Anticipation is the worst thing to happen to those of us who are control freaks. Turning your life and well-being into the hands of people you don't know is frightening. And still, what are the other choices?
On February 11th, I managed to tear the medial meniscus in my left knee. That wasn't discovered for weeks as doctors are reluctant to order expensive tests until other therapies have been tried. (Have talked about this before.) Once the jig was up and the reality known, there was nothing to do but schedule surgery....which took weeks and weeks to do. I just had that surgery on April 26th--two days ago. Do you blame me for being frustrated??
Because my cardiologist wanted to clear me for arthroscopic surgery when he was asked if I could be taken off my aspirin regimen for a few days, he required that I come in to see him...then required a chemical stress test to see if my heart could handle being under general anesthesia. (Are you seeing dollar signs??)
The surgery went well. I was discharged just before noon. Spent the remainder of the day resting...and the next day, too. Then today, I had my follow-up appointment with the surgeon and my first physical therapy appointment. I survived! In fact, I am somewhat shocked at how good my knee feels, even when the pain meds have worn off. I even ventured to the grocery store by myself this afternoon. A-mazing!
My sister was supposed to come this weekend for a visit, but because the weather is slated to be so nasty with heavy rains, etc., she canceled, and I am happy not to worry about her and family on the road in the predicted monsoon! I love you, Shari!
I would not/could not have survived all of this without my sister and my friends Judy and Phil Heffelman. (Judy and Phil are more like family than friends. Their son and my daughter were once married. We share grandchildren. That's family to me!!) I am so blessed. I am also delighted that this experience is almost over. If I am faithful with my PT exercises, I should be able to get back to where I once was. I hope so. It wasn't great, but it's better than it is now. Let's do it!
Friday, April 28, 2017
Thursday, April 20, 2017
The Medical Racket
I am a single retired woman of limited means. I do my best to live within those means, but life has other plans!
If you have followed me, you know that I tore a meniscus in my left knee on February 11th. I did the ER, a follow-up with an orthopedist, two knee shots a week apart thinking that the knee was simply arthritic when I knew better, and a physical therapy session. All of those had co-pays of $40-$45 each trip. Then the orthopedist ordered an MRI. Finally, a diagnosis! So then there was the appointment with the surgeon for arthroscopic surgery....and a note to my cardiologist to ask permission for me to be off aspirin for a week prior to surgery. Of course, the cardiologist only saw "knee surgery" and assumed I was getting a knee replacement rather than the two-poke arthroscopy...so he required that I come in a couple of months prior to my usual annual visit. Can you see the dollar signs adding up?
I had that appointment today. For the second time in a week, I had an EKG, blood work, BP check, etc. All was well...but...at issue is the fact that one of my feet--the one on the injured leg--keeps swelling. Being a "testing" kind of doc, my cardiologist has ordered a stress test to rule out congestive heart failure. I'm thankful for that, but I just keep wondering where all the money is going to come from to take care of what isn't covered my Medicare/United. He wants the stress test to take place before the surgery next Wednesday. Ugh! This isn't a treadmill test because I am physically unable to do that. It involves injecting meds that will make my heart race, and I'm not comfortable with that because it is out of my control. Hopefully, all will be well. I'll soon know!
What I am finding out is that everything is intertwined. We've done it to ourselves. In our litigious society, everything that goes wrong has to be someone's fault, right? I admit that I was perturbed at the first orthopedist that I saw before he ordered the MRI because I knew the problem was more than just arthritis. Would I sue him? No. He told me, and I believe him, that insurance is reluctant to pay for expensive tests before other therapies are tried first. We did the other therapies. They didn't work. The only person and/or company that was hurt was ME. I continued to hobble around while the experts determined my fate. That's still happening. It's been over two months now.
When you get old, things get weird. In the cardiologist's waiting room today were people using rollaters (as I was) and canes. One even came in a wheelchair. How dedicated can a doctor be when the people he is seeing are old and the quality of their lives is challenged? All I want out of existence right now is to be happy and secure. Both are subjective. Today, the doc asked me if I was still living alone and able to take care of myself and my home unassisted. The answer is no. Yes, I am still living alone, but no, I can no longer do it all by myself...and it kills me. In my brain, I'm still young. My body says otherwise.
In spite of all, I keep moving. That's the only answer. Never give up. Keep trying. If you can't do it all, ask for help. My father, in his old age, as I was leaving his home to go back to my own always said, "Go slow." Daddy, I am! Believe me...I am!
If you have followed me, you know that I tore a meniscus in my left knee on February 11th. I did the ER, a follow-up with an orthopedist, two knee shots a week apart thinking that the knee was simply arthritic when I knew better, and a physical therapy session. All of those had co-pays of $40-$45 each trip. Then the orthopedist ordered an MRI. Finally, a diagnosis! So then there was the appointment with the surgeon for arthroscopic surgery....and a note to my cardiologist to ask permission for me to be off aspirin for a week prior to surgery. Of course, the cardiologist only saw "knee surgery" and assumed I was getting a knee replacement rather than the two-poke arthroscopy...so he required that I come in a couple of months prior to my usual annual visit. Can you see the dollar signs adding up?
