A site of satirical musings, commentary and/or rhetorical criticism of the world at large.

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Location: Southeastern, Pennsylvania, United States

Sunday, February 10, 2019

The Sunday Morning Post (V.1; #3) - Complications

Recap:  I fell in my driveway during a wintry mix storm a week ago Tuesday.  I came down hard on my left knee.  That and the calf have alternated between throbbing and aching ever since.

Last Monday, the pain was too intense for me to go to work.  I had planned to leave early for a doctor’s appointment that afternoon, so the day was not going to be 100% productive anyway.

I called the orthopedic surgeon to see if I could move up my pre-scheduled follow up to my hip surgery on Thursday.  At the time of my call, I was icing my knee, elevated in my reclining chair with the faithful Nyla curled up between my legs.  Go ahead, picture that scene in your mind, if you dare!

Joy! The scheduler advised that the physician’s assistant could see me that morning in an hour.  I lingered on my chair until it was time for me to dress, and, with apologies to Nyla for interrupting her morning nap, I got up and went to my appointment.

Going in, I had visions that I had fractured my kneecap or some other adjacent bone which would require surgery.  The x-rays brought good news: nothing was broken or fractured, and no ligaments were torn.  Just a contusion which caused certain areas on my knee to break out in purple bruises and my calf to swell up to the size of a grand piano leg.

The physician’s assistant to the surgeon advised that I should rest, ice the area, elevate the leg as much as possible, and wrote a prescription for physical therapy. A short walk to the physical therapist – their office is in front of the orthopedic surgeon’s office — where I was able to make an appointment to evaluate my situation.  From there I went home to rest until my afternoon appointment.

My physical therapy evaluation on Friday was like a reunion with old friends who had helped me through my hip issues last summer.  My therapist, a nice young fellow by the name of Jason, explained that there is not much they could do in therapy except have me come back to evaluate my range of motion progress and gave me a few exercises which I could do at home. My knee just needs time to heal. He also explained that the swelling around my knee cap, which feels like I have suddenly acquired an extra layer of padding, was my body’s way of healing the trauma.

Then he moved on to an explanation about the possible complications from the swelling in the calf.  The physician’s assistant only mentioned that she did want to see the blood pool in my leg.  Jason brought up the subject of a more sinister nature:  a clot could form in my calf, travel up to the lung and cause a pulmonary embolism.

Embolisms…um…aren’t they usually…um…fatal?

Oh, eff it all!

He suggested wearing a compression stocking, which fortunately I still have from my hip surgery recovery, 6-8 hours a day. (I am wearing it now as I write this.) I will see him twice for follow-up before my follow up with physician’s assistant in three weeks.  In the meantime, I will rest as much as possible and try not to challenge the laws of gravity again.
Ha!  Easier said than done! 

(Thank you for reading.  To paraphrase Basil Rathbone at the end of 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', “Quick, Watson, the ice!”)


Blogger Debra She Who Seeks said...

It sounds like such a nasty and painful injury. Good to know nothing is broken though. I hope it heals soon with rest and ice.

February 10, 2019 at 11:54 AM  
Blogger Ur-spo said...

ouch ouch and more ouch
No PE ! they are bad on the complexion.

February 10, 2019 at 10:04 PM  
Blogger Raybeard said...

OMG X 10! Could it be any worse? Well, I suppose it could but that's hardly any consolation in your present condition. Damn the prayers though all our positive thoughts most certainly are with you. Meanwhile, I'll eschew saying "Take it easy!" to avoid riling you further, and wish you every last piece of good fortune for an ultra-speedy repair.

February 11, 2019 at 2:19 AM  
Blogger todd gunther said...

Thank you, Debra. I am healing.

Thank you, Spo. Oh, the pain and ouch indeed.

Thank you Raybeard. No, good wishes to "take it easy" would not rile me,. It may rate an ironic chuckle, but thank you for the thought behind it.

February 12, 2019 at 6:49 AM  

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