I mentioned I was getting a new knee, but I haven’t said much about it. The new left knee, a Stryker Triathalon if that means anything to you, was installed three weeks ago and is working beautifully. I am pleased beyond my wildest dreams.

Pre-op went well. They prepped me for a spinal and some other anesthesia. My surgeon came in to see me as I was getting ready for that, and he asked if he could pray for me. I said, “Sure.” I found this very encouraging and comforting. Afterward, I remember feeling filled with peace and confidence. I know I was alert for a few minutes after that, because Mr. L decided to go run errands (there wasn’t anything else he could do until after I came back from surgery), so they made sure they had a good number for him, and he left. The next thing I knew, they were wheeling me into my room (a private room, thankfully), and Mr. L was there waiting for me. He made sure I was settled in, the he left for home.

I didn’t care for the hospital stay, but my complaints are niggling. They kept turning the bed alarm on, so every time I needed to get up to go to the bathroom, the darn bed would alarm. They did this inconsistently. They said, “Just call us.” Good grief. The Respiratory Therapy people drove me nuts. They’d come in just to put the oximeter on my finger. Why couldn’t they talk to the person taking my blood pressure either half an hour before or after who was doing the same thing? They kept asking if I needed oxygen or if I had COPD. No. I don’t. I just use a CPAP, which works very well without you annoying me all night long unnecessarily.

Hospital food? Excellent! Someone would come in and ask what I wanted from several choices, and the meal was delivered on time and at the appropriate temperature. And it was GOOD.

The staff did a great job of keeping my water pitcher filled with ice water. Once I got an understanding of the pain medication schedule, I was perfectly happy. I had no pain, but I’d heard to take the medication on the clock, but without knowing what the schedule was, I didn’t know how to handle it. It turned out I was getting OxyContin once in the evening and once in the morning. Hydrocodone was “as needed” every four or six hours (I don’t recall which). Well, I didn’t want to let the pain become bad enough to need anything, so I had the nurse write the time I could have the next dose on my white board, and I’d call them and remind them then. That worked.

I had a wonderful physical therapist. He came in the first afternoon and got me up to sit in a chair. I stood up, and as I sat down, I knew the nausea was going to get the best of me. He SCRAMBLED and found a pan just in time. My hero! This will sound strange, but my physical therapist seemed like he took the most care of me. He’d sit me up and get me a second gown to keep that bare backside from showing. He changed my sheets. He also guided me through basic physical therapy exercises and showed me how to use the CPM machine (the nurses didn’t seem to have a clue). This enabled me to set myself up on the machine. And, of course, I set off the stupid “fall” alarm when I got out of bed to lift the machine up for use or to set it down.

My surgeon checked on me after the surgery and told me he’d pulled three rocks about the diameter of a quarter from my knee. He said it was one of the worst knees he’d ever seen. He said a hospital doctor would be checking on me in case I needed anything, but he’d be back in the morning. He came early each morning to see how I was doing. By Friday morning, I greeted him by asking if I could go home, which, of course, I could. I called Mr. L and told him I’d be ready by about nine. I just had to wait for my physical therapist to come by. When he came in close to nine, I was wearing my street clothes and ready to go. He laughed and said I should have let him know, he’d have come in sooner, but Mr. L had needed time to get there, so I told him this worked well. We did what we had to do, and they called for a wheelchair for me. Mr. L brought the truck around, and I got slid into the back seat, cushioned on pillows, hooked up my cryo-cuff (see explanation below), and belted myself in for the ride home (with stops for prescription fills and a few other things — I stayed in the truck).

I’m finishing up home health physical therapy. I was supposed to have my final session today, but my therapist came down with laryngitis. She hopes to be okay by tomorrow for our final discharge session.

The outpatient physical therapy office called a few minutes ago, and I’m set to begin on Tuesday the 19th. I’ve been off narcotic pain relievers since Friday. I’m driving again. I only use a cane for insurance. My walking is going pretty well, but I have to pay attention. When I get tired, I need to be more careful. I have a long way to go for healing and recovery, but my knee feels so good.

I thoroughly enjoyed my recliner (I’m sitting in it now), but I moved back upstairs for sleeping on Monday night. I enjoyed that, too. I can do stairs. I don’t like to do stairs. I don’t like to get up from lower level seating. It’s getting a little easier. With my therapist, I have been able to go up and down stairs “normally.” When she’s not here, I tend to do it the one leg at a time way. In the evening, I’m too tired and wearing my backback and carrying my cryo-cuff. In the morning, I’m not really awake enough, and I’m wearing my backpack and carrying my cryo-cuff.

What’s a cryo-cuff? It’s a cooler with a hose coming out of the spigot that runs to a hook and loop closing wrap that goes around the knee. With a mix of ice and water, you can open the top vent and use gravity to surround your knee with cooling, refreshing ice water. Rest, ice, and elevation are a new knee’s best friends.

Before surgery, I took two extra strength Acetaminophen in morning and two in the evening for pain management. Now, I’m taking those and two more in the afternoon. That seems to be doing the trick.

So far, I’ve managed to avoid overdoing activity, but everyone overdoes at some time or another. I do a few things, rest, then do a few more.  The first week, I slept a lot. The second week, I was able to load the dishwasher and unload it, Mr. L brought his laundry down, and I was able to wash, dry, and fold it. The third week, I’ve gradually added a few more things, like litter boxes, which Mr. L abhors. Last weekend, I was able to weed eat through two batteries (of the six it takes to do the full yard). I still tire easily, but I stop and rest.

I’m looking forward to getting the right knee done, but I’m sticking to my revised plan of doing it next year — maybe a little earlier in April.