I had that appointment today. For the second time in a week, I had an EKG, blood work, BP check, etc. All was well...but...at issue is the fact that one of my feet--the one on the injured leg--keeps swelling. Being a "testing" kind of doc, my cardiologist has ordered a stress test to rule out congestive heart failure. I'm thankful for that, but I just keep wondering where all the money is going to come from to take care of what isn't covered my Medicare/United. He wants the stress test to take place before the surgery next Wednesday. Ugh! This isn't a treadmill test because I am physically unable to do that. It involves injecting meds that will make my heart race, and I'm not comfortable with that because it is out of my control. Hopefully, all will be well. I'll soon know!
What I am finding out is that everything is intertwined. We've done it to ourselves. In our litigious society, everything that goes wrong has to be someone's fault, right? I admit that I was perturbed at the first orthopedist that I saw before he ordered the MRI because I knew the problem was more than just arthritis. Would I sue him? No. He told me, and I believe him, that insurance is reluctant to pay for expensive tests before other therapies are tried first. We did the other therapies. They didn't work. The only person and/or company that was hurt was ME. I continued to hobble around while the experts determined my fate. That's still happening. It's been over two months now.
When you get old, things get weird. In the cardiologist's waiting room today were people using rollaters (as I was) and canes. One even came in a wheelchair. How dedicated can a doctor be when the people he is seeing are old and the quality of their lives is challenged? All I want out of existence right now is to be happy and secure. Both are subjective. Today, the doc asked me if I was still living alone and able to take care of myself and my home unassisted. The answer is no. Yes, I am still living alone, but no, I can no longer do it all by myself...and it kills me. In my brain, I'm still young. My body says otherwise.
In spite of all, I keep moving. That's the only answer. Never give up. Keep trying. If you can't do it all, ask for help. My father, in his old age, as I was leaving his home to go back to my own always said, "Go slow." Daddy, I am! Believe me...I am!
Monday, April 17, 2017
Update on the Bird Situation
These many weeks after my prior post about the resident robin that is messing up my car, he's still at it! The vehicle has been washed three times, but the wash is undone within an hour. The last wash was at the hands of my neighbor, Fred, who took pity on me and volunteered, unbidden, to wash the bird poop off. Thank you, Freddie!
The Fred car wash just happened this morning. It did result in one nice thing (other than a clean car). A year or two ago, I bought one of those "as seen on TV" things at the local grocery store. I never used it. It was a tiny little garden hose, all crinkled up, that promised to uncrinkle when water goes through it. When Fred was looking for my hose to wash off my car, I offered him that. He put it on the spigot, and voila! The hose uncrinkled and worked charmingly! One thing the advertising did NOT say was whether the hose would shrink back up when the water was turned off. Guess what? It did! It is now in the front of the house, very inconspicuous, but handy. Patting myself on the back over that one!
I've had all kinds of suggestions from well-meaning people about how to discourage the bird. I've tried one or two, but none have worked. The others just aren't feasible for me. Don't get me wrong: I love my robins. Love seeing and hearing them when they return to the neighborhood after the winter; love listening to them sing the sun up in the mornings; get cracked up by watching them feed their demanding young'uns who are every bit as big as the adults. This is the very first year that I have ever had this problem with a bird like this. Unfortunately, I know that robins return to the same yards after migration for years. When the robins head south for the winter, I may not be done with this. It could happen again next season!
The Fred car wash just happened this morning. It did result in one nice thing (other than a clean car). A year or two ago, I bought one of those "as seen on TV" things at the local grocery store. I never used it. It was a tiny little garden hose, all crinkled up, that promised to uncrinkle when water goes through it. When Fred was looking for my hose to wash off my car, I offered him that. He put it on the spigot, and voila! The hose uncrinkled and worked charmingly! One thing the advertising did NOT say was whether the hose would shrink back up when the water was turned off. Guess what? It did! It is now in the front of the house, very inconspicuous, but handy. Patting myself on the back over that one!
I've had all kinds of suggestions from well-meaning people about how to discourage the bird. I've tried one or two, but none have worked. The others just aren't feasible for me. Don't get me wrong: I love my robins. Love seeing and hearing them when they return to the neighborhood after the winter; love listening to them sing the sun up in the mornings; get cracked up by watching them feed their demanding young'uns who are every bit as big as the adults. This is the very first year that I have ever had this problem with a bird like this. Unfortunately, I know that robins return to the same yards after migration for years. When the robins head south for the winter, I may not be done with this. It could happen again next season!
