To Heal or Not to heal, is that the question?

Ode to my Knee:

Oh the times we’ve had running on the football field, from cops, asian gangs and that agro homosexual mob dressed in leather chaps in S.F., How the masses screamed when we did the James Brown inspired splits on the dance floor, jumping over fences out of moving vehicles, trains & planes, swimming w/ Tiger Sharks & Great Whites, and all those round houses you missed saved me from serious jail time,when I face planted you were ALWAYS there to pick me up, damn man the crazy places we’ve been together and the places you got me out of. I owe alot to you my dear freind but look forward to the new Titanium model.

I’ll have to admit that there is nothing quite as humbling as becoming a Convalescent.

Wikepidea defines Convalescence as: Gradual recovery of health and strength after illness or injury.

I always thought it was a term in life when a person was old & abandoned as in Convalescent Home. In any case it proves that in a time of being patient and trusting of others, will most likely result in a faceplant or at least some trying times ahead. If your used to doing things yourself, forget about it, sit back, relax & and in my opinion enjoy the ride with a variety of painkillers and alcohol.

In preparation for surgery I filled out all the proper paperwork on who would be my voice if Im half dead and that would of course be my eldest sister. I left her my comic book collection, 1970’s marijuana pip collection and a shitload of writings to be sold as a collection someday. My brother-in-law after finding out I would be healing up at his house has vollunteered to “pull the plug” if neccasary. I also went on record as being a donar, but only my testicles. I had previously and ingeniously set up my sisters spare room to be totally operational w/ the aid of a crutch such as turning on & off lights, t.v. pencil sharpener, fan, phone, blender, etc. since I knew I would be home alone most the day. I also bought about $300 of frozen t.v. dinners, hot pockets, burritoes, corn dogs and the like.

It’s been 10 days since I got a total knee replacement and finally coherant enough to write since I’ve been on a variety of Meds, over & under the counter. I know my tolerance levels and have a very low one when coming to pain, so I maintain a comforatable level to assist me in my time of convalescing. SO, what happened you ask to get me in the hospital in the first place? Regardless of wether it was a football injury, stage diving accident, climbing accident, dance move gone arry or possibly a inccident when the roller skating craze was happening, the fact remains that it has been some  25+ years that has passed and it has never healed properally probally due to lack of adequet health care in the first place, degenerative bone disease set in and pretty much has been a bitch to live with since. I dont care who you are or what you do but heed my warnings when I say take care of your body. Time Conquers All.

 So I prepared myself for surgery by going to the local bar for a protein laced cheesebuger, a few IPA’s and a shot or two. Then thats when she walked in and sat across from me laughing at my jokes and next thing I know were out on the deck getting to know one another. She said she’s a EMT and grew up around here and wanted to go swimming I suggested we go to my sisters and hot tub instead. So my sister is on the porch when she see’s us coming down the driveway and I introduce whats her name to her. She goes on to tell my sister that Im going to write a poem for her, My sister barks

” Oh Brother! I’m going to bed & clean the hot tub!!”

leaveing us to ourselves. We have a few glasses of wine and she changes into a bikini which is made out of something resembling pantyhose. She is gorgeous and has this amazing body especially considering she’s older than me, no really I havent been with a gal older than me since I was 17, (Im turning a milestone here) which soon leads into the hot tub where she stresses the importance of human touch. Life is such a trip. She sais she will come visit me when Im at the hospital and bring me a suprise which Im hoping will be some cardio work in my room at 4:20 am….

 Dreaming never hurts to try, cuz once you quit dreaming boy,…it’s time to die- Blind Melon

August 21 2012 6:00 am.

I walk into the hospital with a slight hangover and a fear that my blood is as thin as that EMT gal’s bathing suit the night before. I got the shits to boot, I am getting nervous and am sweating 101 proof. “Oh God, I forgot to shave and write EXIT ONLY above my pubic region” I’m really concerned about this since the memories of that jellybean incident back in 87′ have me all rattled ( no pun intended). I thought aloud drawing a curious glance from the decrepet looking nurse. I feel the urgent need to evacuate my bowels before this all goes down and go to the bathroom for the 3rd time, the walls start to breath like that Pink Floyd movie and just when Im about to dive out the window and make a run for it,  some lady calls my name. I pick up my crutches like a first time skier and drag a walker my sister loaned to me since she’s been through this before and to her is no big deal, besides all she would tell me is to

“quit worrying like a little bitch”.

 I look back to her for solice where there is only a empty room, she by all accounts is going to get a bottle or two of cabernet and hitting the hot tub since Im not around for a few days, oh shit…. I forgot to clean it last night after the EMT gal, I guess she’ll ban me………. again..

Well they led me into my room, a small room with high tech shit ozzing out of it and that God awful medical smell that makes me want to hurl already. They sit me down and hand me one of those awesome assless smocks with dinosaur patterns. I hold it up like a kids first jock strap, not sure excactly how it works. Some anesthesiologist starts asking me questions about this and that and blah blah blah as a nurse hooks something into my vein which she sais is really large, we spoke of my large vein until,…. well I dont really remember going to sleep but I sure as hell remember waking up with a shit load of tubes hanging out of me at every imaginable angle, I felt sick and then squeezed something in my hand and smiled drifting off to a place I thought I knew.

