing my stinky clothes as far from me as possible. Then I scooted over onto the side of the tub, and swung my good leg into it. I was now straddling the tub, with my casted leg resting on the stool. I anchored myself firmly with a hand on either side of the bathtub, and I lowered myself into the water (I'm tall, with long legs, but I could see how this could really be a challenge for a shorter person). Hey, this wasn't so bad. Once I got seated, I was able to prop my bum leg up in front of me by the faucet. I turned those jets on, baby, and leaned back in ecstacy on my little pillow - it was FANTASTIC! I shaved my legs (well, leg and a half), scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned, exfoliated, soaked - the full bath extravaganza!
Then I had to get out. That part wasn't nearly as fun, but at least I felt regenerated. I moved my bum leg back over to the side and rested it back on the stool, and then pushed up with both arms. It helps that I have a little ledge built at about bathwater level. Anyway, after some huffing and puffing, and a few choice words, I managed to get out of the tub and onto the stool. Honestly, I was pretty winded after this.
I recommend that if you insist on taking your life into your own hands in this manner, do a test run, fully clothed, with your caregiver by your side. A shorter, weaker person, or someone with a different sort of bathtub, might have more trouble with this than I did.
It ain't easy, and it's probably not going to happen every single day for the next week or so - but it was worth the trouble!
OK - next good thing that happened to me was this: I GOT OUT OF THE HOUSE. OK, it was only to go to the doctor, but it felt great to feel the cool fall breeze on my face, and to talk to other living people. NO lie, I was very tired when we got back home, but I'll definitely get back out again in a day or two, just because it made me feel more like a part of the human race and less like Gollum.
This is how I felt after four days of sitting in my own filth on the sofa
Alright, so we got out and went to the doctor's office, so he could check on whether or not my foot was going to fall off. Apparently numbness is not as normal as I thought it would seem to be. So...THEY TOOK OFF MY BANDAGES AND I GOT TO SEE MY FOOT. Hey, it was not as grody as I thought it might be! First of all, the only swelling seemed to be around (and this is a surprise) MY ANKLE. There was some bruising as well, but nothing grotesque. The really cool thing though, was the incision. It wasn't held together with stitches, or staples, but GLUE. OK, I admit - it looked pretty gross, but not as awful as some pictures I've seen. The glue/incision is blackish (blood maybe?). It's about five inches long, straight up the Achilles tendon from about one inch above my heel up the back of my leg. If my husband's scar (elbow, same doc) is any indication, this one should heal to a tiny white line that's hardly noticeable. Just the unwrapping and moving about stirred up a little bit of bleeding, but even so, I think (and the doctor thinks) things look quite excellent.
He said that the numbness on the top of my foot is probably due to the tourniquet that they used during surgery. He said that it's very tight during surgery, and that can sometimes cause temporary nerve distress. This does feel like a nerve sort of thing. He also said my original bandages were a bit tight. So he wrapped things back up a bit looser, and I feel much better, even though the same area is still numb. Doc said it may stay numb for a couple of weeks.
I go back in one week, and he said that if things continue at the same pace of healing, we will try DAS BOOT. Damn it, I hate that thing - I've spent months in it already so far this year. After I got home, I tried (not very hard though) to rest a TINY amount of weight on my foot. NO CAN DO. The pain is SIGNIFICANT. I absolutely cannot imagine putting this foot down on the ground one week from today, but...at the same time, I want to be aggressive about my physical therapy. Michael keeps dangling the idea of a bike riding vacation to the Barton Creek/Lady Bird Johnson Lake in Austin in the spring, like a trainer dangling raw fish at Shamu - which I think is sort of cute. He's trying to encourage me! That's why I like him. He's not ready for me to be an invalid wife - and I'm not ready for that role either. I want back in the saddle!
http://achillestendondrama.blogspot.com/
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Kathryn, you're a gem. 
Sounds like your recovery will be just fine now. You're adjusting actually extremely well with humor and with that feisty nothing's-going-to-hold-me-down spirit that you've mastered. And of course, I just LOVE a woman with attitude. :hearts:
Keep it up, ladyfriend.
Sounds like your recovery will be just fine now. You're adjusting actually extremely well with humor and with that feisty nothing's-going-to-hold-me-down spirit that you've mastered. And of course, I just LOVE a woman with attitude. :hearts:
Keep it up, ladyfriend.
Enjoyed reading through your blog, Kathryn. Good spirited pain and misery is always fun. Your blog will undoubtedly be helpful to others and it is good of you to take the time to work it. You have turned a 'baddie' into a 'goodie.'
Your blog will undoubtedly be helpful to others and it is good of you to take the time to work it. You have turned a 'baddie' into a 'goodie.'
Kathryn
It was on fire when I laid down on it.
Lawrence, Mystic, and Autonomous, thank you so much for your encouragement. I figure that even the hard times in life hold valuable lessons for us, and we may as well get the good that we can out of EVERYTHING. Otherwise the entire experience has not only been a waste, it's been detrimental.
Wow, I sound downright philosophical.
Wow, I sound downright philosophical.
Wannabe Yogi
Well-Known Member
I glad to see that you are well.
Kathryn
It was on fire when I laid down on it.
Thank you so much.
One thing this whole fiasco has shown me is that "well" is a relative term. I am a very healthy person generally. One thing I've realized is the huge difference between an injury and an illness.
I've also learned just how much an injury to one small part of your body can traumatize the whole system. It's like the system is compromised, if you get my drift. Like it's been invaded.
Also, sitting around doing nothing is EXTREMELY TIRING. Isn't that weird? Like, the less you do, the more tired you are?
Last night was my first night to sleep all the way through with no pain waking me up. FANTASTIC. So I got up and jumped on my little scooter and did some cleaning up, scooted out to the mailbox, even managed to get on my scales (yay, lost five pounds!), and that got me so excited that I got out my skinny jeans and tried to put them on (before I realized that they won't fit over the cast!).
I was completely worn out after all this - and just a couple of weeks ago I did all that sort of thing in about five minutes and then went on to rock and roll through a day packed with other activities.
It's kind of alarming. I am really ready to start my physical therapy. I am so sick of my physical activities being curtailed (since April). I absolutely cannot wait to start working out again and regaining strength.
I've already gotten down on the floor several times and stretched and did leg lifts, that sort of thing. I am about to try some yoga - should be interesting with a cast.
My husband said he will get me something to work out my upper body some time this weekend. I can't wait!
Hopefully next week they will put me in a cast that can bear some weight and I can start slowly stretching out this tendon. Scary - but it's got to be done.
PEACE OUT - YOGA TIME!
A great approach. You angel:angel2: