Some things I’ve learned from a knee replacement surgery:
Don’t ever sit in a chair with wheels (unless you want to go to the next room or possibly outside very quickly).
The walker is your friend. Yes, it’s ugly, scares the cat half to death and is incredibly clumsy, but use it you must unless you feel an urgent need to return to the hospital.
Under no circumstances, turn on the TV during the day. Unless your selection is far broader than mine, you will “enjoy” incredibly old series such as all the various SVUs and CSIs and be treated to topical comedy shows from the Bush I years.
Radio – remember radio? The music on KPAC is always there for you and something wonderful by Mozart may even help you forget how much your new knee hurts. There’s also that collection of CDs awaiting you; never mind about the Christmas ones – it’s too depressing to think about all those people having fun in the snow when you can’t even get out of the house. Go for the strings: guitars, violins, violas, cellos (always cellos!). They soothe. Brass is just too – well – brassy and winds just make me wish for spring. Strings are the way to go.
Go for the strings: guitars, violins, violas, cellos (always cellos!). They soothe. Brass is just too – well – brassy and winds just make me wish for spring. Strings are the way to go.
The surgeon is dedicated to the strange notion that hacking into your leg will not have painful after- effects, therefore he has enriched your pharmacy with prescriptions for virtually every pain killer known. Now, I’m not saying you should eschew chemical assistance in your recovery, just beware. You have to remember that if you’re taking any of this stuff you cannot drink any, and I mean any alcohol. Everyone toasting the New Year? Put water in a champagne glass and pretend. Furthermore, even if you haven’t had even a teensy-weensy sip of wine, you will most assuredly stagger around like a drunken sailor. These pharmaceuticals will, I guarantee, cloud your thinking (just try to do a NY Times Crossword puzzle!) and seriously impede judgement (as in, “I don’t think I need the walker anymore”). So you want to go back to the hospital with a broken hip?
Grin and bear it. People will send you cards and flowers and chocolates. You’ll receive charming e-mails. Don’t mess with the Oxycontin: pain builds character. Turn on your favorite music, sip some water and aim to be able to make it to the next San Antonio Chamber Music Society concert on April 23. You can do it!
– E Doyle