The surf blog with the alternating Faulkner-inspired titles.
13 July 2009
Swim, Rinse, Repeat
I swam to the buoy again today.That's me doing my best imitation of Buoy, Jr.
Note the tiny thigh above the bionic (left) knee. A year from now, the muscles in that leg should be firing on all cylinders.
Busy day today. I managed to squeeze in a buoy swim between my massage therapy appointment and my physical therapy appointment. I've gained four degrees of flexion from somewhere. I can't believe how happy that news made me. I guess I was getting discouraged. Now my resolve is even stronger. I'm going to get this leg to bend, dammit. I'm not giving up on it yet.
Oh! My physical therapist cleared me to ride the mat. She said I should go no longer than 30 minutes for the first couple of sessions. Then I'm to see how the knee feels. If the pain isn't too great, I'm good to go (i.e., do short mat sessions a few times a week).
Behold the footrest known as Oxley. I spend an inordinate amount of time, while at the computer, trying not to squish the dog. Do you see why?
As I type this, he's snoring loudly. All it takes is some playtime with his brother at the dog park. Oxley will be quiet for the remainder of the day. And I'll have warm feet.
Perhaps it was the low tide. Or the nice, buoyant wetsuit. Or the dolphins? The sunshine? The good company?
I swear it took me all of about five minutes to reach the buoy (with Ria paddling her board next to me). I'm a different swimmer than I was last year when I did this swim on several occasions. I wasn't at all nervous. I was too excited about being back in the ocean.
So, I swam to the buoy. I hung out there for awhile talking. Then I swam south a bit. I managed to run into Ria during that part. Ha! I cannot swim straight. If it weren't for the line at the bottom of the lane, I'd probably be all over the pool! I eventually swam back to the buoy before heading in. After I got out, I thought about going back in for another swim. Then I decided to leave well enough alone. My goal was to swim to the buoy. That's what I did. There was no need to act like I'm a cyborg. I am partially bionic and even that is not without pain at this point. I made myself head to the car. I was happily surprised that my knee felt fine while braving the shorepound. I really thought it would hurt like hell.
You grow weary of the constant pain, the south swells you can't surf, the limited flexion, the scar that talks to you every minute of the day.
Today is not a good day. Mind you, it's not necessarily a bad one either. I swam this morning. I did a little spinning on the bike (which is still on the stationary trainer). I did all of the things required of me and a wife and mom. But damn if I'm not tired of being on virtual lockdown with this knee. You know, the one that doesn't bend worth shit.
The fact that I can't surf is finally getting to me. The fact that I can't jump on my bike and ride to the beach brings me down every time I sit in the Woman Cave pedaling as if I'm on the Bridge to Nowhere.
The problem I'm having is that there are finally days when I feel good, days when the pain is minimal and therefore my attitude is great. Then there are the days like today, days when the pain is a constant, yet unwanted companion. The good days make it harder to muddle through the bad days.
That's the question I keep asking myself when I endure the torture of physical therapy and the active release massage. I come away from both with a pronounced limp and a bad attitude. I'm currently at 110 for flexion. That means I can bend my knee 110 degrees. For some, that's good enough. I'm not "some". I want more. There are knee replacement patients who, upon realizing that their knees won't bend past a certain unsatisfactory point, go back under anesthesia to get a manipulation. It sounds like a nice, civilized procedure, does it not? You want to know what they do during a manipulation? They wrench the knee in god knows what directions in order to break the scar tissue that is preventing the joint from obtaining a satisfactory bend. I'm not a candidate for manipulation. My knee bends enough for normal activities (sitting, stair climbing and descending, walking). I don't want a manipulation anyway. I want 10 more degrees of flexion. I was at 120 at the time of surgery. 120. I never thought I'd be thankful for that little bit of bend. It bugged me for the last 29 years. Well, I'll admit I'd be more than happy with that much flexion.
What if I get stuck at 110? I'll make the best of it. My pop-up will probably slow down quite a bit. However, 110 is fine for riding the mat. Now that I think about it, I'll be thrilled to wear fins and not be in agony. Here I was thinking the new knee would change my surfing. I never considered what it would do to my mat riding. I will be out in the water with a knee that is strong, a knee that is part of a leg that will be stronger than it's been in decades. This, now that I think of it, changes everything!
As I sit here, my knee is throbbing. My massage therapist doesn't take "stop" for an answer. Today, I politely asked him to stop what he was doing. His response: selective hearing. He totally ignored me. Good. That's what I want him to do. I wasn't dying. I was just in pain. I guess he knew I could take it. Yeah, I took it. Then I limped out to my car. I've limped for the rest of the day. Will it help? I think it might. If nothing else, it couldn't hurt.
Knee Replacement: Between Two and Three Months Later
El Hefe and others were right. The changes begin to occur at a rapid pace around the two month mark. I'm still unable to surf or ride the mat . . . but I'm close. August continues to be a good bet for my return to the lineups of overcrowded L.A. County.
Things I can do now: -Dance! -Swim without pain -Climb stairs (albeit a bit slowly) -Lift my child -Walk the dog a bit. (Still can't give him a 60 minute walk.) -A light frog kick (i.e., the breaststroke) -Get out of the bed without groaning -Cook a meal without having to sit down every five minutes. -DANCE!
Of course, these are mundane things that I could do prior to surgery. They are things that most people do without a second thought. After receiving a new joint, every regained movement of the joint is significant.
