Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The Scope of a Scope

I had my left knee 'scoped' on Wednesday, May 16. The real name for the procedure is an arthroscopy I call this a manicure for my knee--the surgeon goes in and smooths over the rough edges of bones that have deteriorated due to arthritis. Those rough edges tear things like the meniscus and cartilage much like a torn fingernail snags on everything you touch.
By my rough calculations, this is the 7th knee scope I've had between the two knees. I thought I'd share what my recovery usually looks like by taking you through the past week. It was fairly typical of my past scopes.
My friend Cathi took the day off to be my 'person' (a la Grey's Anatomy). She picked me up at 7:45 and we were in the pre-surgery room by 8:30 with surgery scheduled for 9:30. That hour is always so long--different nurse types asking questions, checking blood pressure, dashing to and fro. Cathi saved some juicy family stories to entertain me with, but I was ready to crawl up the wall by the time the anesthesiologist came to talk to me. After that, everything moved quickly. I was wheeled to the operating room, made about 30 seconds of small talk with the surgeon, moved from the pre-op bed to the operating table, joked about how small the table was, then fell asleep. The recovery room is such a surprise--I just wanna sleep, but people are poking and prodding and talking way too loud to me, so I have to wake up. No knee pain, but a very sore throat. Do I want something to drink? Yes, a Diet Coke please. Thought the fizzy would help the throat. Wrong. Didn't help at all. I don't remember my throat hurting so much before, but it probably did. Back in the pre-surgery room talking to Cathi. Doc says the knee is trashed, probably the last scope before we do a TKR (total knee replacement). Yuck. Don't want to think about that right now. My throat hurts. After about 45 minutes, we leave. I ask Cathi to stop at the Dairy Queen for a milkshake-maybe that will help my throat. Home. Able to walk into the house with crutches. In bed, propped, on ice while Cathi goes to the store for my pain pills and a McDonald's run. Nice friend, huh? I know! Call and text friends that I survived and made it home. Napped. Ate. Rosann and Anita come over to visit and bring ice. My throat hurts. Bad. I have to go to the bathroom again. Really? Unhook the ice machine, grab the crutches, hobble to the bathroom. Reverse the process to get back to bed. Repeat three or four times. Time for bed. Can't sleep. Really? Really! 5 a.m. before I nod off. Crazy.
Thursday at around 11:00 I realized my knee hurt. Really. I hadn't been vigilant in my Lortab taking, so I upped my pills to 2 pills every 4 hours, and I watched the clock, believe you me! This continued through the night and into Friday.
By Friday I was happy to have some company--the boys and Daisy came for a few hours, then Rosann came to watch a movie with me. Smiling and sitting in the recliner with my knee on ice really wore me out!
Saturday morning at 2:00 a.m. I took my last Lortab. I had a hair appointment that I couldn't miss and didn't want to risk being able to drive. My sister came for the day and arrived in time to deliver me to the salon, so I could have taken some pain pills, but by the time we got home, I decided to switch to Tylenol and see how the pain was. No problem! I was kind of grumpy as I came off the pain pill high, but that was the extent of my withdrawal symptoms.
Sunday and Monday were low key--drove myself to the doctor's office for a follow up visit on Monday.
Tuesday I worked all day at Stampin' Up! My knee was tight and tired, but I was able to keep it on ice and elevated. In the afternoon I felt kind of shaky, but I made it through a very important meeting from 1-5, then went home and iced all evening.
Wednesday I took the day off, worked all day Thursday and Friday.
It's Tuesday now and I'm back to work full time and n the swing of things. My left knee gets swollen, but I don't need ice at work any more. I still baby it at home, but other than that, I'm good to go!

No Offense

"No offense, but...." I spend quite a bit of time with my friend Anita's boys and I'm noticing they use this phrase all the time. "Bonnie, no offense, but your handwriting was terrible when you were young." "Bonnie, no offense, but I liked your old house better." Sometimes they make me laugh with things like, "No offense, but I like pepperoni pizza more than cheese pizza." Like I'm invested in their pizza choice!

So here's my question. Does saying "No offense" open the gate to saying anything I want to say? I'm fairly certain the answer is no, but sometimes I hear myself or others use this phrase and kind of smile at the implication--

"No Offense Intended" really means what I'm about to say isn't nice, but since I've called an audible prior to saying it, it's your fault if you are offended.

Here are some other phrases I use and what I really mean when I use them:

"With All Due Respect": You are my superior/friend/respected neighbor but you haven't got a clue and I am politely pointing this out to you.
"Bless Her Heart": Batty old fool.
"To Be Totally Honest": I'm usually lying when I speak with you; this time I'm not.
"Present Company Excepted": Same category as With Due Respect or No Offense Intended, depending on the intention of the comment.

So, with all due respect (present company excepted), I will be totally honest here. I smile to myself a lot when I use or hear others use these phrases.

No offense intended....

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Motivation and Inspiration

It's been a while since I posted about my dieting efforts.
Read between the lines.
I swear I never actually quit dieting--I just quit being obsessed with it. Part of me feels more healthy when I'm not consumed with my consumption, so I try to back-burner the weight loss efforts and go on living.
Wow! That statement says it all, doesn't it? My life depends on confronting this addiction head on--I just get exhausted sometimes.
Last week I had my annual blood work done. The glucose number came back at 127, so we re-tested it. This time it was 128. Diabetes numbers.
My mother was diagnosed with diabetes at the age of 55-ish. She controlled it, was vigilant about her diet and taking her medicine (never needed shots) and monitoring her numbers. Still, diabetes robber her of her sight at the age of 68. She was legally blind when she died at the age of 71. We drove her to appointments, she couldn't teach her Sunday School lessons, she couldn't read (one of her passions) and she couldn't garden (another one).
Diabetes scares me.
After another test, I was cleared of the diabetes scare. Still, I must get moving and I must lose weight to keep this pernicious disease at bay.
So, I'm back on the wagon. Weight Watchers online; diligent tracking; daily walks. Prayer.
After a recent dinner with a friend, we were having an informal family night and reading the scriptures.
“If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” Luke 9:23.
The most important challenge I have to overcome is this food addiction. I must treat each day as a step towards dealing with it. I have to take up this cross daily.