Surgery is done. Other than a dose of pain meds immediately after the construction effort, I simply do not have pain; certainly nothing on the scale of what I had BEFORE they did the work.
I don’t even know the full scope of what they did – definitely a lot more than was initially planned, I was told, including a biopsy and a cleanout of all kind of damaged cartilage and draining of MUCH fluid. I’m actually kind of glad they hit me when I was in the middle of a flare because the surgeon came in and you could see him swearing under his breath when he saw how swollen my right knee was in comparison to the other. He actually kind of apologized because there were several places where he cut into it, instead of two or three as originally planned. (As if I gave a shit about scars in trade for this level of pain relief? HAH! He can cut a full-scale tic-tac-toe game on there if it does the job!) He asked if I’d been tested for rheumatoid arthritis given the extremes it displayed and that I have other joint pain – when I said I had, and the test results were negative, that’s what prompted the biopsy. I gathered it’s not a suspicion of cancer, but potentially some other chronic stuff.
I got almost no sleep last night so came home and promptly crashed for a few hours. On waking I discovered that for the first time in months and months – maybe years – I simply wasn’t hurting. It had been that way for so long I truly didn’t remember what it was like to not be in pain.
Also probably won’t need crutches. Doc said the knee should bear full weight, just take it really easy for a few days. And it is true – I walked into the house sans crutches, without any problems. Slowly, granted, but with less agony than I had when I left the house this morning. I have prescriptions for percoset – which I suspect I won’t use at all, though I filled the prescription – and for high powered Ibuprofin, which I’m required to take to subdue the rampant inflammation. The leg is also encased in a humongous brace that stretches from mid-thigh to ankle.
I have to take a rain check on the happy dance – but not for long at this rate!
About the child unit moving in – not her choice, as it turned out. Her darling boyfriend bonded with big sis’s boyfriend. House belonged to big sis’s boyfriend so rather than holding the asshole element accountable, house owner kicked out my daughter and the baby. (The scenario was confirmed by my older daughter, by the way.) Younger daughter tried to find other places to live before even calling me. G and I had discussed long ago that if it ever came to brass tacks daughter and grandbaby would never be living on the streets, so this was the only possible solution. We did, however, have the discussion about her staying put. I would be lying if I said anyone was overjoyed at the prospect (including daughter), but at least we’ve made peace with it. Bonus points because daughter will be rescuing us from two weeks of G’s cooking. I know he could have managed, and no doubt I could have contributed to the effort, but it’s a heck of a lot simpler if daughter does the cooking.
She will also contribute in other ways. We’ll make it work. G and I had discussed and knew it would happen this way sooner or later. We were just hoping to hold off until we could get into a place with more space, and definitely NOT the night before I was slated for the hospital! But as is always true – everything happens for a reason. Having the surgery done is a huge relief in more ways than one, and the kid’s doing what she can. She’s making arrangements to get a bed. G isn’t thrilled at the prospect of giving up his office but he’ll get over it.
One change on the horizon. Younger son MUST get his own place. He makes more money than I do AND just got a $15K per year promotion. He isn’t paying us rent and for all intents and purposes he’s locked us out of using our own living room. He owns his own fucking 4 bedroom house, for heaven’s sake. He opted to rent it out – that’s his decision and shouldn’t prevent him from finding another place of his own. I love the kid but the “just a couple of months” here has already stretched into four months. Time to light that fire under him.