What about the pain? Yeah, that. (Pregnant pause) Let's just say, I went ahead and got my medical marijuana recommendation. This will now allow me to obtain my pain medication of choice without having to make a phone call, sneak around, etc. At this point, I'm letting the pain be my guide. More specifically, the pain I feel when I step out of the car is what I'm using to determine when I'll be back in the water. Early last week, I'd emerge from the car having to hold onto the door and gritting my teeth. The reason for that was (1) the leg was still too weak to easily support my body weight and (2) it hurt. For the last few days, getting out of the car has been much easier. There's more strength in the leg and less pain in the joint. When I can jump out of the car like I used to (planting my foot, pivoting and then walking away in a few quick movements), I think I'll be ready for my mat and surfboards again.
The pain is what it is. Many knee replacement patients are still on prescription meds at two months out. Many are still on the stuff at six months out. I have no time for that. Pain is pain. You can't play hard if you're afraid of pain (whether you've had a joint replaced or not). I want another 15 years to play as hard as I please. So I suck up this pain, which is at its worst when I'm trying to sleep, and look ahead to bionic future.
I know quite a few people find this blog after doing a search regarding knee replacement. Now I'm speaking to all of you: there's no reason to live with bone-on-bone pain when there is a way to make it go away. I know this surgery is frightening. It seems like some kind of twisted method of torture, doesn't it? Well, it's not. The surgery, the thing that scares people the most, is the easy part. You get your ass kicked during recovery. That's where you find out how much of a bad ass you are. And, in my opinion, anyone who has a joint replaced is a bad ass, whether you take the pain meds or not. Once you get past the first couple of months, the world looks completely different. I'm no longer filled with doubt or fear. I'm finally at the place where I can breathe a sigh of relief. My osteoarthritis pain was worse than what I'm experiencing at this point in my recovery. So, you see, it's good to keep it all in perspective. Yes, there is lingering pain. However, it will eventually go away. Bone-on-bone pain does not go away.
The sun is out. The water looks warm. My mat and my boards miss me. I'm now thinking it's time to move the boards back into the Woman Cave. I'm counting down the days until I can be back on a wave. Do you know what that means?
I still can't safely ride my bike on the street. The knee does allow me to turn the pedals, but doing so is not without some pain. I'm not yet street safe. There is no way I could stop quickly, turn abruptly, jump over a hole or even ride hands-free with the knee in its current state.
While I was riding the bike on the stationary trainer, I stood up on the pedals (without pedaling) to stretch my legs. What the hell? I told Soul Brother #1 to grab his camera and meet me outside.
I've been doing trackstands for the last 20 years. I was never the fastest racer in this region. I was, believe it or not, one of the few who could do a trackstand. That got me mad respect from everyone else. There's nothing like pulling up to a red light and staying clipped into the pedals until the light turns green. It's nothing if not empowering.
For the last year or so, trackstands were agonizing. I'd stand up to steady the bike. My weight would be shifted to my left leg. Then the femur and tibia would literally crunch together. I swear that bone-on-bone thing is one of the worst sounds in the world, especially when it's coming from your own body. The pain had gotten to the point where trackstands were becoming difficult (as were cheater fives since my weight would be shifted, again, to my left leg). While part of me believed these sounds and the accompanying pain were typical for a knee that had suffered a massive injury in the past, another part of me knew something was terribly wrong with the joint.
Well, now something is terribly right. When I did the trackstands this afternoon, there was neither pain nor a crunching noise. There was just the sound of my glee as my inner cyclist celebrated my first pain-free trackstands in years.
The month will pass without me swimming to the buoy. I'm still going to act as if I did it. I've been ready. Ria even agreed to paddle next to me as I swam. Everything was in place. Until I got to the beach. Damn board-breaking south swell closeouts! I don't want any of that when I'm surfing. Why would I try to take that on with only a wetsuit and a smile? Screw that. I'm not crazy. Both Ria and I laughed about envisioning both of us paddling in on her surfboard. The conditions weren't right for a swim . . . even with a good knee. I'll get to it when the swell calms down.
I recognize that I'm beginning to get on with my life. I've chucked the handicapped parking placard. I've stopped smoking the marijuana (although it would have come in handy last night—I'll get back to that). I want to feel normal again. Not that I'm suggesting I was ever normal. (I'll be here all week! Is this thing on?) As I begin to feel better, I'm no longer forced to consider my knee with every decision I make.
With that said, I still ain't got no flexion, dammit! It bends, yes, but it's not enough. Now, I know there's still a lot of healing going on in the joint. My knee continues to be quite warm to the touch. Yesterday, I got a massage specifically to break up the scar tissue. Doesn't sound fun does it? Well, it was not. Fun. Enjoyable. Delighftul. Or easy. It was rather painful, to say the least. Two hours later, I went to physical therapy. So I spent two hours being tortured yesterday. Please, sir, may I have another! At this point, I will do everything within my power to bring this knee back to the point where it does what I need it to do. Most knee replacement patients simply want to live without pain. I want to play without pain. I also want a joint that allows me to do what I do. I'm willing to put up with the pain and the expense of this knee replacement and the recovery in order to get my life back.
That's me doing my best imitation of Buoy, Jr.
Note the tiny thigh above the bionic (left) knee. A year from now, the muscles in that leg should be firing on all cylinders.
