Pendelton C. Wallace  Author, Adventurer
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The Slow Recovery

3/29/2015

2 Comments

 
Nothing ever goes as planned. Here it is, four weeks after my knee replacement surgery, and I’m still lying in my bed with a lap desk, writing this blog entry. I tried sitting at my desk this morning and just couldn’t do it. I can’t keep my knee down for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

I’m not complaining, mind you (well, not very much anyway). I’m happy with my progress. I have thrown aside the walker and am walking with a cane now. I can get around the house, make coffee and cook my own breakfast or lunch. It’s just taking much longer to recover than I anticipated and the pain is ever present.

I’ve added a couple of videos to show you my progress. The first is about a week after surgery. It is the first time I left the house. You will note my bathrobe. In real life, it is yellow and black. I think this is going to be one of those videos that goes viral because of the controversy over the color, like the blue and white striped dress that showed up as silver and gold on a video a week or so ago. Now I just have to figure out how to include llamas in my next video.

In the second video, I’m about a month out of surgery. You will note that I’m walking with a cane and almost look like a normal person. Or at least as normal as I get.

Anyway, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so here are a couple of thousand words about my progress.
I’m going through much more narcotics than the nurses want me to have. With this last refill, they gave me the warning that its time to start weaning myself off the drugs. I’m really trying, but it really hurts.

I’m supposed to take one Oxycodone tablet every four hours. In the morning this works, but as the day progresses and I put more stress on my new knee, one is not enough. Usually, by about 6 pm, I need a booster. By 8 o’ clock in the evening, I’m hurting so badly that one pill isn’t enough.

I see the doctor on Monday, so we’ll discuss this then.

I’m going stir crazy here. I haven’t been out of the house, except to go to a doctor’s appointment or to see the physical terrorists in a month.

Last Sunday, Dawn took me to a dog show. You read that right. Dog show. I was so desperate to get out of the house that I went with her to see the judging of the Great Danes. 

There were thirty-nine Danes in the show. That’s a lot of dog flesh. That’s somewhere around three tons of dog, folks.

She dropped me off near the entrance, then went to park. I hobbled, with the aid of my walker, to the show ring and set up a camp chair. We sat for an hour or so and watched them judge Great Danes. It was mildly interesting. Dawn, of course, kept up a steady conversation with all of the other Dane lovers at ring side.

After about an hour, I’d had all I could take. My leg was hurting and I wanted to go home. I hobbled back to the parking lot and Dawn brought the truck around. She whisked me home and I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed recovering


On Saturday this week, I had to get out of the house. Dawn loaded Odin and me into the Queen Mary (her 1998 GMC Yukon) and drove us down to the dog beach at Ocean Beach. I took a camp chair and set up on the ridge above the beach while Dawn and Odin climbed down the slope to my idea of hell.

There were several hundred people and dogs playing on the beach. People threw balls and Frisbees for the dogs to chase. Some people spread blankets and lounged on the beach while their beasts ran free.

As I said, I was sitting on a ridge about ten or twelve feet above the beach. A group of boys discovered the ridge. They took a running start, leapt off the ridge and landed in the soft sand below. This attracted a couple of young girls with boogie boards. They started setting their boards on the edge of the cliff, then jumping on and riding them down the steep slope. This went on for at least half an hour, with a proud papa filming the whole affair.

Odin is getting too old to play with the other dogs. He mostly walked around the beach, sat in the warm sand and occasionally fought Dawn for a palm branch.  

Dawn offered to take me to lunch, but I had had enough. My knee was hurting and I just wanted to ice it down and put it up, so we went home.

I met with the surgeon on Monday. He was very pleased with my progress. He says that it will be about a year until the swelling is completely gone. He thinks I’ll be back on my feet (without the use of a cane) by May or June. I am ahead of schedule as far as the physical therapy goes. They measure everything and I’m pushing myself hard and it shows.

Of course, it comes at a cost. I hurt most of the time. After an exercise session or a visit to the physical terrorists, I’m beat. I take my pain pills and collapse for an hour or so.

I am making progress in other areas though. I am able to get my brain clear enough to do some work. I’ve posted my 2014 tax return for Victory Charters, sent in my passport renewal and am following up on my lost boat registration. My big goal for this week is to complete my income tax return.

I’m also easing my way back into writing. I managed to read a substantial section of Bikini Baristas to Dawn. I will send out manuscripts to beta readers this week and get going on my first re-write. I still hope to publish the book this spring, although I must admit that I am about a month behind schedule.

I’m also working on a BookBub promotion, so stay tuned. You just might be interested.

So, all in all, things are looking up. I know that eventually I will get past the surgical pain and I’m working hard at rehabilitating the knee. Now I’m dreaming of getting sailing again.

2 Comments

Surgery

3/4/2015

1 Comment

 
  Last night I was on the roof tops of Santiago, Chile. I was being pursued by CIA operatives with very big guns with silencers who had  received a sanction with extreme prejudice, to kill me. This was cleared all the way to the White House.

I dodged and weaved over the roof tops, leaping from building to building. I had a head set on and Dawn was giving me instructions on where the bad guys were located and how to avoid them.

Bullets crashed into the stonework next to my head and I felt the bite of the stone splinters on my face.

I got to the edge of the roof and it was too far to leap to the next roof. There was a white Toyota pickup driving down the alley below me with something in its bed covered with a green tarp. I leapt. I landed in the pickup bed and pain exploded in my knee.

 Suddenly, I was in bed at home with tears of pain running down my face.

Admittedly, I had watched the Bourne Identity just before going to bed and had watched an episode of House Hunters international in Santiago, Chile that afternoon. But this is how I dream.

The pain was real.

