February 3rd, 2011

The BIG Day has come!
I see the surgeon at 3:30 pm to remove my stitches. Then, the big question is when do I start physical therapy? I’m anxious to see my leg. No doubt, it will be white and hairy. I remember my sister’s arm and my daughters’ leg and arms after they broke them. Not a pretty sight.
Then, I wonder if, like a baby who tries her first steps, I will be hesitant and ignorant of what’s expected from me? Or worst, is it possible to forget how to walk on two feet?
For the special occasion, I treat myself to a sponge bath (don’t laugh) and a shampoo (my husband also the gourmet chef helps me tremendously. Thank you!). Then, I dress in real clothes: loose summer pants (the same ones I took after the surgery), a long sleeve blue tee shirt and one of my favorite polka dot scarf (A favorite French women’s accessory). I was getting tired of my bathrobe and my dirty hair.
I miss the sun that has been with us for days now. Through the window I see the tip of the daffodils I planted late fall. I need to trim so much in the garden. I wonder if I will be able to bend my knee. The therapist said I will have about the 70% mobility I had when I saw him first, compared to 115% just before surgery.
For the first time of my life, I am aware of the limits of a body.
It is said that what matters is inside. Well, it may be true but a healthy body guarantees a positive attitude toward life. In my limited body, I feel vulnerable and sometimes bitter. I know it’s all my fault and nobody should feel more responsible than me but being in pain and anxious about my future has changed me.
Today I want to think for the best. I’ll be more grateful for my general health. I’ll be thankful that for 50 years I haven’t had any serious issue.
Probably that in a few weeks or months, I will forget again how lucky I am, because after all, human beings are made that way. Resilient and forgetful.

At the surgeon’s office, a nurse removes my leg brace, then the ice pad, the white stocking that wrapped all of my leg and then the bandages and cotton pad on and around my knee. My leg, naked and weak, seems to belong to someone else. She cleans most of the mess, telling me that I can now take a shower. The healing is looking good, she says. Some of the entry points are even already healed. She removes the stitches and puts some bandages that can be wet and will fall apart in about seven days.
Then the PA I saw the first time returns and readjusts my brace. He says I can start physical therapy right away. I can also walk without the crutches but I can keep them for the first couple of days. I feel much lighter but also fragile. I hesitate to put any weight on my leg and saunters with my crutches outside.
At home, I clean the rest of the mess on my leg and my foot that had been kept in a long tight white sock for seven days. Yuck!
I’m still on Iboprufen for three more weeks. The dose is massive but considering the swelling of the leg, it must be necessary.
Then I call the therapy office hoping to get a first session tomorrow but their earliest opening is Wednesday so Wednesday it is.
They will start easy on you, the PA promised. I’m relieved since tonight I feel lighter but not really on top of my shape.
What a bummer for someone like me who could climb the stairs dozens a time per day without even thinking of it.
The therapy is scheduled for 5 weeks, twice a week, another checkup by the surgeon and again therapy for about 3 months, 3 months and a half.
I count backwards now, praying for the recover to be fast. I don’t want to jeopardize everyone’s deserved summer vacation.
But hope is on its way and I know it’s only patience and will that in the end win so I suck it up and dream of summer.