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"The bad
news is that I'm wearing out. The good news is that there are
replacement parts." That's how I told my family and friends
that the knee I thought would recover from an arthroscopic surgery
was never getting better. The new surgeon that I'd consulted, after
months of pain and agony that left me almost lame, told me I had
only one option - when to schedule knee-replacement surgery.
The news was a little daunting for a 50-something who usually moves
around at the speed of light and leads a very active life. It didn't
help to learn that this kind of surgery is becoming commonplace for
my generation. Or that tens of thousands of the generation before
mine have already had the surgery. No, it didn't help. I was scared
and depressed and felt incredibly old and feeble.
That's when my friend Richie helped put it in perspective for me:
"Anyone who has led as many conga lines and danced on as many tables
as you have deserves a new knee."
I clung to that joke and decided that anything was better than not
being able to get around - or shop! So, with Dr. David Ott - a
highly recommended and tested surgeon who was recognized last month
in this magazine as a "Top Doctor" - I bravely went "under the
knife." And that began my very interesting journey into
Arizona's healthcare system.
Morphine is my drug of choice.
It can erase the most horrendous of pain. It makes you happy when
you should be screaming in agony. And it lets you sleep when your
entire body is traumatized. I really feel sorry for those who
can't tolerate the drug or are afraid of it. I loved my
intravenous morphine drip, and the button I could push whenever I
wanted more. I realize that some people think it's brave or noble to
experience pain, and they're always preaching restraint to avoid
getting "hooked." I think those folks are misguided. I know
how brutal the surgery was on my knee, and there was absolutely no
way that I was going to skimp on morphine. As a result, my first
three days at Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix were very, very
happy.
Millie Bann helped. She was the first RN I saw as I came up from
surgery. I immediately got the sense that I was in competent and
skilled hands. Carla Milam helped, too. She's a nurse's assistant
who went out of her way to make me feel safe and secure. Victoria
Russell and Janet Siglow epitomized what good nurses should be.
And when it came to the dreaded physical therapists - the ones who
get you out of bed right away and demand that you do impossible
things like walk - well, I could not have asked for any better than
Amber Zimmer, Alice Nichols, Judy Johnson and Chris Leal. In
addition to all them, caseworker Nancy Barnett went out of her way
to make sure I was on the road to recovery.
Of course, each one of them was well trained, and knew how to
perform their jobs, but patients really don't care much about that.
What patients care about is something that can't be taught in school
- "bedside manner." We're so scared, and we're fighting such awful
pain, that what we need at that moment is someone who makes us feel
safe. The women and men who can do that are ideal, those who can't
should look for another profession.
I took a little notebook with me to the hospital and made this note
on the fifth page: "Good Sam can brag about a lot of things, but
certainly not about its food." Thankfully, the morphine and the
other pain medications took away my appetite, so I didn't care that
most of the food delivered to my room was a little bland. But
there's no need for this, and I would hope that Good Sam would take
a long, hard look at its kitchen.
A couple pages later in my notebook was a list of "patient
improvements" that I hope will provide guidance to hospitals
throughout Arizona:
-
Provide a way for patients to get a daily
newspaper. There used to be "candy stripers" who did nice things for
patients, but, unfortunately, they've disappeared. Nurses and aides
are too busy for the little stuff, but it's important for patients
to stay as connected as possible with the "normal" things in life.
-
Hospitals need better television. Somebody at
Good Sam thought people confined to their beds after surgery would
want to see medical shows - some devoted to the "inside story" of
horrible diseases and injuries. Yuck! Don't hospitals know about
cable television? You'd think that they'd have caught on to "pay per
view" by now.
-
Please know that sometimes the simplest of
things can cause a lot of problems. For example, a friend was in
another hospital around the time of my surgery when the tape over
his incision was ripped off, leaving him with torn skin that was
more painful than his surgery.
-
I really appreciated the class I attended at
Good Samaritan before my surgery, where nurses filled us in on
exactly what would happen and what to expect. I'm told that not all
hospitals do this. They should.
I also noted a few things that doctors should tell their patients
before surgery:
- I knew enough to start isometric exercises on both legs two months
before my surgery, but no one ever mentioned how important my arms
would be. You have little but your arms to help you the first days
after surgery, and I was horrified to learn that mine were so weak.