The reports of my death are slightly exaggerated. I know that I have dropped out of sight lately. I have to say that the knee replacement surgery hit me much harder than I expected.

Everyone that I talked to who had the surgery said that they wished they had it ten years sooner or that it was the best thing they’d ever done. Based on that, I expected to be in the hospital for a couple of days, then come home, put my knee up and get back to the keyboard.

NOT!

This is much harder than I had anticipated. The surgery went smoothly. Dawn took me to the hospital Friday morning and they had me in the operating room by noon. The anesthesiologist gave me a shot of Novocain to numb my back, then did a spinal tap. I don’t remember the spinal tap. I remember the Novocain, then the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room. I don't even  remember laying down on the table. All as it should be.

The staff at Palomar Hospital was great. Three times a day, a group of interns came in and introduced themselves, saying that if I needed anything, to just give them a call, then I never saw them again. They were so cute though. It reminded me of when my daughter, Libby, did an internship at our local hospital when she was in high school.

The nurses were great and the pain management was exceptional. The two times the pain got ahead of me, they immediately gave me a shot of Dilaudid and I was flying. Then came the physical terrorists.

The physical terrorists all had grandparents who worked for Dr. Mengele at Auschwitz.  They tugged, twisted and tortured me until I had tears in my eyes, then the nice nurses give me stuff for the pain and it was all right again.

I have to say I was disappointed with the food. Hospitals are making such a big deal of their food these days; I was surprised to find such mediocre food on the menu. I remember some truly great meals with Connie in her hospital visits in Seattle and in the Mexican hospitals we used in La Paz. Not so at Palomar. Just exactly what you would expect for hospital food.

Dawn did go out to a BBQ joint down the street and bring me a pulled pork sandwich one day though. She ate my hospital meal. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

Then came time to go home. I was anxious and excited to get out of the hospital and back home where everything is just like I like it. Well, almost everything.

Did I mention the pain?

This surgery has hurt much more than I expected and the recovery has been much slower.

I can’t seem to keep ahead of the pain. When I am appropriately drugged up, I can do my exercises and hobble around the house with the help of my walker. However, they gave me Oxycodone when I left the hospital, and it just doesn’t do the job. The bottle they gave me was supposed to last two weeks, until my follow up appointment next Friday. It didn’t.

I have been greatly over dosing myself, because I couldn’t stand the pain. And I’m normally no weenie. I usually have a high tolerance for pain, but this has really kicked by butt.

On Friday it was obvious that I would run out of pain pills long before my next appointment, so I called in a refill. They said it would be ready Monday.

I called back on Monday and they didn’t have it. They told me that it usually takes 24 to 48 hours to refill a prescription. I said, “That’s why I called on Friday.”

I spent the whole day on the phone with Kaiser Permanente trying to get a refill yesterday. And I was out of pain medication. I was literally in tears.

During my last call, I cried into the phone “Let me cut your leg open, saw your knee out, then not give you any pain killers and we’ll see how you feel when I tell you I can’t help you.” I admit I got a little nasty. (I’ll also admit to using my acting training in situations like this.) I had to apologize to the nice lady who was helping me, but I was totally frustrated. I gave them two day’s notice and they couldn’t get their act together to get me a refill.

Finally, at 4:40 in the afternoon, they called to say the prescription was ready, but that they closed at 5:30, so I better hurry and get there.

Dawn immediately took off for the hospital, bless her, and got me the drugs.

Since the Oxycodone had been so ineffective, they prescribed Hydrocodone instead.

It’s worse. The Oxycodone held the pain at bay for three hours. The Hydrocode only lasts for two hours. Once again, I’m having to take the medicine at twice the rate the doctor prescribed. I will try it out for today, but if it doesn’t even out, I’ll have to call again tomorrow and subject myself to the horrors of the medical grinder again.

In the meantime, I can’t say enough good stuff about Dawn. She has saved my life. I can’t imagine going through this by myself. She has been there at three in the morning to empty my urinal or make me a quesadilla, she has made all my meals, washed all my clothes, done all of the drudge work around the house with nary a complaint. When I try to thank her, she says that I don’t need to, it’s implied.

Well, I want the whole world to hear that I’m implying thanks to her.

Since you haven’t heard from me for almost two weeks, you can imagine I’m behind in everything. I finished the first draft of Bikini Baristas before I went into the hospital and haven’t looked at it since.

Somehow, the Outlook account on my computer managed to get corrupted and I couldn’t receive email for more than a week. I finally got it fixed yesterday and am back in business, but very far behind. If you’ve emailed me in the last couple of weeks and I haven’t responded, you might want to resend it.

I’m also behind in my posting of chapters of Bikini Baristas on my web site. I’ll post a chapter today and try to catch up before the end of the week. I apologize, but I really didn’t expect this surgery to knock so much wind out of my sails.

For now, it’s just  PT, PT and more PT. From everything I’ve heard and read, the success or failure of knee replacement surgery depends on how hard you work on the physical therapy after the operation. I’m doing my darnedist to meet my obligations and get back on my feet as soon as possible.

I hope that by the time I write my next column, I’ll be well on the way to mending.

1 Comment

    Author

    Pendelton C. Wallace is the best selling author of the Ted Higuera Series and the Catrina Flaherty Mysteries. 

    The Inside Passage, the first in the Ted Higuera series debuted on April 1st,  2014. Hacker for Hire, The Mexican Connection, Bikini Baristas, The Cartel Strikes  Back, and Cyberwarefare are the next books in the series.


    The Catrina Flaherty Mysteries currently consist of four stories, Mirror Image, Murder Strikes Twice, The Chinatown Murders, and the Panama Murders. Expect to see Cat bounce around the Caribbean for a while.

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