Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Day thirty five

Almost there! Well, actually, I'm realizing that while I expect to be "released" to normal activities at 6 weeks, it will be an ongoing process. 

In the past two weeks, I've had my most significant setback and the most advances in activity. (Enduring contrast -- go figure.)

Early in my fourth week, I had a really awful day. I was achy. It hurt to walk. I was ready to reclaim my walker and actually alarmed that something might be wrong. My activities in the previous couple days had not been unusually strenuous or different. I had no fever, so I tried to calm down. I remembered nursing staff's advice to listen to my body. I gathered up my laptop and current novel, took more Tylenol, went back to bed and spent most of the day there. Disappointing, but an appropriate move.

Later in the day, I felt better, a little. Not great, but better. I stayed quiet. Took more Tylenol. The next day, I was not miraculously back to my previous "high," but continuing to climb back to that level. I was cautioned that this could happen, but I didn't like it.

In the past week, I've felt that range of motion has slowly but gradually improved. Nice to be able to realize this. I can comfortably reach below my knees -- though not my toes yet (a pedicure is becoming a major priority). While I still need my grabber to gather pants around my right foot and the extended shoe horn to put on my right shoe, I've figured out how to put a sock on by externally rotating my right knee and reaching behind my back (an interesting maneuver). Small accomplishments, but genuine advances.

Mostly, my hip is starting to feel like it belongs to me. My walking stride is longer and smoother. If there weren't snow on the ground and ice on the sidewalks, I'd be starting to power walk again.

So, what's my short term future look like? 

I have my follow-up appointment with my surgeon next week. At this point, he expected to be able to release me from the positional restrictions (I'm really looking forward to sitting down in the bathtub and doing my stretches again, the latter probably the greater challenge). While I might have hoped to be "normal" at this point, I'm realizing I'm probably not ready for cross country skiing (really, there's that much snow left), my usual outdoor bike ride over hills or tennis yet. However, I'm getting pretty clear encouragement that my body is progressing and that we'll get there soon. Plus, I'm not willing to take any significant risks right now. Not so bad.

While I'm not the type that usually needs or welcomes the proverbial pat on the back, the continued encouragement (in some cases, amazement) from staff, family, friends has helped. Just when I'm wishing I could walk faster or snatch something from the floor without thinking about it, someone cheers me with a "look at you!" or "you look terrific!" (Well, then there's my friend that captions all her emails "new hip, old lady.") That network of personal community support makes a huge difference -- don't go into this without circling the wagons.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Day twenty-one

Actually, I'd like to start counting down instead of up: 21 days LEFT until I'm "released" to normal activities again.

At six weeks from surgery, (or, three more weeks) I should be clear of all restrictions. In the past week, I've felt a little stronger, faster and able to do most activities with some finagled adjustments. I can reach the USB port on my computer tower if I lean over sideways and keep my right leg straight. I can kneel down to use the scanner on a low shelf if I am careful finding supports to help me get up again. I can reach the bottom bin of the dishwasher if I swing the weak hip leg back when I lean over. Still can't get my right sock on, shave my lower right leg or do a pedicure (all of which make for an interesting hygiene situation). I can get my skinny jeans on -- but can't get them off! (Extremely interesting.)

I know I shouldn't be complaining. I can walk at almost a normal pace (mine was pretty fast). I no longer totter very much when I accidentally pivot on the weak hip leg. My exercise regimen on the stationary bike is up to 40 minutes and almost 4 miles (still pretty puny, but improving) though I haven't been able to break a sweat yet. The exercises my therapist gave me have become "easy" -- I have to remember how it ached to swing my right leg sideways or do those little squats. My caboose isn't very sore any more -- I don't flinch when I sit down now.

I'm driving again! (Kudos to everyone who so cheerfully took me places!) Actually, there's no problem with leg strength or ability to operate the gas and brake pedals. It was seating position and getting in and out that took some planning. I have an interesting 4" piece of foam carved into a wedge shape to scoot my caboose up to a level position in my car seat (still have to keep my knee below my hip when sitting). Practicing getting in and out of the car was trickier than getting the seat elevation right. To avoid risk of dislocation, I'm not supposed to internally rotate my right hip/knee/foot (pigeon-toed position). Since I had this tall cushion, I had to raise the steering wheel and carefully slide my right leg in straight and first. It works, but took some planning. A lot of the business of recovery is figuring out how to do stuff -- safely.

