19 Days Post Surgery

My knee replacement surgery went well. I checked in at 7:30 a.m. On Thursday, April 16, and was in the operating room very quickly.

I have some sketchy memories of being in the recovery room this time, unlike my first knee surgery about two years ago. And I do remember being moved into my own room, where I was so happy to see Dan again. He stayed with me most of the day, I think. The truth is that my sense of what happened, and when. is a jumble of hazy memories. I do remember visits, over the next couple days, from friends including Rodney, Donna, and Ron, but I don't remember much about what was said. I also remember a scary incident on (I believe) Friday. I had been sitting up in a chair for a half-hour or more, doing just fine, when all of a sudden, for some unknown reason, I got very light-headed, started seeing stars, and felt nauseous. A nurse was right there and began taking my vitals. My blood pressure and heart rate plummeted. The nurse pushed some sort of emergency button, and in no time my room was abuzz with ten or twelve doctors and specialists. They got me back to bed and started an IV with fluids. They had me breathing oxygen, and before long my vitals returned to normal. Sometimes, as patients, we can get a little impatient when it takes a while to get a nurse to our room to help with this or that. But this incident demonstrated that when there is a true emergency, a skilled team of docs and caretakers arrives quickly, each one performing his or her part of well-rehearsed steps needed to stabilize the patient. I was really grateful for their speedy and effective care.

On Sunday afternoon I was discharged. Dan drove me home and got me settled in for the evening. My physical therapist started working with me on Tuesday.

Therapy has been really difficult, but it's also been very effective. Every day I'm stronger and able to do more. It's been almost three weeks now. I'm starting to cut back on the pain meds, and have given up the walker for a cane. I even made it to church on Sunday morning.

Wanda and Doreen, two precious, elderly ladies at church, gave me a get-well care package. Among a dozen or so fun, quirky little gifts inside was this stuffed bulldog. I love him, because I think his tenacious expression mirrors my own as I'm going through my PT exercises every day.