Friday, April 7, 2017
Update on the Long, Sad Knee Saga
So...I met with the orthopedic surgeon yesterday. He shared my knee x-rays with me and said they were "remarkably good-looking" for a person my age. Score one! He did NOT share any of the MRI shots with me because there were so many of them, but he said they showed a meniscus tear. He compared it to having a rock in your shoe. You can do whatever you want to make it feel better, but it won't ever be "right" until the rock is removed.
The meniscus is cartilage. It doesn't have much of a blood supply, so it usually doesn't get better by itself. The surgeon suggested that he would do the "two-poke" arthroscopic surgery to trim away what is torn and let it heal. Surgery is outpatient; general anesthesia; 20-25 minutes; no physical restrictions after....piece-o-cake!
Surgery is arranged for April 26th. I have a babysitter to help. I have a small house all on one level, with a commode to make life easier.
I can do this! God provides!
The meniscus is cartilage. It doesn't have much of a blood supply, so it usually doesn't get better by itself. The surgeon suggested that he would do the "two-poke" arthroscopic surgery to trim away what is torn and let it heal. Surgery is outpatient; general anesthesia; 20-25 minutes; no physical restrictions after....piece-o-cake!
Surgery is arranged for April 26th. I have a babysitter to help. I have a small house all on one level, with a commode to make life easier.
I can do this! God provides!
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
The Bird Is the Word
Two days ago, while sitting at my computer and looking out the bay window in the living room, I noticed a robin fluttering around the passenger side window and side-view mirror of my car. Cute, I thought. I've heard of birds taking issue with their own reflections. He'll give up in a bit, I thought.
That's where I was wrong. He didn't give up, but he did change sides of the car. On the driver's side, in my direct eyesight, he was fluttering at the window, then standing on top of the side-view mirror, over and over and over again. He would then advance to the hood of the car and peck at the windshield, then go back to the side door. This went on all day.
The next day, he was still at it. (I actually think it might have been a "she" because the bird was not as brightly colored as male birds tend to be, but I'm calling it "he" because...well...just because.) Only this time, the "carnage" to my car was obvious. There was a veritable river of white/black bird poop on the back side of the black mirror and down the whole door or the silver vehicle. Ewww....!
By late afternoon, I took the car to a Crew Car Wash here in Plainfield. It's mostly automated but the attendants do pressure-spray the side of the car before it enters the robot machines. Cost of the cheapest car wash: $9. The buggy actually was in need of a bath, so I didn't resent the expenditure too much, except for the fact that I was already down to only a few dollars left in my checking account due to all of the expenses of the month. (I'm already into my savings by at least $400 this month and didn't want to dig into it more just to clean off bird poop!) The wash didn't remove all of the bird stuff but did take care of most of it.
When I got home, I put a plastic grocery bag over the driver's side mirror and also stuck one in the window in an effort to keep Mr. Robin away. It didn't work! He just went back to the passenger side. Sooo...I went out and did the same thing to the passenger's side. Next thing I knew, he was back to the driver's side but had changed locations to the back seat window, and the stream of white "stuff" was just now in a different place on my newly-washed car!
Don't get me wrong. I love the songbirds--and all of nature, really--but I was just about ready to throttle one highly-persistent robin! Thereafter, until he found a place to roost at dusk, every time I saw him, I opened the front door and chased him off. I'm thinking six or seven times.
So far today, I haven't seen him. (Hate to say it for fear of jinxing myself.) I'm not sure what his natural instincts are. Is he a male seeing another male to fight in his reflection? Is he a male trying to woo what he thinks could be a mate in the window? Is it a female defending nesting territory with another offending bird too close to a nest? Wish I knew! I know that birds are intelligent creatures. Maybe more intelligent than we humans who are trying to figure them out!
Another car wash is in order. Hope it can wait a few more days until pension payday. The robin has all of the big bad wonderful world to be in, and it/he/she targets my car?? Word!
That's where I was wrong. He didn't give up, but he did change sides of the car. On the driver's side, in my direct eyesight, he was fluttering at the window, then standing on top of the side-view mirror, over and over and over again. He would then advance to the hood of the car and peck at the windshield, then go back to the side door. This went on all day.
The next day, he was still at it. (I actually think it might have been a "she" because the bird was not as brightly colored as male birds tend to be, but I'm calling it "he" because...well...just because.) Only this time, the "carnage" to my car was obvious. There was a veritable river of white/black bird poop on the back side of the black mirror and down the whole door or the silver vehicle. Ewww....!
By late afternoon, I took the car to a Crew Car Wash here in Plainfield. It's mostly automated but the attendants do pressure-spray the side of the car before it enters the robot machines. Cost of the cheapest car wash: $9. The buggy actually was in need of a bath, so I didn't resent the expenditure too much, except for the fact that I was already down to only a few dollars left in my checking account due to all of the expenses of the month. (I'm already into my savings by at least $400 this month and didn't want to dig into it more just to clean off bird poop!) The wash didn't remove all of the bird stuff but did take care of most of it.
