Tales of a long-awaited ACL Reconstruction

TW: mention of blood, bones, emesis, hospitalisation (including photos of bandaged limbs - no visible blood), swearing

Medication prescribed:

Codeine 1-2 pills every 4-6 hours as needed

Paracetamol 2 pills 4 times a day

Blood thinners 1 pill once a day

Laxatives 2 pills once a day

Day 0 (May 12th) - The Hospital

7:00    I am on a ward with almost entirely elderly patients. We are in a room together but separated by paper curtains to provide a thinly veiled sense of privacy, but we can all hear each other answering the nurse's questions and speaking with our surgeons. Most of these women are old vets at this: Antoinette's here for her second hip replacement, Cathy has had two partial knee replacements, and here I am trying to keep my cool by stretching my legs out one last time and pacing my paper walls.

8:00    Just overheard one of the ladies tell the nurse that during her last operation she was looked after by a "rotund black lady whose hands I may have broken from all the squeezing". I seriously hope the hospital staff don't lump us all together.

8:30    So far, I've spoken to a nurse who practically giggled when I confessed about my body jewellery that we would have to tape up before I go into theatre. Then the surgeon came in to explain the procedure, gain signed consent, and give me these wicked tattoos to ensure they don't slice up the wrong leg. The physio gave me a crash course in how to walk and take the stairs with the help of crutches. And the anaesthetist discussed possible side effects and complications before I mentioned the cold I'd picked up a few days ago. Lucky me, getting sick right before major surgery.

14:00    A few short hours after waking up, I was taken to have x-rays done to ensure the screws in my bones are settled in properly (what a horrific phrase). Needless to say, the radiologist was not impressed that I'd been sent down with my metal brace still on; we had a great time faffing about with all the clips and straps to get it off and back on again. On the ride back up to my room, Will was leading the way down the corridor and I shouted at my nurse, "faster, Matthew, faster! Let's take him down!" I figure we all need a little silliness on days like this.

16:00    I am drifting in and out of extreme sleepiness. My hands keep reaching for the puzzle book, but I am incapable of finishing a single one due to the brain fog. Will is holding a vigil in his hospital chair while we wait for my discharge pre-requisite: having a wee.

Day 1 - Floods of Tears

After a surprisingly restful night, I've managed to spend the morning cleaning and feeding myself and keeping the cats from waking Will. When a reasonable hour arrived, I devised an ingenious plan to bring my lovely carer a cup of coffee by filling a travel mug only halfway (to avoid potential spillage), placing the lidded mug in a plastic bag, and suspending it from my clenched teeth as I tackled the stairs one step at a time. Sleeping Beauty was rather shocked to see his invalid girlfriend hovering above him with a breakfast delivery swinging from her mouth.

The cat's just delivered an almighty stink bomb in the form of diarrhoea that he subsequently decided not to cover up with litter - and since I can't bend down I am unable to cover it myself - leaving it to diffuse throughout the house like a shit-scented wax burner. He's also popped outside to escape the vile smell of his own bowels.

I have become the cats' favourite human. I sit, I sleep, I am warm, I do not move much. They love me.

I cried for most of today. Partly due to the sheer agony I'm experiencing, and partly because I think I didn't fully process what I was committing to until after the fact. While it's a surgery that I've been pursuing for the better part of two years now, I've also been of two minds about it for the entirety of that journey. I know I have a long road ahead of me; the many hours I will spend doing little movements to regain just a fraction of the mobility I once had, the tiny variations in sitting positions I'll be able to stand for the first few days, the boredom that will eventually overwhelm me once I realise I can't just pop out to the shops for a snack. Aye, it's a long road. But it's also a road I've chosen to take. This time, I am immobilised and in enormous pain because I am healing, not because I am injured. The pain will fade, the scars will lighten, my knee will bend once again, and I will be back to my life in a matter of months.

Day 2 - Generally Unwell

I slept through the night - hurrah! Oddly enough, I dreamt that I was climbing the stairs without the help of crutches on my second day out of hospital. Much to my disappointment, I most certainly do not have the power to accomplish that yet. I woke up to some extreme discomfort in my abdomen only to realise that Will and I had both forgotten about my anti-constipation meds last night ... ah this can only mean one thing. Let me tell you, there's nothing quite like waking up to the full force of your surgical pain accompanied by the uninvited soreness of a hard-working stomach and an equally overworked bowel.

