Another Day of Needles and Pain
For years I was relatively pain-free. I had these horrible knee surgeries back in 1970 and 1971, which were little more than someone taking my right knee apart and pulling out whatever they did not like the look of, and in 1977 when the left knee finally collapsed from years of supporting the right knee, when a "this will be relatively painless and the recovery is quick" arthroscopic operation was done. Clearly these orthopedic surgeons had a strange sense of humour, because that early arthroscopic surgery was painful and took longer to recover from than those that disassembled my other knee! And back in those fairly barbaric days, they never gave you physical therapy, either--they wrapped you from hip to ankle and immoblised the joint for up to six weeks. Yeah, that works.
But I did finally reach a detente with my knees. I found a non-steroidal way to deal with no cartilledge and bone-on-bone grinding. I continued to walk quickly, but I no longer ran, and I used to be FAST. But in the past six years of my prison sentence where I'm working, the right knee's become dodgy. The first time it blew up to the size of a cantaloupe just from climbing a steep stairwell. All I felt was a twinge inside the joint; no warning of the agony to come. It happened again last October when my foot slipped off a carpetted stair step and I twisted my knee around and broke my wrist--although no one discovered the break. It was only when the sprain took over nine months to mend that it was admitted: "Oh, it must have been broken, then."
This time, I was entangled by some cut branches while I was trying to get out of the garage, they grabbed my trouser leg and started to send me sprawling--and I came down too hard and possibly at an angle on the right knee. Cue swelling about the size of a large mango on Monday. I've been home all week so far.
Today I gave in (because I could not find anyonw who could drive me--and you have to use your right leg to both accelerate and brake), I painfully drove myself. They no longer have any Immediate Care/Med Cheks on my side of town, so I went ahead and went to OrthoIndy in Greenwood, figuring they would at least know about knees. THe poor ailing joint was stuck with needles galore: a big one with 'anesthesia' (EXTREMELY painful), one to draw out almost 70ccs of knee fluid, and then a third to put in cortisone. OWWWWW. But I'm also off for the rest of the week, so I'm hoping my boss doesn't grow lethal about my having a legitimate reason for being off with an orthopaedic surgeon's insistence.
I cannot take nSAIDs and I do not like painkillers; I can take Tylenol if I also want to run to the bathroom with diarrhea frequently. So I tough all this out, using as much arnica gel and menthol/camphor gels as I can. But last night in bed I was in pure hell of pain, so I'm hoping this now-artificially blown up knee will let me sleep tonight.
I hate the fact the last six years have required my SITTING so much; I am not that kind of person. I've gained weight from the steroids and the cumulative inactivity, and I'm afraid of losing even MORE muscle mass and growing weak.
I hate being weak. I hate being helpless.
But I did finally reach a detente with my knees. I found a non-steroidal way to deal with no cartilledge and bone-on-bone grinding. I continued to walk quickly, but I no longer ran, and I used to be FAST. But in the past six years of my prison sentence where I'm working, the right knee's become dodgy. The first time it blew up to the size of a cantaloupe just from climbing a steep stairwell. All I felt was a twinge inside the joint; no warning of the agony to come. It happened again last October when my foot slipped off a carpetted stair step and I twisted my knee around and broke my wrist--although no one discovered the break. It was only when the sprain took over nine months to mend that it was admitted: "Oh, it must have been broken, then."
This time, I was entangled by some cut branches while I was trying to get out of the garage, they grabbed my trouser leg and started to send me sprawling--and I came down too hard and possibly at an angle on the right knee. Cue swelling about the size of a large mango on Monday. I've been home all week so far.
Today I gave in (because I could not find anyonw who could drive me--and you have to use your right leg to both accelerate and brake), I painfully drove myself. They no longer have any Immediate Care/Med Cheks on my side of town, so I went ahead and went to OrthoIndy in Greenwood, figuring they would at least know about knees. THe poor ailing joint was stuck with needles galore: a big one with 'anesthesia' (EXTREMELY painful), one to draw out almost 70ccs of knee fluid, and then a third to put in cortisone. OWWWWW. But I'm also off for the rest of the week, so I'm hoping my boss doesn't grow lethal about my having a legitimate reason for being off with an orthopaedic surgeon's insistence.
I cannot take nSAIDs and I do not like painkillers; I can take Tylenol if I also want to run to the bathroom with diarrhea frequently. So I tough all this out, using as much arnica gel and menthol/camphor gels as I can. But last night in bed I was in pure hell of pain, so I'm hoping this now-artificially blown up knee will let me sleep tonight.
I hate the fact the last six years have required my SITTING so much; I am not that kind of person. I've gained weight from the steroids and the cumulative inactivity, and I'm afraid of losing even MORE muscle mass and growing weak.
I hate being weak. I hate being helpless.