When I got home, I put a plastic grocery bag over the driver's side mirror and also stuck one in the window in an effort to keep Mr. Robin away. It didn't work! He just went back to the passenger side. Sooo...I went out and did the same thing to the passenger's side. Next thing I knew, he was back to the driver's side but had changed locations to the back seat window, and the stream of white "stuff" was just now in a different place on my newly-washed car!
Don't get me wrong. I love the songbirds--and all of nature, really--but I was just about ready to throttle one highly-persistent robin! Thereafter, until he found a place to roost at dusk, every time I saw him, I opened the front door and chased him off. I'm thinking six or seven times.
So far today, I haven't seen him. (Hate to say it for fear of jinxing myself.) I'm not sure what his natural instincts are. Is he a male seeing another male to fight in his reflection? Is he a male trying to woo what he thinks could be a mate in the window? Is it a female defending nesting territory with another offending bird too close to a nest? Wish I knew! I know that birds are intelligent creatures. Maybe more intelligent than we humans who are trying to figure them out!
Another car wash is in order. Hope it can wait a few more days until pension payday. The robin has all of the big bad wonderful world to be in, and it/he/she targets my car?? Word!
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Visit From My Sister
My sister, Shari, came here on February 25th in preparation to celebrate my 70th birthday (on March 2nd). We did what we always do...ate, drank, talked, and commiserated about being old. (Shari is 75.)
Shari had to come on a bit different route than usual because of some road construction close to my home. (Less than five miles from here.) I had given her instructions, but she got bumfuzzled and managed to have a fender-bender with another car at an intersection maybe a mile from here. Ugh!
I'll get the dates wrong, but we had a good time. It was her whole focus to take me somewhere special to eat for my birthday. I mulled it over in my mind for days...and then, out of nowhere, my daughter in Seattle suggested that we needed to see a show. BINGO! I checked to see what Beef and Boards Dinner Theater in Indy was showing. Turned out to be Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, which I had never seen but always wanted to. Thus, in an instant, our birthday decision was made and paid for. (Thank you, Shari!!)
Thereafter, before and after--whatever--we shopped at Kohl's so Shari could spend her coupons. (She spent it all on me.) We drove up to Indy's north side to shop at Trader Joe's. Shari LOVES the Charles Shaw white zinfandel that TJ's sells, so she buys a whole case, because it's cheap. (Called "Two-Buck Chuck" by many.) We ate at Waffle House one morning; Bob Evans another day...and, of course, the piece-de-resistance: Beef and Boards Dinner Theater. Interspersed in there were visits to the orthopedist for steroid knee shots due to my injury. (See previous post.)
My Birthday was March 2nd. We left for Beef and Boards plenty early. I had good directions to get there but had never driven there myself, even though I had been there two times before. I got us in the right neighborhood but kept turning the wrong say until Shari said, "Go that way. We haven't done that before." And there it was. She got stuck dropping me off at the door and parking the car because I really wasn't walking well with the knee injury. The food was pretty good. (Our server carried my buffet-served foods back to the table for me so I could utilize my hands to get up the stairs.) They announced my birthday from the stage, along with others (but mine got the most applause because I was the oldest)! The show was fantastic. The trip home was easy, so we basked in the afterglow for a day or two. What a great time!!
Shari was slated to go home on March 6th. Her dog was in a boarding kennel at home...and she was worried about getting her bills paid. What I haven't mentioned so far is that on her arrival, she had only just barely been released by her doctor to come here. She was being treated for pneumonia for the second time since September and had antibiotics to take, etc. But when it came time to go home, she really wasn't feeling well. Complained of feeling jittery and weak. We postponed her trip for a couple of days. At one point, she had mixed an alcoholic drink with meds that clearly said not to...and suddenly, she was on the floor, unable to get up. A friend was here. The two of us got her up, and after the friend left, I got Shari to her bed. I figured that would be the end of it...but suddenly, she was up again and on the floor again. I tried to get her back to the bed but couldn't, so I called the paramedics. They checked her for a stroke and took her "vitals". By this time, she was answering them clearly, so we both went to bed. I was getting scared....
A day or two later, Shari began to complain of severe chest pain. She was certain it wasn't heart-related, but she was VERY uncomfortable, shaky on her feet, nauseated, and had chills and a fever. I called for the paramedics again and determined she needed to go to the ER. I got there maybe 30 minutes behind the ambulance that transported her. They x-rayed her lungs, gave her morphine and a prescription for pain meds and antibiotics, saying her pneumonia was back, big time, and that she should check in with her doctor when she got home. Then sent her back to my house.
Go home? She was almost 200 miles from home and not capable of driving due to her condition and the meds she was given. In the course of all of this, I had an MRI on my knee which showed a torn meniscus. She drives a Tahoe. I couldn't even get in it to drive her home if I needed to! Thus, we called her daughter and son-in-law to drive over from Greenview, IL, to drive her and her car back to Springfield, IL--March 18th, a full 12 days after her original departure date, with no relief in sight.
