on the mend and back again

Well, I’ve got to admit that my recovery after the arthroscopy was much quicker than I’d anticipated and, within three weeks I was back to being able to walk the dog on pavement, footpath and fields almost as before the operation. I have to use the assistance of a walking stick at present, but that was the norm until a year ago, but I’ve not had to don my knee supports. Yesterday afternoon, I had a follow-up appointment at the Orthopaedic & Fracture Clinic at the District Hospital and was discharged back to my GP.

During the op they had discovered some degree of arthritis (which hadn’t shown up on the X-Ray), considerable wear and tear of the cartilage and some bare bone into which they drilled two small holes. Incredible what can be achieved through keyhole surgery and, I’m just grateful for our wonderful NHS which the Tories are still intent on destroying.

The only difficulty, if I can call it that, whilst at the hospital was a need to rush to the loo whilst waiting for the appointment; sods law timing of a side-effect from the antibiotics that had been prescribed, the previous morning, for a non-related ailment. It all adds a little (off-)colour to life’s already abundant tapestry.

Now, the back story to the antibiotics: Late on Tuesday afternoon I started to get pains in the upper abdomen, right under and along the rib-cage. At first this felt more like a dull bruise but gradually intensified to a more searing pitch but, I’d had a similar, not quite so acute, sensation a couple of months back which was resolved by a prescribed doubling up of my omeprazole. I’ve long been plagued by digestive and sundry bowel and abdominal problems so, I’ve become accustomed to spasmodic disconcerting abdominal pain and discomfort, alongside other chronic pain symptoms. During the evening this more intense pain seemed to spread into the right-hand side of my back, from just below the shoulder blade into the small of the back. The discomfort & pain reached such a degree, untouched by my usual painkillers, that I had to keep changing chairs, sofas, posture etcetera,  throughout the evening, in an attempt to alleviate each recurring moment of increased intensity.

On Wednesday morning, following a telephonic triage by a practice nurse, I was granted an emergency appointment with a GP. I was amazed, and relieved, that the doctor gave me such a thorough examination of over twenty minutes duration and, judging by my reactions to the examination, he suspected an infection of the gall bladder. The doctor also arranged for a nurse to take some blood samples whilst I was at the surgery and, prescribed a course of Co-amoxiclav. He also asked why I hadn’t gone to A&E the night before, although my beloved OH had suggested that. I explained that I felt A&E were already overburdened and I didn’t want to add to it. The docs response was “but you are really ill!” and, if I experience similar pains again I shouldn’t hesitate in getting down to the hospital.

Early on Thursday morning the GP phoned me to check up how I was feeling and informed me that the blood inflammation flags were rather high and, felt that we were on the right course of treatment. I have to arrange for another blood test in a couple of weeks. Once again, my thanks are due to, and gratefully proffered for, the NHS!

Compression Ratios and Ailments

Come Friday night, after all the preceding days anxieties, my only concern as I got into bed was whether I’d be able to get ready on time the following morning; more importantly would my beloved, ma belle chauffeuse be ready to transport me to the hospital for my day surgery. By 4.30 on Saturday morning I still hadn’t managed to grab any sleep but, I then re-awoke by 6.30am in preparation for the days events.

Quite strangely, by this time I was totally calm and relaxed in preparation for undergoing the surgical procedure. I duly arrived at Harrogate District Hospital before 7.30 and made my way to the Day Surgery Unit. The staff were all reallyquite brilliant in making one feel relaxed, and re-assured, about the procedure which one was there for: nurses, physiotherapist, anaesthetists and the consultant all introduced themselves and had a few word about the procedure. When I told the physio that I wasn’t too keen on the prospect of using crutches, owing to sundry aches and pains in elbows and upper arms, but I’d be happy to use walking sticks, she measured the stick I had with me and, a matching stick was cut and ready before I even went to theatre.

I wasn’t first on the list for the knee surgery but, nonetheless, I had undergone the op under general anaesthetic and was back in the bay by shortly after 9.30am. Were it not for a glitch with the computer printer, delaying printing of the discharge letter, they would have called my beloved earlier than was the case, for her to come and collect me. All that having been said. we still arrived back home by 11.40am. The nurse had laughed as she informed ma belle that I insisted on walking out and, wouldn’t take a chair. It really seems that all my anxieties had centred on pre-planning, not the event itself. Mind you, I’ve always preferred spontaneity to planning.

This morning, 48 hours after the op, I removed the bulky dressing from the wound and applied sterile patches in their place. I’ve been doing recommended exercises as and when I felt appropriate and have had little trouble with the technique for ascent and descent of the staircase. The one startling reality that has come to light is just how low the average lavatory pan & seat is; the switch from bladder release to bowel function seems to involve a considerable fall through space. If only we had eyes in our rears the operation would be a little easier. Elevating oneself after action provides considerable exercise of the arm muscles.

Since my return from the hospital I’ve only experienced the minimum of my familiar discomforts in wrist, elbows and armpits. I’ve even started to wonder if having a compression stocking on the non-operated upon leg has somehow applied a kind of lymph(atic) massage, similar to that experienced when an application of a tubular bandage support over the elbow frequently seems to alleviate a nausea-inducing aching tenderness in the armpits. [N.B. this is simply hypothetical – I am neither a medical or mystical practitioner]. Alternatively, it could have even be that my nervous system had diverted all its energies towards healing and soothing any discomfort in the battle of my wounded knee.

one helluva night - with tears to follow

Well that was one helluva night! No, I don’t mean it was brilliant or enjoyable, indeed the opposite would seem to apply. For a large section of the night, which should have been spent either at rest or asleep, excruciatingly discomforted aches, pains and jarring niggles, exceeded there usually capacity to catch me by surprise.

What started as the all too familiar ultra-sensitivity of my toes, swiftly became an all-consuming ache of limbs and torso. Throbbing knees and aching hips, joined aching wrists and elbows in some kind of exotic fandango. Between the familiar aching pains, sudden jolts, as if an electric charge had been applied, seemed to run through torso and limbs before resolving to a generalized heavy ache with only occasional jarring painful explosions.

Supports applied to wrists and elbows seemed, at first, to alleviate the intensity of the discomfort but it only took a short while before the discomfort intensified once more. Similarly, lavishing my toes with moisturizing cream proffered temporary relief. After about 1½  hours, which seemed like an eternity, I was able to settle down with a vague hope that sleep would soon overwhelm me.

Come morning, I was pretty much my usual sleep-deprived self but, I managed to doze off for a few daylight hours. At first I didn’t seem any worse for the extremely disturbed rest and sleep pattern of the preceding night but, later, became quite weepy and tearful, to the extent that I developed an intense fear regarding the procedure (arthroscopy) to be carried out on my right knee on Saturday. My thoughts ran wild in anticipation of worse than usual debilitating pains to further detract from my quality of life.

At heart I’m a total wimp, I only cope with quite regular pain, discomfort and, occasional bouts of brain fog, because I’ve not been granted an opt out clause. My sense of ill emotional ease intensified as the morning went on; both my beloved and Piper attempted to console me even though I strived to reject their consolation.