conservatorship for Britknee!

 "It'll give you a new lease on life!"

"You'll never regret it!"

"Best decision I've ever made!"

Those, my friends, are various quotes from total knee replacement forums, reviews, and shiny orthopedic clinic pamphlets. I clung to those reviews when I was grabbling with the decision as to whether or not it it was time to get new knees. And those reviews, frankly, are pissing me off right now. 

It's been a full year now since Courtknee, the first knee, came into my life. I am very satisfied with the result. I have limited pain in that knee, I can kneel all the way into child's pose, I can bend it (past the point of prosthetic limitations, no big deal- still a high achiever!) , I can straighten it, and overall, it's a high functioning, overachieving knee. I want to break out the bubbly and cheers this solid addition to my body, but unfortunately, Courtknee's success is currently being overshadowed by her evil sister Britknee's failures.

We're heading into the 7th month now since Britknee came into my life...and can I just stop right here and ask, Why did y'all let me name my knee Britknee? Like, hello? I was heavily medicated and, like a mother who is disorientated post-childbirth, I decided to name my knee after one of the most dysfunctional celebrities in the world right now? C'mon! I digress...Britknee sucks. I don't know how else to put it. She still won't straighten to a functional position. Because I am unable to get her to full extension, all my muscles from my ankle to my neck are affected - they are shortening and tightening. Each week I spin the wheel of muscle pain roulette and see if I'm going to strain my back, hamstring, quad, glutes - or this week's special -  tear a ligament! I'm in constant pain. The pain awakens me at night, and it feels like I have to swing this giant dead appendage across my bed in order to roll over. I'm sporting an ugly limp, as I drag this unstable, disorderly knee behind me everywhere I go. Britknee is legit toxic (currently dancing with knives???),  and I want a refund. 

Why? Why? Why?

The surgeon who performed my surgery encouraged me to be patient. When I told him I was very disappointed with the outcome, he nodded and replied, "So am I. But...we must wait a full year to see if it settles. So...see you back here in March! Keep pushing and stop limping." 

Super.

I went for a second opinion and the Orthopedic Surgeon recommended that all the hard-core joint mobilization therapy to straighten Britknee be stopped immediately. He explained that there is a window in which pushing and forcing the knee may aide with extension, but my window has passed. He hypothesized that all the forceful pushing is inflaming the scar tissue in my knee, preventing extension from happening naturally. If you let scar tissue mature, it becomes more malleable, and may eventually loosen, allowing extension to occur on its own. He suggested drastically reducing my daily step count and any high impact, but continuing to strengthen with physiotherapy (it's my 18 month anniversary of physio!), light weights, and cycling. He recommended giving it a solid 3 months. 

A second explanation was provided regarding a plastic piece in my prosthesis. There is a possibility that the piece is too large for my joint, preventing full extension. A smaller piece could be swapped out, which sounds easy peasy, but in actuality is another big surgery. I gathered that this would be a last resort kind of decision. I'm not really into this. I'm more of a "15 and done" kinda gal. 

I appreciated his explanation. It made sense to me. He also seemed to "get" me immediately, as he gently explained, "I can see that you are a person who will push yourself past your limit. You've done everything you can. You've gone above and beyond. But you need to rest a bit and just allow it to heal. This is not your fault."

So, you know...I listened and shed a few tears. Maybe I was just looking for some validation. I have been working so hard. In my mind, I had been the perfect patient. Can I just get an award or something???

So be it. (If you know, you know ;)

I'm trying to be more relaxed and restful in my approach; however, real life does not necessarily promote this. This strategy was fine in the summer when I had absolute control over my daily routine, and could balance rest with activity. But I am currently back at work full time in 4 different schools with students who have special education needs. It's a challenge to control your movement in the unpredictable school environment.  When my impulsive 5-year old student with severe Autism suddenly breaks free to chase chickens near the busy parking lot, I am unable to gently stop, apply light pressure equally to both joints while maintaining proper posture and announce, "My surgeon recommends no high impact."  

I am tired. I am in pain. I feel defeated. For some reason this 7 month thing is really getting to me, mentally. Given the fact that I was essentially pain-free at the 4-month mark with Courtknee, my expectations were set pretty high. There are days when I feel pretty hopeless about my situation. I was told to avoid knee replacements for as long as possible, and I did this by enduring surgery after surgery for 12 years. When I finally came to terms with the fact that it was time to replace my disease-riddled knees, my gut told me that I would regret it. And, currently, I do. I regret it. Maybe I should have left the right knee alone for a few years, or tried one more cartilage transplant. Was it that bad? Regrets are the WORST, and wake me up at 4am (why can't you wake up at 4am thinking about puppies and kittens?) 

Can you hear my tiny violin in the background playing a sorrowful sombre tune?

I hope that in a few months time, I will look back on this post and laugh at my dramatics, realizing that I just needed more time for healing to occur. My rational brain tells me that 7 months isn't really that long, right? (But my God, 13 years is!!!) My second-opinion surgeon was confident that I'd be feeling much better by Christmas. And, I suppose I should be thankful that one of the knees is a success story. But, honestly, I'm in the thick of things right now, not feeling so thankful at the moment, and I'm sick of hearing about so-and-so's grandma who resumed her role as captain of the bowling team a mere 3 months after her knee replacement. I'm tired of being Chumbawamba - I get knocked down, but I get up again. But like how many times can we repeat that chorus? I really just feel like staying down...for a while, anyway.

Even in the depths of despair I can throw out a bum pun.

I needed a good venting session. Writing this down makes me feel better. Thanks for listening.