I went from epidural to an IV drip of morphine, then to something called Oxycotet, each time expecting pain, but there was very little. The hospital stay was uneventful, although I didn’t sleep well because I had a room mate who was in pain each night and kept the nurses hopping. Finally, on Saturday, I could leave. I had been walking around with a walker, and getting up at night to use the toilet, so it seemed that I’d be able to handle things at home. I could also give myself an anti-coagulating needle in the fat of my stomach–something I had feared, but which turned out to be very easy and painless (perhaps because I have so much fat on my stomach.)
Sunday was great. I awoke with great energy and cheer. I walked around with only a cane, had no problems going up and down stairs, was able to bend my knee quite far, and all in all, felt very proud of myself. I got up for breakfast and dinner, sat out on the back balcony to enjoy the green of the garden, and excitedly told Paze and Jeff how great I felt. I watched tv until 11, then had a good night’s sleep.
On Monday, I awoke to find that my wound was bleeding quite vigorously, the blood having gone through the bandages they’d sent me home with. John had to leave for work, but he piled paper toweling on my wound and strapped it down with Scotch tape, just until the nurse came from the nearby clinic to change the bandages officially.
The nurse turned out to be a very young-seeming Haitian woman who had never dealt with this kind of surgery before, and had no idea what to do about my bleeding wound. She gave me new bandages, but not much, saying that the wound should be left to the air. I told her it would bleed some more, but she didn’t seem worried.
Martin, the physiotherapist, a handsome young man of the Gregory Peck type, is very nice and competent. He brought along a student p.t. who was rather inept, and they showed me exercises to do–along the line of rotating my toes left, then right, ten times, then lifting my foot, then tightening my butt, etc. They also measured my leg and ankle for swelling. All in all, they were here about 4 hours, and when they left, I was surprisingly weary. They also phoned to insist that the nurse return and rebandage my leg, since the bandages were already soaked with blood.
The general theory was that the anti-coagulants I’m shooting myself up with are, not surprisingly, keeping my blood from clotting properly, hence the bleeding. I was told to keep my knee raised all the time to discourage bleeding, and wait to hear from my doc on whether or not the dosage should be changed to allow my blood to thicken properly. (The problem is that my blood might clot elsewhere in my body, causing phlebitis, hence the need for the shots.)
Sitting watching tv Monday night, I found the blood drenching my bandages again. John and I had to pile the contents of a box of Kleenex onto the spot, with more scotch tape to hold it down. I was exhausted by the time we finished, and felt so down that I asked if J. could stay home Tues: I could imagine myself bleeding like a stuck pig, as they say, uncontrollably before the phys. t. came at 11, and felt inadequate to the task of keeping it bandaged.
On Tuesday, I woke up feeling exhausted and discouraged. I couldn’t really walk around much because of the bleeding problem, and walking is the only thing which eventually makes the leg/ knee/ foot loosen up and hurt less. Pain was still not too bad; cramping was more descriptive of what I felt. It was like a charleyhorse, really. Sitting with my knee elevated, to discourage bleeding, makes the foot go numb and the knee go stiff.
I felt without energy, and when Paze phoned to ask if she could come over to visit me this p.m after her class, I told her no, I would be poor company, was too tired, etc. I just feel like sleeping, actually, but I knew I should be doing my exercises and moving around. I don’t know why this setback about the bleeding discouraged me so much, really, but it had.
In the afternoon, we went to see my doc in his office re the bleeding. He said he didn’t like the look of the knee, and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. He said he didn’t think the blood-thinners were the cause of the bleeding. Rather, he thought we just might have to go back to the hospital and drain the knee, as there seems to be a lot of liquid as well as blood seeping out. I’m too go back to see him on Thursday; he’ll decide then what to do.
Otherwise, I’m doing very well, for which I’m very glad. I’m able to bend my knee very well, almost as well as I could before the operation. I can also stretch my leg out straight without any trouble. And the pain isn’t much, just a low throbbing. If the bleeding were to stop, I’d be quite happy. Today, Wednesday, I feel more cheery for some reason, although still am tired. According to my doc, this is all quite normal; the bod runs on adrenaline while at the hospital, then relaxes when you come home, so there’s bound to be a feeling of let-down or anti-climax.
In any case, I think I’ve been very fortunate. All my fears have proved groundless—well, certainly most of them: infection is still a possibility.
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