I've been very fortunate to have flexibility in my work schedule -- as well as extremely understanding co-workers. I was able to arrange projects and due dates so that I had extra time to execute. I don't usually need to be anywhere at a specific time. If I have a day when I'm not feeling so great, I can back off. On a better day, I really try to work ahead.

I have to remember what so many of the nursing staff have reminded me: take it slowly. I'm not good at that. I'm used to pushing myself, meeting deadlines, exceeding goals. It's tough (well, unrealistic, actually) to set "goals" for recovery. I have to listen to my body. It sends different messages every day. Some days are better, some not so much. Sometimes I hear that it's time to stop working and sit down and read something simple. Again, my friends and family have been my support. A ten minute phone call, a little bit of laughter, a cheerful work discussion all help my outlook, attitude and get-up-and-go.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Day fourteen

First time on my stationary bike: 1.25 miles in 15 minutes on a flat course. Pretty pitiful (compared to the usual 11 miles in 60 minutes over hills). Doesn't feel like an auspicious start. 

Here's where recovery (even though I'm probably ahead of the timeline) slows down and gets frustrating. I'm still progressing, but at a slower rate.

Had my post-op appt with my surgeon yesterday. (He's delighted. I'd like to be walking faster.) Got a couple of good releases: sutures and sticky dressing removed, no more scratchy support hose, done with the nighttime knee immobilizer, OK to take a "real" (instead of spot spraying) shower. Still reinforced are the positional restrictions: keep the knee lower than the hip, don't cross knees/legs, keep at least a 90 degree angle at the hip/torso. Should be able to drive sometime next week. But, I still have a swollen, sensitive caboose -- careful sitting down!

So, there's still another month of this.

I can work, but my concentration is still a little fuzzy. Have to be careful taking phone calls and what I promise I'll do. My organization and analysis isn't so sharp. I'm trying to utilize my time on all those computer "housekeeping" projects I haven't had time for lately. 

Household matters are improving slowly. I've tried to relocate frequently used items to upper drawers and shelves where I can reach them. Still can't pick up the turtle's dish or get at the lower dishwasher rack or move stuff out of the dryer. Can't put on or take off my socks (but I haven't dropped my underwear yet!). My daughter was really getting good at putting on my TED hose -- she'd straddle me like she was hitching them up on her own leg. We laughed so hard I almost got injured.

Friends and family continue to line my surroundings with cheerful encouragement. Cards and emails continue to offer care, concern and comic relief. I had to ask for rides to/from my appointment, for lab work next week and to/from Bible study. People are candid when they can't, cheerful when they can. It's been good practice, asking for help.

A wise friend commented this week, listening to my impatience to get moving at a faster rate, that recovery comes on it's own schedule. So, I've had to acknowledge slower days and going to bed earlier and better days when I can get out in front a little.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Day nine

So this is what it's going to be like. Another 2-3 weeks.

I can't complain. I'm motoring around with my little cane. I'm down to 3-4 doses of Tylenol. My intestinal tract has remembered how to operate. I'm lucid enough to do simple work projects and keep lists of what should be done but isn't. Heck, I should be celebrating.

I'm coping OK. My caboose is still a little sore. It's like the muscles in my back side haven't remembered what they're supposed to be connected to. I've got the "typical" bit of swelling and fluid retention that comes after any surgery. My caregivers caution that not enough exercise aggravates this -- as does too much exercise. (That's perfectly clear.)

Now's where things get a little frustrating. I've made all this progress and should continue to be able to walk farther, faster, etc. But my positional "restrictions" continue 'til about a month after surgery. So I can move around better, but I still can't do anything.

My dear friends are prodding me, offering help, visits, outings. I'm not good at asking for this and feel blessed by their persistence and creativity. 

My husband and daughter are making huge efforts to maintain the household. I know it has to be difficult for them. They want to maintain the status quo, but they haven't the time for it. Z hasn't felt well the last couple days and it's been so difficult to watch her labor through her commitments without being able to offer much help. I'm trying to focus on the things I can do -- organizing meals, handling tasks that can be done at counter level -- rather than the things I can't -- loading/unloading the dishwasher, laundry, feeding the turtle. It's the simple stuff that wears you out.

Current mantra: focus on the positive; it makes everyone feel better.