Sneaky little buggers took me down without a fight.

The first few days are a blur of sensations, the things you once depended on are devioid and new found abilities present themselves. Like the ability of pissing on ones back with no sensation of the fact your doing it at all. I know its happening due to the fact that they kept changing this bag that kept filling with urine that came from a tube coming from somewhere I really didnt want to think about. There was also a pretty good size  hose that was coming from up above my left thigh & somewhere south of my belly button I also did not really care know the origin of. It had this dark reddish coagulated goo that I only looked at once then put out of my mind until now. There were some cool looking devices that rolled around me with a variety of bags that had to be enclosed in these lockable otter like boxes so no one would heist them while I was sleeping. It just so happened that my RN was my sisters best freind growing up and the CNA was my nieces mother-in-law so between those two I was takien care of. One of them first showed me that cool button thing that releases a small amount of a powerful narcotic which I would come to use as much as possible, the other reminded me of breathing excercises that were much like inhaling a bong. They took care of all my needs which was lying there on my part in a dillerium of joyous splendor to excruciating depths and everywhere in between. My only solice at this time was this gorgeous long blonde haired blue eyed big titty’d cleaning girl, in my delusional state was wearing a real naughty candy striper uniform, I know she was most likely over 75 years old but I love the way my mind plays tricks with me and do my best Ricko Suave’ to woo her but I think from the smell Im omitting she’s not going for it. I dont like getting my vitals taken every so often as well as what little blood I may have left they keep taking.

 Its sort of irritating as I would rather much sleep, Oh’ SLEEP how I LOVE THEE. No Pain, angnst or worries just blackness and nothing, God I love this realm. I would have to admit though that my hospital stay for the most part went off without a hitch. I was a bit concerned as this is probally the first time I’ve ever gone to surgery beides dental for why? you may ask hmmm?

 #1 reason of concern was the facilty I was scheduled to go to had a history of MRSA –

Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA) is a bacterium responsible for several difficult-to-treat infections in humans. It is also called multidrug-resistant Staphylococcus aureus and oxacillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (ORSA). MRSA is any strain of Staphylococcus aureus that has developed resistance to beta-lactam antibiotics, which include the penicillins (methicillindicloxacillinnafcillinoxacillin, etc.) and the cephalosporins. Strains unable to resist these antibiotics are classified as methicillin-sensitive Staphylococcus aureus, or MSSA. The development of such resistance does not cause the organism to be more intrinsically virulent than strains of Staphylococcus aureus that have no antibiotic resistance, but resistance does make MRSA infection more difficult to treat with standard types of antibiotics and thus more dangerous.

MRSA is especially troublesome in hospitals, prisons, schools, and nursing homes, where patients with open wounds, invasive devices, and weakened immune systems are at greater risk of infection than the general public

#2 reason: I am in Lake County the epicentre of bacterial life.

Drug management 101.

When first coming out of being knocked out for any period of time, one tries to communicate with glutoral sounds and hand gestures only a infant or primate could remotely understand. It feels really good for aprx. 10 minutes of being in that place in between dream and reality, that is until your nerves finally wake up at the incision and what follows consist of muscle spasm and waves of pain they like to catergorize in a sort of scale. 0 being no pain and 10 being worst pain imaginable. When the nurse asked me if I could tell her where I was at that moment on the pain level my first reaction was to grab her by her left tit and wrench it as hard as I could while I hit her over the head repeatedly with my bedpan but all I could do was squeeze that button again, wimper and dribble a few more drops into that damn bag. Now Im trying to be conservative in the numbers I relay to the nurse in eyelid batting fluctuations as Im trying to think of the differant pain and the levels associated with it. Like for instance getting a hot wire shoved in my eye  would probally be a 8 or a drill bit through my femur bone  could be a 9 so I start out low balling w/ 5 & 6. A word of wisdom for you people out there, ALWAYS say 10!!! I dont care if you feel nothing at all thats right even when it dont hurt because it will save you alot of pain and discomfort as they dial down the meds AND you will know it as soon as it happens and will be begging for more dope. Im just trying to save you some trouble. I dont care how Manly you think you are. Speaking of Manly, I wrote this on FB soon afterwards when I was able:

OMFG!! I was more concerned about the cathader in my dick  than the “hacking off of bone” as the epideral in my spine and push button dilodin was awesome, but sucked when I tried to pick up on some cleaning lady and damn near fell out on the floor with all kinds of tubes in me, my nurses were great especially when they took the cathader out  with grace and so smoothly… all I could do was breath out and once again wimper, unlike like starting of a lawn mower I envisioned, I kept saying hell mary’s thru out it, Im not Catholic. The Nurse name might have been Mary, I dont really remember. The food sucked. NO ONE BROUGHT ME ANY GANJA FOOD, FUCK OFF ASSHOLES!! OK there was no need for that but this button doesnt seem to be working anymore and Im getting a little irritable. Made me feel better though when the in home nurse told me ” They almost cut off your leg, it should hurt.” those were comforting words. As I dry heaved, she went on to scold me about eating way to many pain pills and chasing them w/ bacardi. I didnt have the heart to tell her about how many differant drugs I was on besides the ones perscribed as I baked over 5 pounds of ganja treats and could barely articulate words. Leg cramps, back spasm and almost pissing on myself daily makes me laugh/cry besides it all, I got one of those old people walkers, polka dotted crutches & a Kamode like a high rise shitter thats fun since my dick is in full on retreat mode like erkle the turtle since over 1/2 of its length was shoved full of tube/hose and apparantly is suffering from PTS so I can only piss somewhere between the upper lid and lower toilet thus all over my smock, I dont think it even cleared my nut sack. The cleaning gal appreciated that Im sure. . They say excerciscing is more mental than physical, try telling that to my leg who refuses to do anything but fucking hurt, I can hear my sister already saying in a loving voice ” Quit being such a pussy, I had three of those done and had two kids and two shoulder operations, bla bla bla……. Oh yeah nothing but love here besides that and thinking of ripping staples out while sleeping is my worst fear, well that and the physical therapist. I cant wait to get the other one done.

I guess the first three days I slept but that all came to an abrupt halt when the physical the-rapist came in looking like a hippy caught in a time warp, loose muppet like hair bouncing with every giddy step and cracking these stupid ass jokes and whistling dixie. I guess you cant blame the guy for trying to bring joy into a otherwise dismal job, I believe he was an Spanish Inquistioner in a past life and is trying to make up for past woes. I also think he introduced himself by tapping on my cathader tube in which my eyes roll into the back of my skull where I can read out in bright red “Kill this mother fucker” so as my eyes roll back and come into focus and Im about to go into “KILL MODE”, the next thing I know he’s dragging my leg across the bed like a frigon gaffed salmon and sitting me up like a half inflated blow up doll, due to the epideral hose in my spine Im flopping around and all I can do to defend myself is lick and gnaw my lips in trying to bite his juggler vein. I sound like Young Frankenstein and perhaps made my first coherable sentence structure “Git ohff me!!” I spat. But no he’s just having his way with me like Johnny Holmes he’s bending my legs in in unimaginable porn like positions, it was grand Ill tell ya, before I could even experience the first wave of pain associated with his sadistic practice he laid me back down into the bed and hooked up this god awful machine that makes your leg moves wether you want to or not and put s the blankets on so tight I thought I would die of asyphyxsiation but thanked him anyhow for not violating me any further. He didnt even care and was skipping on down the tulips or hallway to next poor unsuspecting victim. I contemplated making a police report but am to traumatised to do so any time soon.

 Besides when they first took of the huge dressing wrapped around my leg and I seen the  HIDEOUS staples across my knee, I hit that button until It  damn near broke and I passed the FUCK out.

The nurses are my salvation and have been giving me all kinds of pills for God only knows what one of them being a stool softener since all the opiates their pumping into me is bound to constipate me up which is great since I came in with the Jaegermeister shits anyhow. They told me I wouldnt be allowed to leave until I had a bowel movement so I concentrated on making that a possibility. What would happen over the course of the next few days was trying to pass something apparantly with the density of a meteorite and girth of a hand grenade. I used everyhting at my disposal such as praying, relaxation techniques, belly rubs, chanting, leaning on one cheek to the other as my good leg is jamming up & down like a fucking sewing machine, Im sweating my ass off, simply grateful of the La’mas Breathing techniques I learned from my sister which seem to be coming in useful as well.  In the end after seemingly 14 hours of Man-labor I pass something resembling a small cat turd. I can only wimper and dont even notice I finally cleared my nut sack pissing, yeah once again all over my smock which is now a cute pastel floral print. Considering all the work I put into it I’m a little bummed about the results but hey thats all they wanted so thats all their going to get. HOMEBOUND!! God KNOWS I love drugs but I  just want to go somewhere alone and eat about 5 pounds of ganja cookies.

9-11-12

I got my staples out & Its been 21 days which they say is the worst of it but Physical Therapy started way to late & I have to bust through some scar tissue….. practicing Samba moves in my mind. This morning someone called really early waking me abruptly out of LALA LAND and I kneed myself w/ my bad leg,… that was nice. I woke up screaming fuck, FUck, FUCK!!! My sister  was like ” What?””  I simply  handed her the whole phone unit reciever, jack, portal and all that was on my nightstand, ate some Percosets backed with three Tylenols, two Aleve Migrain gel caps ( which I find hit the system faster) and lay back reciteing something borderline ritualistic and cant go back to sleep, oh dear what to do but write.

9/20/12

Its been 4 weeks and Im 2 weeks into physical therapy, got my knee bending to 90 degrees and walking. Its funny when I think of when people say that a person vehicle is an extension of their personality considering that my truck is also in the shop being torn apart and rebuilt. One thing keeps me going at this point in time and thats thinking of where Im going next. Most likely back to the Islands throughout winter since I dont seem to want to be in anything resembling winter this year, then possibly over into Malyasia and Japan next Spring. I guess I had better request my 3rd passport. I just want to say thankyou to those who have wished me well through this time, I’m healing well and look forward to being mobile!

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