Laurie and Danny got here about noon. They got her packed up, fed (although she couldn't eat much), and headed back west at about 4:00. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't happy for her to leave, but she was very, very sick, and there was virtually nothing I could do for her here. I could barely take care of myself! I was happy that she would be on her own turf with her own support system and doctors that know her.
They got home safely. This was last Sunday. Laurie stayed with her that night and called Shari's pulmonologist for an appointment the next morning. Her earliest appointment was Wednesday, at which point, the doctor plopped her in the hospital, where she still is as of this writing. She was/is quite ill, and it happened right under my nose!
I have talked to her almost every day by phone. Her biggest regret is that she can't be here for my knee surgery which isn't even scheduled yet. She is worried about me when she is a whole lot sicker than I am!!!!
I don't know what God has in store for either of us, but I DO know that she doesn't have to be here for me to know that she loves me. And I hope she understands the same about me.
May the Lord watch between thee and me, while we are apart, one from the other, dear sister. I love you! Get well!
Shari had to come on a bit different route than usual because of some road construction close to my home. (Less than five miles from here.) I had given her instructions, but she got bumfuzzled and managed to have a fender-bender with another car at an intersection maybe a mile from here. Ugh!
I'll get the dates wrong, but we had a good time. It was her whole focus to take me somewhere special to eat for my birthday. I mulled it over in my mind for days...and then, out of nowhere, my daughter in Seattle suggested that we needed to see a show. BINGO! I checked to see what Beef and Boards Dinner Theater in Indy was showing. Turned out to be Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, which I had never seen but always wanted to. Thus, in an instant, our birthday decision was made and paid for. (Thank you, Shari!!)
Thereafter, before and after--whatever--we shopped at Kohl's so Shari could spend her coupons. (She spent it all on me.) We drove up to Indy's north side to shop at Trader Joe's. Shari LOVES the Charles Shaw white zinfandel that TJ's sells, so she buys a whole case, because it's cheap. (Called "Two-Buck Chuck" by many.) We ate at Waffle House one morning; Bob Evans another day...and, of course, the piece-de-resistance: Beef and Boards Dinner Theater. Interspersed in there were visits to the orthopedist for steroid knee shots due to my injury. (See previous post.)
My Birthday was March 2nd. We left for Beef and Boards plenty early. I had good directions to get there but had never driven there myself, even though I had been there two times before. I got us in the right neighborhood but kept turning the wrong say until Shari said, "Go that way. We haven't done that before." And there it was. She got stuck dropping me off at the door and parking the car because I really wasn't walking well with the knee injury. The food was pretty good. (Our server carried my buffet-served foods back to the table for me so I could utilize my hands to get up the stairs.) They announced my birthday from the stage, along with others (but mine got the most applause because I was the oldest)! The show was fantastic. The trip home was easy, so we basked in the afterglow for a day or two. What a great time!!
Shari was slated to go home on March 6th. Her dog was in a boarding kennel at home...and she was worried about getting her bills paid. What I haven't mentioned so far is that on her arrival, she had only just barely been released by her doctor to come here. She was being treated for pneumonia for the second time since September and had antibiotics to take, etc. But when it came time to go home, she really wasn't feeling well. Complained of feeling jittery and weak. We postponed her trip for a couple of days. At one point, she had mixed an alcoholic drink with meds that clearly said not to...and suddenly, she was on the floor, unable to get up. A friend was here. The two of us got her up, and after the friend left, I got Shari to her bed. I figured that would be the end of it...but suddenly, she was up again and on the floor again. I tried to get her back to the bed but couldn't, so I called the paramedics. They checked her for a stroke and took her "vitals". By this time, she was answering them clearly, so we both went to bed. I was getting scared....
A day or two later, Shari began to complain of severe chest pain. She was certain it wasn't heart-related, but she was VERY uncomfortable, shaky on her feet, nauseated, and had chills and a fever. I called for the paramedics again and determined she needed to go to the ER. I got there maybe 30 minutes behind the ambulance that transported her. They x-rayed her lungs, gave her morphine and a prescription for pain meds and antibiotics, saying her pneumonia was back, big time, and that she should check in with her doctor when she got home. Then sent her back to my house.
Go home? She was almost 200 miles from home and not capable of driving due to her condition and the meds she was given. In the course of all of this, I had an MRI on my knee which showed a torn meniscus. She drives a Tahoe. I couldn't even get in it to drive her home if I needed to! Thus, we called her daughter and son-in-law to drive over from Greenview, IL, to drive her and her car back to Springfield, IL--March 18th, a full 12 days after her original departure date, with no relief in sight.