Doctors should insist that patients start working on their
upper-body strength the minute they know they need surgery.
- No one bothered to mention that between the anesthesia, morphine
and pain pills, your brain gets addled. So, it comes as a real
shocker that you have no interest in reading books, can't do a
crossword puzzle, and have to read newspaper stories again and again
just to understand what they mean. (This temporary impairment is one
of the reasons they don't want you driving for at least a month
after surgery.) I'd taken a pile of books to the hospital, which
collected dust. Not only that, I'd intended to write a children's
book during my recovery. Ha. Doctors should inform people about the
side effects so they don't freak out.
- Patients should be told that they're going to have no energy for
at least a month - every ounce of energy is put into healing.
Doctors could relieve a lot of anxiety if they just shared this
information. The good news, however, is that you're going to come
out of this experience with a new view on life. When you have to
deal with something as basic as going to the bathroom, it does
something to your sense of what's important in the world. I think
this is a good thing.
I remember recoiling the first time Dr. Ott suggested I go to a
rehab facility after the hospital - all I could envision was a
nursing home, and I knew I wanted nothing to do with that. I had
intended to stay with friends, but Dr. Ott assured me that a rehab
facility would give me the intensive therapy I'd need to recover.
And, make no mistake about it - rehabilitation is the name of the
game in knee surgery. You can have a Top Doc like Dr. Ott, but if
you don't do the rehab work, you're not going to get your knee back.
For rehab, I went to HealthSouth at 96th Street and Shea in
Scottsdale, part of the nation's largest rehabilitation network, and
I couldn't have asked for better care.
HealthSouth schedules three hours of therapy a day, but I managed to
get four hours, including a therapy pool that was absolute heaven.
The staff is young and wonderful - they pushed but didn't shove -
and I made incredible progress in the three days I spent there. Most
patients stay a week to 10 days, but I worked extra hard so I could
get home, where I enjoyed one of the most joyful weekends of my
life.
My pals at the Phoenix Firefighters Association - from President
Billy Shields to member's services director David Fisher - were like
big brothers, anticipating what I'd need to recover. They loaned me
a hospital bed for my living room, along with a "lift chair," plus,
their frequent visits and cheerleading really helped.
In addition, my friend Mary Perret came from San Diego to spend a
week with me. And longtime friends went out of their way to care for
me, including Marge Injasoulian, Nan and Dave Robb, Athia Hardt,
Marge Rice, Cathy Eden, Kenn Smith, Tommy Martinez, Mary Ellen
Brown, Marcia Craven, Sally Joseph, Jay Goodfarb, Gail Adams, Linda
Weaver and Jim Ballinger. With my friends gathered around me -
drinking wine, watching movies, catching up on the news, filling me
in on the latest shenanigans at the Legislature - I lay on my
hospital bed with my leg in a "Continuous Passive Motion" machine
that had been my constant companion since surgery. (Here's a hint:
If your surgeon does not believe in CPM machines, run, don't walk,
out of that office and find a new surgeon. These machines shouldn't
be an option when it comes to your recovery.)
I know some people have had horrible experiences with this surgery,
and their recovery has been awful, but that's the opposite of what
happened to me. One reason is this: I embraced the realization that
I'd have a good knee again, and whatever pain or discomfort it took
to get me there was worth the price. So, I stayed cheery and
optimistic the whole time.
The next Monday, I started outpatient therapy at Arizona Sports &
Physical Therapy at Palm Lane and Central. It's so close to my house
that if I were able to walk, I could have walked there. But I
couldn't walk.
I couldn't drive, either, so my friends took me to therapy three
days a week for a month. Some patients choose home therapy instead
of outpatient therapy, but I was glad I chose the latter - I felt I
got more of a workout, and besides, it got me out of the house so I
didn't go stir crazy.
In fact, I loved going to therapy - Gary Derscheid and Andrea Dunn
were wonderful in getting me back on my feet. At first, we spent an
hour each day doing stretches and bends. But after two weeks, we
added another hour of pool therapy each day.
The day I could abandon the walker was a real red-letter day. After
that, I used a cane for a couple weeks. Eventually, I was strong
enough to walk on my own - with a brand-new knee that doesn't hurt
anymore.
It's an amazing thing what great doctors, nurses, therapists and
friends can do. They can give you back your life.
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