K-2

K = knee, -2 = days relative to surgery.  In case you didn’t get that.  It starts before the knife.  I could have started writing last March but here we are.  

Because this has been a “hurry up offense,” I had to get a couple things in order today.  On the way to pick up pre-surgery scrub soap, stopped at physical therapy to see if they had my order and to schedule some appointments.  I walked in and the receptionist immediately recognized me.  A flood of emotions washed over me.  It all came back; the work, the pain, the frustration, discouragement and slow pace of progress.  I remember being about 5 days post-surgery when I couldn’t get ahead of the pain; one of the most miserable days of my life.  I began to recall my mental state that went along with the first recovery.  It was no joke.  I realized today that I was in for months of suck once again.  But, here we are. 

While this might be tough for me as the patient, it is easy to overlook the impact on my care provider, my partner.  First, I’m not a great patient.  First responders can be difficult as we know what the care “should look like” and if our partner does it different, it causes us angst.  I am working hard to pay close attention to how I respond to the support I receive.  Second, they don’t like seeing us struggle or in pain.  This is also something I am watching so I can facilitate a break when she needs one.  

On the other side of the coin, or other knee, it’s feeling quite a bit better today.  I am looking forward to the PT being good for both.  This just might be the opportunity I need to get them both going in the right direction.  No more compensatory effects.  

Today, I feel better knowing what to expect.  And, because I know what to expect, I am not looking forward to this.  But, here we are. 

K-3

 

March 16, 2026 was the first one.  That was the day I had a total knee replacement on my left leg.  It was much anticipated as I was struggling with mobility, discomfort and doing the things I wanted to do.  I looked forward to surgery as it promised to be life changing, according to everyone I talked to that had a fresh knee.  Well, it was life changing but I couldn’t say for the better.  My recovery absolutely sucked and progress was slow.  

In early September, I recognized it wasn’t very likely that I would ever have what I had pre-surgery.  But, I acknowledged my aging, a “new normal” and moved on.  Over the next month and a half, I watched closely and recognized that the pain I was having wasn’t from my new left knee, but rather from the bad right one.  “Oh boy, now what do I do?” I thought.  Considering the sheer cost of the surgery and having met our “out of pocket max” for the year, it made sense financially just to get it done.  But, the emotional toll of the last surgery felt like a little more than I could take less than 8 months later.  

Last Wednesday, I went to see my doctor to get some advice.  Should I try to wait until medicare 20 months away?  Do I put it off because it’s not as bad as I make it out to be?  Should I adjust my activity, downgrade quality of life until it becomes more affordable?  Off to X-ray to get a better idea of what it looked like, to get more info for the doc.  The PAs first words were “there is nothing left in there” referring to the meniscus that separates the femur from the tibia.  She went on to say, “that looks really painful” validating some of what I was feeling.  The doc came in and had a look, saying, “it’s time.”  I felt relief to have someone else taking control, telling me what to do.  

We talked about scheduling as I wanted to take advantage of out of pocket being met for 2026 but here we are the end of October.  The scheduler said, “we have a slot next Wednesday.”  I wasn’t ready for that!  1 week to prepare.  “Ok, let’s do it!”  

Today is Sunday, 3 days prior to surgery.  This is where I am starting my journal, a couple days into the surgery.  I thought I would share my thoughts as I go into this.  I am not sure how long I will continue, but I feel like after the last one, I should share my experience so others have something to use if they are considering something similar.  

A few days ago, I started feeling a pretty severe pain under the knee cap of my good knee, the left.  It feels like I am. Kneeling on a pebble when I walk.  Over the 24 hours, with rest, it is improving but it definitely isn’t normal yet.  The effect of this is that it makes me question my decision to fix the right one.  But, I have to think long game, that in 10 months, both of them will be better than they are now.  Fingers crossed. 

Mentally, I feel pretty good.  Just going to take it one day at a time, one step (literally) at a time.  I’m going to try to stay positive, using my down time to work on some of my Redline stuff, to do some creative stuff and do some reading.

This writing is for me.  For my brain.  But if it does something for you, or someone you know, all the better.  Feel free to share or if you know someone that has questions, feel free to have them reach out directly.  -K

 Raindrops 

“I love rain drops. There really isn’t a better feeling. It’s cleansing, it’s cold, it’s refreshing, it’s fulfilling.”

     -Author known and loved. 

Rain.  

I recall a time late in the night, nearing midnight, when the rain fell heavily on the marina in Des Moines.  A friend and I decided that it was a good idea to run to the end of the fishing pier and back during the deluge.  I being a more conservative person at the time felt this was a crazy idea but decided to hop in.  On returning to the car, soaked to the skin from head to toe, I realized that the rain was not a big deal and in fact, it was quite exhilarating.  Just rain.  Made us wet is all.  But I didn’t know the rest of the story.

Recently, while driving in southern Colorado, the rain began to fall on the windshield. Each drop was noticeable and it really got me thinking.  Instead of focusing on my driving, I daydreamed of the rain.  So take a moment and follow this personal journey.  

Picture yourself laying on your back, looking to the clouds, only to see a single drop of rain falling.  It leaves its cloudy home, falling toward earth, unable to escape gravity.  That lonely drop finds itself at the mercy of the elements; wind and heat fighting to change it’s trajectory.  Perhaps the raindrop becomes snow, it’s final destiny to be a beautiful blanket across the landscape.  Or perhaps it’s verga; rain that evaporates before touching the ground only to start its journey anew.  

Eventually, that solitary drop finds its way to earth, landing at will wherever chance may take it.  Perhaps it drops into the ocean or maybe a puddle.  Perhaps it lands on your face as you gaze toward the heavens, running down your cheek and falling to the soil.   

Journey complete.

But is the journey complete?  As the raindrop completes its free fall from the heaven’s towards earth, the descent is only one part of the journey.  Once the drop hits the earth, the work really begins.  That rain drop, nothing but a bit of water falling thousands of feet become an essential element, nourishing the earth, bringing life and sometimes death to our planet.  If conditions are right, the drop bends rays of light into beautiful colors stretching across the sky.

On that day in southern Colorado, I thought about each raindrop and how they represent our lives.  We are all affected by the environment and elements, our destination is unclear and the journey doesn’t end when you make it to your first goal.  Often, where we think there is an end, there is only a beginning.