Laurie and Danny got here about noon. They got her packed up, fed (although she couldn't eat much), and headed back west at about 4:00. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't happy for her to leave, but she was very, very sick, and there was virtually nothing I could do for her here. I could barely take care of myself! I was happy that she would be on her own turf with her own support system and doctors that know her.
They got home safely. This was last Sunday. Laurie stayed with her that night and called Shari's pulmonologist for an appointment the next morning. Her earliest appointment was Wednesday, at which point, the doctor plopped her in the hospital, where she still is as of this writing. She was/is quite ill, and it happened right under my nose!
I have talked to her almost every day by phone. Her biggest regret is that she can't be here for my knee surgery which isn't even scheduled yet. She is worried about me when she is a whole lot sicker than I am!!!!
I don't know what God has in store for either of us, but I DO know that she doesn't have to be here for me to know that she loves me. And I hope she understands the same about me.
May the Lord watch between thee and me, while we are apart, one from the other, dear sister. I love you! Get well!
Friday, March 24, 2017
The Long, Sad Saga of My Left Knee
It's been awhile since I last posted in this blog. As my former mother-in-law used to say, I don't know where the time goes, but it does. I posted all about my Seattle trip in December after my sister and I returned to the Midwest. And then New Year's Eve happened, and then MLK Day, and Groundhog Day...and the world just kept on turning.
Early in the morning of February 11th, I was up early, as usual. My first excursion out of bed is to head for the bathroom, as usual. And, as usual, I got there...except...just as I got to the bathroom door, my left knee blew out. I don't know how else to describe it. It was sudden and excruciating pain. I couldn't bear any weight on it at all. The pain almost put me to the floor--and I'm not particularly a pain weenie. I grabbed the bathroom doorknob which is, fortunately, close to the toilet so I could lower myself down and take care of business, but then I had to figure out how to maneuver to the rest of the house to summon help.
Usually, when I have something that hurts, I give it a little time, and usually, the pain subsides. That wasn't happening this time. I stumbled and bumbled and hung onto furniture surfaces to wend my way to the kitchen chair where I keep my "nest". On the way, I grabbed the house phone so I could call my Nosy Neighbor Fred, across the street. It was maybe 8:00 AM by this time. Fred has a key to my house because he and/or his wife pick up my mail for me when I am traveling. Fortunately, they are early-risers, like me.
I wasn't decent. I was covered only in a t-shirt and underwear, but there was a small throw blanket in the kitchen by my nest chair that I could reach, so I covered myself with that. When he came in, I told Fred where he could find my robe so I could cover up, then made him turn his head while I put it on. Another crisis averted! Fred brought my rollater in from the car. (A rollater is a walker on wheels that has a seat in the middle. I take it with me at all times in case I have to shop in a place that doesn't have carts to lean on or places to sit.) I could tell immediately that it wasn't going to help my mobility, so I asked if he could go to the drug store to buy me some crutches. God bless him, he did. I didn't have any cash on hand to send with him, so he bought them with his own money, with the understanding that I would pay him back as soon as I got some money.
When I was a kid, it was fun to play with people's crutches. I can now tell you from personal experience that crutches aren't fun if you actually need them. It took me a bit to understand the dynamics of how to use them while trying to keep one leg off the ground. Ugh!
I kept the phone with me in my robe pocket. It was probably noon or so before I figured out that I needed medical help. I needed to go to the ER, which is 15 miles away. (Prompt Care wouldn't do.) I reasoned I would probably need an ambulance because I had NO idea how I could possibly get from the house to a car. And so I called Judy Heffelman.
I wouldn't know much about Judy were it not for the fact that her youngest son and my only daughter were married once. We share two beautiful grandchildren. We go to the same church. Judy and her husband are pillars of the church, and we share experiences and holidays together as family even though our kids are divorced. We decided as an entity back at divorce time that we would stay strong with both of our children for the sake of our grandkids. It has worked. And since I no longer have any blood family anywhere close to me, Judy and Phil are my go-to people in emergencies. It's a big-time plus that Judy is also a retired RN and has been relied on by virtually every "alone" friend for help. She has a HUGE heart!
Within an hour or less, Judy showed up on my doorstep with a wheelchair. I went to the hospital ER in a robe and slippers, totally in need of a shower but too desperate to do more than just wash up as best I could.
Judy stayed with me in the ER, where they x-rayed and ultrasounded my knee and leg. They were looking for broken bones, blood clot, bad circulation, and/or baker's cyst. Nothing. I was given prescriptions for pain meds, advised to see an orthopedist, and sent home with the diagnosis of "knee pain." DUH!!!!
We left the hospital around 7:00 PM or so. We stopped at a McD's because we were hungry before heading back to Plainfield. Stopped at the Walgreen's in Plainfield to turn in the prescriptions, then came home and wrangled me back in the house. Judy then went back to Walgreen's to pick up the prescriptions with the last of my cash. It had been a long day for both of us! Judy never complained, bless her heart. I'm sure she could have thought of a hundred other things to do with her Saturday afternoon and most of that evening. She didn't want to leave me, but armed with heavy drug meds and the inability to walk around to get in trouble, I assured her I would be okay. And I was.