Unfortunately in my current state there is no rushing. Standing up takes a good few minutes to prepare for and sitting down isn't the graceful manoeuvre it once was, more like a controlled fall onto my desired target. A bed is much more preferable for falling onto than a porcelain seat.

I didn't have the strength of body nor mind to make myself breakfast this morning. I just about managed to clean my teeth and take myself to the toilet before falling back into bed. And while I was in immense pain, I didn't want to take any medications without first having something to eat. So instead I waited for my carer to have the rest he deserves. By the time Will was up, I was crying from the pain in my leg, nauseous and worried about the stomach soreness that still hadn't abated. 

After a little nibble and what felt like an army of pills, the leg pain started to ebb away... and was replaced by an extreme dizziness. You know that feeling when you're about to be sick? Your body heats up, you start to hiccup and burb, your mouth fills with saliva and that's when you know it's over. Seconds later, I was hunched over a bowl dribbling like a baby and breathing deeply, trying not to fight it. Lucky me, it was just a solid minute of pre-vomit with no grand finale. The rim of my sick bowl is now imprinted into my wrist; either these blood thinners are fast-acting or I really did clutch that bowl like it was my last lifeline.

Day 3 - Spirits Lifted

6:30    The most painful wee of the day is the first wee of the day. You see, I like to do things in a particular order. My body demands a wee and pain meds first thing. But in order to have the pain meds, I need to have eaten something; before I can eat something, I like to clean my teeth; and I may as well clean my teeth while I'm weeing (anything that achieves two-in-one is precious these days); but before I can do any of that, I need to get out of bed which took about 10 minutes today.

7:00    Either I'm getting really good at being in constant pain, or (surprise, surprise) it's slowly abating from day to day. I managed my own and the cats' breakfasts again today. No coffee up the stairs, though.

12:00    Five hours of napping later, I think I'm finally rested? I was awakened to the most wonderful thing: a bouquet and card from my team at work (my new coworkers are such sweethearts) and a care box from Will's parents. Evidently I'm feeling sensitive as this has sent me into a weeping episode. I can't wait to ask Will to rub this peppermint cream on my toes.

14:00    My left bum cheek has been the real hero of this whole operation. She supports me, she lifts me up, she's solid and unyielding. I spent a whole 20 minutes balanced mostly on my left leg having what we're affectionately calling an "army wash" which consists of a pot of hot water, a cleaning rag, and a lot of patience. I cannot tell you how luxurious it felt to have my back scrubbed down - like Cleopatra soaking in her mythical milk and honey bath. A change of clothes and some deodorant has done much for my dignity.

I've just slapped myself in the stitches sweeping crumbs off the sofa. Fuuuuck me, that hurts.

Day 4 - A Letter to my Doctor

I have accomplished nothing. I am just a slug of a human with a dead leg and numb ass cheek.

Scratch that, I have accomplished this! Or rather WE have accomplished this. This being the Great Deku Tree from Zelda: Breath of the Wild (think Grandmother Willow in Disney's Pocahontas). Guys, his mouth and eyebrows move. The engineers and designers at Lego are ingenious with their creations, and you can tell at least some of them played the game given the care and attention to detail that went into this build.

Dear Doctor Andrews, today I did the full list of exercises you assigned me and here is my honest review. 

• Quad and glute clenches are an excellent warm up to the main event and it actually felt nice to activate those muscles. I'm sure it reminded them of the good old days. 10/10
• Wiggling my knee cap around: first I had to find my knee cap in the very swollen lump that is now my leg joint, but it all went well once I did. 10/10
• Sliding my heel towards my bum to bend my knee: this exercise caused me great pain and distress on Day 1 and I have been dreading it ever since. With the assistance of drugs, however, I give this a 7/10. I am proud of how far I could go today.
• Lying on tummy and bringing my heel to my bum: diabolical. 0/10. Rolling over was a whole ordeal which caused me to laugh so that I didn't cry, and then Will said "your bum jiggles when you laugh", so I asked "does it look good?" which lead to hysterical laughing. Then I tried the exercise and the laughing gave way to full on sobbing. Will thought I was in sudden agony. He took over doing the exercise, manoeuvring my leg for me (because we're more so focusing on regaining mobility than muscular strength) and the sounds I made were so disturbing that he thought he'd done me an injury. It has been hours and my knee is still throbbing with the memory of this one movement. Rolling back over wasn't a fuckin' treat neither.

