Yesterday, I went to see my knee surgeon. I walked in, feeling very proud of myself that I was only using the cane. I was even feeling really good because I actually put on makeup, fixed my hair, and wore a dress. These things have become a vanishing art for me lately. I took my son, Jack, with me, simply because the walk from the parking lot is a little long, and I thought I might need an arm to lean on, which I did.
Now, let me mention that I know my knee doctor quite well. Being the mother of three active teenage boys, Dr. M. has had the opportunity to treat two of them, even performing surgery on the oldest. He is frequently telling my boys to stop hurting themselves, because they are going to make their mother old before her time. Dr. M. has a wonderful bedside manner, and I always enjoy seeing him.
So, they took us back to the exam room, and I must say I enjoyed the one on one time, talking with Jack. We could hear the doctor talking with other patients, and dictating into his little recorder as he walked from one room to the other. The chair I was sitting in was right next to the door, and I felt this warm hand reach into the room and rub my shoulder. Dr. M kept on going, though, on to the room next door to mine.
A few minutes later, he walked into my room and told me that I looked wonderful! A girl can always use another compliment. He spent a minute or two talking to Jack, telling him he was glad he hadn't been to see him in a while. Then Dr. M. took his first look at my knee. He looked up at me and said, "Mama," he has called me that for years, due to seeing the boys, "You are doing very well. The incisions look wonderful."
I thought at that moment that I was doing everything right, and again, I felt quite proud of myself. And then he said something that I didn't see coming. Dr. M. looked me in the eye and told me that I was overdoing it! How could I possibly be overdoing it? I thought to myself that I haven't done anything for the last six weeks. Yes, I've run a few errands, and I've gone to the grocery store once. Overdoing it? Me?
Dr. M. pointed out a couple of areas of swelling and told me that those were places with fluid in them. He said that for the next six weeks, he wants me off my leg as much as possible and to start wearing the ACE bandage wraps again. He also told me to keep me leg elevated whenever I'm sitting and to use ice frequently throughout the day.
I started to tell him that I had to get back to my old self, but he cut me off. He told Jack that was to make sure that Mama stayed down, and to take care of me. Of course, Jack told the doctor he would handle it. At that moment, I felt rather ganged up on! Then, I told Dr. M. that I just didn't feel like I was getting over this surgery as fast as I should have. I laughed and said it had definitely shown me that I am now almost 50 years old.
Dr. M. smiled and said, "Don't you hate it when you finally figure that out? But you have many other things going on with you, and with your fibromyalgia, it's going to take your body much longer to get over the surgery." As much as I didn't want to hear that, It felt good to have someone acknowledge that the fibro was affecting me as much as it is.
So, here I sit, trying very hard to do less than I've been doing for the last six weeks. Dale and the boys are enforcing the rules, and they are taking very good care of me. I hate asking them to go and get me a drink, when I feel perfectly capable of doing it myself, but I also don't want to mess up the lovely repair job Dr. M. did on my old knee. I'm slowly learning that it is possible to do less than nothing, but it sure isn't easy!
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