The next day, after church, Judy came back over to check on me. I sent her out with my debit card to get me a shower stool and a "grabber" to pick stuff up off the floor, and get me some cash. Of course, she brought food. By this time, I was motivating with just one crutch because I had figured out how to do it, and the pain meds helped a bunch.
I had prescriptions for Naproxen and Hydrocodone. Although they helped with the pain, they also upset my stomach, so I stopped taking them. By this time, the pain wasn't bad enough to make them necessary. (I wouldn't be a very good prescription pill abuser. I hate those things!)
That Monday, I called the orthopedist for an appointment. It took 1 1/2 weeks to get in to see him. Judy took me. My knee was x-rayed again. The orthopedist said my knee was arthritic and recommended steroid shots and physical therapy. I passed on the shot that day--only because I remember my big, strapping father complaining that the cortisone shot he got in his shoulder for bursitis was the worst pain he had ever felt. Buuut...my sister convinced me that I should go back for the shot because "they help". So I scheduled another appointment a week later. Took the shot and scheduled myself for physical therapy that same day. (Are you following me, so far?? I swear I wasn't told that the knee injection was a 3-shot deal. The doc says he told me....) The physical therapist put a knee sleeve on my knee and most just did an assessment, but gave me an exercise to do in between visits.
Here I should probably mention that every one of my visits to the orthopedist carried a $45 co-pay, and every visit to PT would cost $40. Originally, I was scheduled for PT twice a week until I found out the financial part. I scheduled it for once a week...but then life happened.
After the second knee injection, with my concerns that they weren't helping and that I doubted the arthritis diagnosis, the orthopedist finally ordered an MRI. I wasn't doubting the doctor, per se. I was mostly musing that if my knee were simply arthritic, it would have hurt over a longer period of time--not just WHAM! To the doctor's credit, he understood that insurance companies and Medicare don't particularly like paying for expensive tests before cheaper therapies are tried first. (Of course, they don't care how much we suffer in the meantime!!) Thus, the MRI was scheduled locally for the day before my third scheduled knee shot.
When I arrived at the orthopedist's office, he announced that there was "news". The MRI showed a torn meniscus. All I could say was, "Oh, thank God!" I was so concerned that the MRI would show nothing, in spite of my pain and suffering. The knee injection was canceled; the physical therapy was canceled; the orthopedist washed his hands of me, saying that I would now be in the hands of a surgeon to perform arthroscopic surgery--"two poke" surgery. Yay!
Well...yay only for a moment. I had to set up an appointment with the surgeon from that office...but he would be "out" the next week, and was highly-scheduled for the week after that....so....I don't even get a consultation for surgery until April 6th!!!! Almost two months after the initial injury. I'm getting around. I have a cane, crutches, a grabber, a shower seat and a tub grabber...etc. I hate this but am dealing with it. It's hell to get old, but I'm happy to be alive.
Early in the morning of February 11th, I was up early, as usual. My first excursion out of bed is to head for the bathroom, as usual. And, as usual, I got there...except...just as I got to the bathroom door, my left knee blew out. I don't know how else to describe it. It was sudden and excruciating pain. I couldn't bear any weight on it at all. The pain almost put me to the floor--and I'm not particularly a pain weenie. I grabbed the bathroom doorknob which is, fortunately, close to the toilet so I could lower myself down and take care of business, but then I had to figure out how to maneuver to the rest of the house to summon help.
Usually, when I have something that hurts, I give it a little time, and usually, the pain subsides. That wasn't happening this time. I stumbled and bumbled and hung onto furniture surfaces to wend my way to the kitchen chair where I keep my "nest". On the way, I grabbed the house phone so I could call my Nosy Neighbor Fred, across the street. It was maybe 8:00 AM by this time. Fred has a key to my house because he and/or his wife pick up my mail for me when I am traveling. Fortunately, they are early-risers, like me.
I wasn't decent. I was covered only in a t-shirt and underwear, but there was a small throw blanket in the kitchen by my nest chair that I could reach, so I covered myself with that. When he came in, I told Fred where he could find my robe so I could cover up, then made him turn his head while I put it on. Another crisis averted! Fred brought my rollater in from the car. (A rollater is a walker on wheels that has a seat in the middle. I take it with me at all times in case I have to shop in a place that doesn't have carts to lean on or places to sit.) I could tell immediately that it wasn't going to help my mobility, so I asked if he could go to the drug store to buy me some crutches. God bless him, he did. I didn't have any cash on hand to send with him, so he bought them with his own money, with the understanding that I would pay him back as soon as I got some money.
When I was a kid, it was fun to play with people's crutches. I can now tell you from personal experience that crutches aren't fun if you actually need them. It took me a bit to understand the dynamics of how to use them while trying to keep one leg off the ground. Ugh!
