The Traitorous Knee – Part III

Well, here I am in the eleventh week of recuperating from a total knee replacement and upon reflection, what I have to say is this. All the fellow tennis players I know who have gone through the procedure and told me they “wished they’d done it sooner”? They were either suffering from memory loss or were lying to me completely. To put it bluntly, the last eleven weeks have been a bitch. No one said that in the first month, trying to find a comfortable position in bed so you could sleep a wink at night would be next to impossible. No one ever mentioned that sitting on a toilet seat, bending forward, trying to wipe your butt would be a challenge. Go up and down the stairs? How about in slow motion, grasping the handrail. We won’t even talk about the fatigue, lack of appetite and ongoing discomfort that is only now starting to ebb. Discomfort. Is that right word ? The doctor’s office sends you questionnaires. On a scale of one to ten where are you on the pain meter? You mean ten minutes ago, right now or an hour from now? Why don’t we just write down every number because there’s a good chance you’ll hit each one at some point during the day. The physical therapist has suggested that riding a stationary bike is good exercise therapy. I’m sure it would be if my knee would allow a full rotation of the bike pedals. It won’t. It just about gets full circle and then it’s like someone sticks an ice pick into the side of my leg. It’s nerve pain, I’ve been told. Well, it has a lot of nerve. And speaking of physical therapy, isn’t it supposed to make the injured appendage feel better? It doesn’t. “If you can’t bend your knee any further than that, let’s see if I can.” Gahhhh! And please, tell me why it is that in week eleven I can’t get my leg comfortable when driving the car or sitting at my writing desk. Did they replace the old, arthritic knee joint with bricks?

Okay, I’m being a baby. As usual, I’m complaining about something that isn’t worth complaining about so I won’t lose my mind focusing on things that are. The truth is I’m walking well. I’ve gotten on the tennis court several times to play stationary statue tennis. I played nine holes of golf with my son last week. Is there still the ongoing wince and stutter and groan? Yes. But a knee replacement wasn’t an age replacement. At 71, aches and pains come with the territory. And if I remember right, I moved like a crippled hedgehog when I was in my forties and fifties and sixties, bad knees had nothing to do with it.

So. Perhaps down the road I’ll be like those other tennis friends who can say with a straight face, “I wish I’d done it sooner”. The surgeon seemed to think so. At a recent checkup, he said – casually and totally out of nowhere – that knee replacement is the “male equivalent of childbirth”. A year out, and you’ve forgotten all about the pain and you’re ready to do it again.

I’m not sure if I believed him. And unlike a woman giving birth to a beautiful child, I’m not sure the cost is worth it.