Day 5 - How to Make Yourself Presentable

Reasons I cried today:

1. Leg pain
2. Will massaged my feet since I can't reach them
3. Leg pain
4. because I love my sister so much

When a friend is in distress and the council of sisters is gathering, one must always answer the call. Thankfully, we gathered around my sick bed this time. About an hour before my friends were due to arrive, Will filled the customary pot with hot water and fetched me a change of clothes while I wiped down. "You want to look cute for the girls?" he asked when I requested a matching set of pink pyjamas. I find it an endearing side to humans that we want to look our best even when we're feeling our worst. Despite having two recently installed screws for my bones to grow around, I insisted on fresh clothes, washing my face, brushing my hair, and even slathering a little scented lotion to drive away the rotten feeling that has been crawling over me this week.

    For the first time since my x-rays, we carefully removed my brace and Will gently scrubbed at my legs with a wet cloth then moisturised the skin (no wonder it had been so itchy!). I thought I was the most pampered woman in the land, but then he peeled off my socks, wiped down my feet, and brought out the peppermint cream his parents sent me. You truly never know what you had until it's gone - I never knew how much I liked being able to touch my own feet. Now that they're unreachable, it's the most euphoric feeling.

Day 6 - Distraction is the Best Medicine

The melatonin and cocodamol have joined forces to bestow upon me some of the strangest dreams I've ever had: way too personal and also way too sexual? I feel like I need a drink but given the amount of drugs I'm on that might actually kill me.

I've restarted Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I can barely stand to read a book or do anything I would count as productive. An activity that requires concentration runs the risk of shifting that concentration to the wrong subject... the various muscles and ligaments and bones that are knitting themselves back together.

I've been told off for going up the stairs again, this time with a backpack stuffed full of clean clothes. My sister caught me on the landing and I explained that I was allowed to do the stairs from day 1, the physio told me as much at the hospital. She angrily whispered back, "Will's on a work call right now so he can't corroborate your story".

Day 7 - One Week-aversary!

Exactly one week after the operation and I've had my first morning wee that wasn't excruciating to execute. This is a major win. I have celebrated by taking only one Cocodamol rather than my usual two. Time to start weening off these.

With Will returning to work yesterday and my sister back to her regular routine, I am left in a sort of limbo ; I still exist within the ecosystem of our household but I have no responsibilities, nothing is expected of me.

Logging onto my work laptop was a bit of a thrill! Sick note, workplace gossip updates, a new face to talk to (my manger on Teams)

Day 8 - The Council Returns

Read in the morning

Zelda reboot has kept me occupied and engaged

Ellie and Sophie back over in the evening

Tote bag has been a godsend and acts as my hands since I can't carry anything, now I look like I'm always on the go

Day 9 - A Walk to Remember

Shit night's sleep

Went upstairs, washed and shaved myself, applied glittery lotion

Sunned myself in garden and watered plants, pottered with one crutch

Walked down the street a little ways and returned by myself (first time outside)

Day 10 -

Journaling and French music in the back garden followed by an introspective conversation with Alexy and topped off with finishing another chapter of ACoEIA. Possibly a little sunburnt.

Parallal play and a little joint to help me sleep. Snacked on some Turkish delight and dark chocolate. Accomplished none of the goals below, but I did other things that I am pleased with.

Goals: 

• US election dummy ballot
• complete exercises
• spend time in garden
• continue Skyrim
• continue I who have never known men

Day 11

Slept until 8am ish then the usual tossing and turning.

Watched Sully in the morning.

Baby bird in the garden was evidently dehydrated or worn out. It flew off on its own after cooling down.

Zelda where we made it to Gerudo!

I walked all the way to the Lockdown Bakehouse where I got Will a pastry and us a couple of coffees and waited for him to return from Waitrose.

David arrived and we picnicked in the back garden.

Sink/bowl wash downstairs and changed into Will's tie-dye shirt.

To be continued...