I kept the phone with me in my robe pocket. It was probably noon or so before I figured out that I needed medical help. I needed to go to the ER, which is 15 miles away. (Prompt Care wouldn't do.) I reasoned I would probably need an ambulance because I had NO idea how I could possibly get from the house to a car. And so I called Judy Heffelman.
I wouldn't know much about Judy were it not for the fact that her youngest son and my only daughter were married once. We share two beautiful grandchildren. We go to the same church. Judy and her husband are pillars of the church, and we share experiences and holidays together as family even though our kids are divorced. We decided as an entity back at divorce time that we would stay strong with both of our children for the sake of our grandkids. It has worked. And since I no longer have any blood family anywhere close to me, Judy and Phil are my go-to people in emergencies. It's a big-time plus that Judy is also a retired RN and has been relied on by virtually every "alone" friend for help. She has a HUGE heart!
Within an hour or less, Judy showed up on my doorstep with a wheelchair. I went to the hospital ER in a robe and slippers, totally in need of a shower but too desperate to do more than just wash up as best I could.
Judy stayed with me in the ER, where they x-rayed and ultrasounded my knee and leg. They were looking for broken bones, blood clot, bad circulation, and/or baker's cyst. Nothing. I was given prescriptions for pain meds, advised to see an orthopedist, and sent home with the diagnosis of "knee pain." DUH!!!!
We left the hospital around 7:00 PM or so. We stopped at a McD's because we were hungry before heading back to Plainfield. Stopped at the Walgreen's in Plainfield to turn in the prescriptions, then came home and wrangled me back in the house. Judy then went back to Walgreen's to pick up the prescriptions with the last of my cash. It had been a long day for both of us! Judy never complained, bless her heart. I'm sure she could have thought of a hundred other things to do with her Saturday afternoon and most of that evening. She didn't want to leave me, but armed with heavy drug meds and the inability to walk around to get in trouble, I assured her I would be okay. And I was.
The next day, after church, Judy came back over to check on me. I sent her out with my debit card to get me a shower stool and a "grabber" to pick stuff up off the floor, and get me some cash. Of course, she brought food. By this time, I was motivating with just one crutch because I had figured out how to do it, and the pain meds helped a bunch.
I had prescriptions for Naproxen and Hydrocodone. Although they helped with the pain, they also upset my stomach, so I stopped taking them. By this time, the pain wasn't bad enough to make them necessary. (I wouldn't be a very good prescription pill abuser. I hate those things!)
That Monday, I called the orthopedist for an appointment. It took 1 1/2 weeks to get in to see him. Judy took me. My knee was x-rayed again. The orthopedist said my knee was arthritic and recommended steroid shots and physical therapy. I passed on the shot that day--only because I remember my big, strapping father complaining that the cortisone shot he got in his shoulder for bursitis was the worst pain he had ever felt. Buuut...my sister convinced me that I should go back for the shot because "they help". So I scheduled another appointment a week later. Took the shot and scheduled myself for physical therapy that same day. (Are you following me, so far?? I swear I wasn't told that the knee injection was a 3-shot deal. The doc says he told me....) The physical therapist put a knee sleeve on my knee and most just did an assessment, but gave me an exercise to do in between visits.
Here I should probably mention that every one of my visits to the orthopedist carried a $45 co-pay, and every visit to PT would cost $40. Originally, I was scheduled for PT twice a week until I found out the financial part. I scheduled it for once a week...but then life happened.
After the second knee injection, with my concerns that they weren't helping and that I doubted the arthritis diagnosis, the orthopedist finally ordered an MRI. I wasn't doubting the doctor, per se. I was mostly musing that if my knee were simply arthritic, it would have hurt over a longer period of time--not just WHAM! To the doctor's credit, he understood that insurance companies and Medicare don't particularly like paying for expensive tests before cheaper therapies are tried first. (Of course, they don't care how much we suffer in the meantime!!) Thus, the MRI was scheduled locally for the day before my third scheduled knee shot.
When I arrived at the orthopedist's office, he announced that there was "news". The MRI showed a torn meniscus. All I could say was, "Oh, thank God!" I was so concerned that the MRI would show nothing, in spite of my pain and suffering. The knee injection was canceled; the physical therapy was canceled; the orthopedist washed his hands of me, saying that I would now be in the hands of a surgeon to perform arthroscopic surgery--"two poke" surgery. Yay!
Well...yay only for a moment. I had to set up an appointment with the surgeon from that office...but he would be "out" the next week, and was highly-scheduled for the week after that....so....I don't even get a consultation for surgery until April 6th!!!! Almost two months after the initial injury. I'm getting around. I have a cane, crutches, a grabber, a shower seat and a tub grabber...etc. I hate this but am dealing with it. It's hell to get old, but I'm happy to be alive.
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