As mentioned in my previous post, A shoezle on My Knee, I surrendered myself to knee surgery in the name of fitness and fashion. I want to run and play anything I want and wear anything I want. It comes at a price, the House of Pain.
Ten days leading up to the surgery were laced with very scary and sometimes painful occurrences. I deemed these serendipitous moments as practice for THE BIG ONE. I experienced five types of torture to prepare me for the worst, knee surgery.
Watch your step!
1. Rope Climbing. For spring break, my family and I went to San Diego. We checked out the Wild Animal Kingdom Park, a “great place for teens” a web posting told us. In addition to the tour of exotic African animals we chose from the menu of extras, a rope climbing experience. The walk-signal-like diagram of rope climbing made it look easy. What failed to appear were the rope ladders and chains linking platform to platform about 20 feet from the ground. Each step is lined up like a lily pad in the sky. Looking down is a must to know where to go. You are strapped in like a rock climber, no way to fall to the ground. Until I got my mind wrapped around this safety feature, I was shaking from tree to tree. The first course was frightening and sweaty, torture you might say. By the third course I trusted myself and welcomed the challenge. I was sore. Probably from holding on for dear life.
Post-Op. I am using my rope climbing skills to navigate my way around the house. I imagine myself back on the rope ladder, stepping carefully so the ladder will not tip and throw me off. I cannot put full weight on my knee without buckling in pain, or tipping the ladder so to speak. I’ve heard God has a plan for everyone. Ironic training.
Only the half of it!
2. Magic Mountain Roller Coaster Park. “Hey, let’s break up the nine-hour drive home and stop for some fun.” I’m not a big fan of amusement parks. But in our household, you either run with the Big Dogs or stay on the porch. I lasted two rides. I told my family the only ride I didn’t want to go on was the one I could see from the highway. I noted the skyscraper heights with shiny wheels flashing in the sun as the cars turned upside down, seven times. At least with this torture experience I could close my eyes and it only lasted three minutes. Beware of Vipers, snake or ride.
BEWARE!
Post-Op. If I don’t like what I see, say a needle or an I-V, I just close my eyes. It goes away after awhile. And for surgery, I got a lot of help, big time, to close my eyes for the scary part. And before I knew it, it was all over and I never knew what really happened, just like the roller coaster. Spot-on training.
3. Facial. I signed up for this one. I wanted a polish and a few barnacles removed. In aesthetician terms, barnacles are called extractions. And in my world spell torture. I’m sweating with each squeeze. I want to bat the technician away. However, she smartly places warming mitts over your lotioned hands and cucumbers over your eyes. It’s not really a fair fight. I can feel everything even if I can’t see it. I jab my fingernails into my hand to take my mind off what hurts more. Works for dental appointments too.
Post-Op. Pangs of pain shoot through my knee but nothing like the tear-wielding ones from a facial. I try to focus on other pain, say a tv fist-fight for example, until the meds take care of business. Veteran.
4. Swimming. Most people think swimming at 6 AM in an outdoor pool is torture. I admit, I don’t eagerly jump out of bed at 5:30 AM because I can’t wait to walk the pool deck in a skimpy suit in the frosty wind. Once I dive in, it’s like bath water and a very pleasant experience. My first swim of the week before surgery, I eagerly dove in to get out of the cold. YEOW!!!! I shot up immediately to catch my breath. I’m gasping in the icy waters. Somebody forgot to turn the heat back on after spring break. I seized up so tightly I pulled an ab. While I swam as fast as I could to warm up, I noted high-pitched squeals as other swimmers plunged into the pool. Criminy. This surely must be worse than surgery.
Post-Op. I don’t ever want to plunge into a pool of icy water again. If one can survive this torture, anything is possible, even surgery. Good for ice-pack therapy. Over-prepared.
5. Starvation. I’m lucky because my surgery was simple. I’m unlucky because it came at the end of the shift. No eating after midnight. No problem if the surgery was at 7 AM or 9 AM or even 10 AM. Mine was at 1 PM and then bumped to 1:30 PM. I told the hubby, “No cooking for breakfast, especially bacon.” I mentioned this to a few friends and right away the expression was, “TORTURE!” My husband says, “Willpower.” At this point, I firmly believe not all “men” are created equally.
Post-Op. Starving taught me my husband was right, willpower. I can do anything if I really try. I can stave off chocolate cravings and even bacon. I never felt desperate or missed breakfast or lunch on surgery day. Anything THE BIG ONE brings, I know I can deal. I proved it to myself before it even happened. Mission Accomplished.
Share on Facebook