"But you know what to expect this time! It will be easier!"
Um, true. And also...not.
Positives of knowing what to expect:
- I was prepared with all the things I need for recovery -- the Cold Rush ice machine with knee pad, the countertop ice maker to keep up with ice demands, lots of stretchy wide-leg pants I can pull up for wound inspections by doctor and PT, water bottle, books, word searches, headphones, body pillow, setting up the downstairs bedroom, inspecting the elevator (ugh, sounds so bougie, but the downstairs was built wheelchair accessible, so we have an "elevette" that is terrifying but also VERY convenient for surgeries, and actually the doors are all wider and the bathroom has more maneuvering space).
- Bryce was prepared for what he needs to do to help take care of me when I'm not yet independent. This was really hard last time as I had the hematoma and medication snafus and way more inflammation than I needed to deal with.
- We can tweak things that could have been better last time -- like meds management (Bryce made a spreadsheet this time and is the "home pharmacist," because it's a good idea to have those on narcotics maybe not be in charge of keeping track of them, at least at first!).
- I have knowledge about what impeded progress and caused inflammation last time -- I know not to overdo the ROMTech range of motion bike thing, I know to ice, lots, I know to listen to my body better, and I know that bending is hard, but straightening is harder. Lots of putting pillows under my calf, not my thigh. (It's paying off!)
- We knew to advocate for the Celebrex and Gabapentin from the get-go, and didn't take no for an answer when it looked like maybe it was going to be a clusterfuck again.
- I requested my same home PT team, since they were phenomenal last time. Guess what? You can TOTALLY request things like that!
You would think all this preparation would make me a lot calmer. But...
Negatives of knowing what to expect:
- I KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. I remembered the pain of the nerve block, the fear around the spinal. I remembered the weird sensation of having to walk without totally feeling my feet, and thinking that they put me in a waterbed because my ass was numb for hours (Fun Fact: your pelvic region is the last part of you to regain feeling, which is INSANELY WEIRD in the bathroom. Use your imagination.). I remembered the horrors of mismanaged pain. I remembered difficulties sleeping. I remembered pain, and pain, and pain.
- This meant that my anxiety levels were soaring the days before surgery. I was literally on edge and teary and panicky all the way until they first gave me a little sedation with the nerve block. It was ROUGH. So much anticipatory anxiety.
It reminded me of when I was going in for my last handful of embryo transfers. Some clinics will give you a valium because it helps with relaxing your cervix. I advocated for it for that reason, but also because I was an absolute wreck every time by that point (should have been a clue maybe it was time to stop). I would see that flash of the embryo(s) entering my uterus through the pipette on the ultrasound screen, and I would just tear up and say (sometimes out loud), "Hey, little guys, I'm so sorry. You're probably going to die in there." Ooof. Just for the record, these thoughts in no way sealed my embryos' doom. We humans simply don't have that kind of power. Sorry, manifesting "think it true" folks!
It felt terrifying to know what to expect, because so many things went wrong, both with the transfers and my first knee. But...
This time has been so much better. I was right that having no prior scar tissue from a previous traumatic injury and surgery made it easier. I have pain, and it's hard, but the knee part is nowhere near as bad as it was the first time. Also, it's easier to advocate for my needs. Unfortunately, some things not-knee related have made it of course more complicated. I had an allergic reaction to the adhesive in the wound covering that I didn't have before. It caused a rash, and blisters, and horrible itching/burning. Hydrocortisone cream helps a bit, but the only thing that is truly clearing it up is Prednisone. UGH. I hate that med so much. It's a fast Medrol pack, so I'll sleep again soon, but blergh. Gross. Also, all the one-sidedness and weird positioning to get comfortable resulted in horrible sciatica and piriformis spasming. This was literally a pain in my ass! It was so bad that it eclipsed the knee pain sometimes. However, amazing PT for the win -- I got really great stretches and exercises to help. Also, my amazing massage therapist and friend came and did a house call! I got quality time kneading out my butt. It made a huge difference.
I am now in that part where I'm more mobile but prone to overdo it in my desire to be more independent. I have to remind myself to slow down and not push it, because that can result in slowing down recovery. It is something else to actually have the space and time to slow down. More on that later.
So, "you know what to expect" is a mixed bag, but it did actually make more of a positive difference than a negative one. If I had a third knee, I would tell myself those days before surgery that everything would be okay. A couple bloopers, but overall... it was way better than my brain led me to believe.
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