21 January 2016
Story #796
R. Linda:
As it happened, I was sent home with a torture device from the hospital. Yes, I was. I was told that some surgeons prescribed this to speed up the leg-bending process after surgery. In contrast, others wanted the patient to work out the kinks independently, utilising this mechanical wonder. I had the first kind of surgeon. Well, I was strapped into this thing the first day in hospital . . . here let me show you; see below:
R. Linda:
As it happened, I was sent home with a torture device from the hospital. Yes, I was. I was told that some surgeons prescribed this to speed up the leg-bending process after surgery. In contrast, others wanted the patient to work out the kinks independently, utilising this mechanical wonder. I had the first kind of surgeon. Well, I was strapped into this thing the first day in hospital . . . here let me show you; see below:
 |
| Continuous passive motion machine, AKA torture device for some |
I was all set for a pain-filled, gruelling session of torture because I had heard about this device while in the hospital. I saw it being used on some poor devil a few rooms down. Me PT person was walking me down the halls to get the leg exercising when he stopped to ask a nurse a question, and there I was standing outside one of the patient rooms. I looked in because I could hear complaining.
"Oh hell, is it time for that infernal thing?" A cranky voice shouted.
"Now, sir, you know your doctor ordered this. Is that comfortable?" She asked, strapping him in.
"You know it isn't when it starts moving!" Was his retort.
Well, having one of those "infernal things" delivered to me room made me take an interest.
The machine was turned on, and the moaning and the "that hurts, dammit" made me take pause. I was to be subject to this very same torture. I reluctantly returned to me room to stare at the machine across from my bed. It was all lined in sheepskin, making it look comfy, but now I knew better.
The nurse came in, the same one who had strapped the other patient to el torturous machine, and that made me cringe. Me roommate groaned when he saw it and said, "Oh God, that thing! Glad it isn't for me! Had that the first time I had knee replacement surgery, and oh God, how that hurt. Passive my ass! I thought I'd go through the roof each time I had to use it. AND the PT people kept making it move my leg higher!"
With that statement, I was ready for a screaming and yelling session. I was strapped in and told to ignore the guy next door, which was pretty hard when he asked them to close the curtains between us so he didn't have to watch the torture. She told me they had it on 70 degrees, and I needed to get it to 100 as soon as I could because using this thing would improve my ability to bend me knee. The degrees were the angle of bend in the knee. I told them that, due to the swelling, it was impossible. She told me it was not. So much for protests and excuses.
She turned it on, and this gentle whirring noise started. I lay there watching me knee being pushed back towards my chest, waiting for the pain to start. I lay there wondering why I wasn't in excruciating pain. It was the ON-Q that had blocked the pain sensation, and so me leg was gliding back and forth. By the second day of being home and the machine home with me, I had reached the desired 100 degrees. But back in the hospital, me roommate had them open the curtains to watch with a stunned expression on his face that I wasn't wrestling me way out of the machine. I do believe if I did not have that pain inhibitor, I would have been doing just that.
Once home, I found getting into my bed an impossible task. We have an old-fashioned four-poster bed set high off the floor. I couldn't get in it for the life of me. Me operated leg felt very heavy with all the new metal inside it. Between Mam and Tonya, they took the mattress and box spring and put them on the floor, so all I had to do was sit down slightly, and there I was. I am not one for sleeping on the floor, as you well know, especially after the mattress tried to murder me in me sleep when I first moved in. I be sure you remember THAT episode (see Don't Try This At Home -- For That Matter Don't Try It PERIOD! February 16, 2015). Sleeping in this manner made me frustrated, so I worked those PT exercises to the point of exhaustion to gain more mobility, and I achieved it in three days. Tonya and Mam got the bed back together, calling me a wuss and all sorts of lovely names because it was a chore to undo the bed, and there I was, demanding they put it back.
PT day one was very interesting for me, at least. The first person to arrive was a young lady who took my vital signs, measured me blood pressure, and completed the necessary paperwork. We chatted a treat, and then in the afternoon, the PT person showed up. He was missing fingers on both hands, and I politely refrained from asking about that, though I was curious. He slipped on blue latex gloves, and I watched the empty finger holes with fascination. It was hard to look away, and I wondered how he managed to do his job with most of his digits missing. He was a bruiser of a guy, so no messing around. He had me in contortions that would have had me begging for mercy if I didn't have the ON-Q. At one point, as we were finishing up the torture, he became fascinated with the electric fireplace. He went over to look it over, telling me to do 10 more repetitions. He'd turn to ask me a question as I struggled with tired muscles until I realised he wasn't paying any attention to me. I started doing the exercise with my other leg, which was very easy. He had no clue and had turned to talk to me several times, and there I was with the wrong leg pumping away. I know I was cheating, but geez, the first day home and six exercises right off the bat, with 10 reps each, three times a day - well, to this guy, it was rather too much.
"Oh hell, is it time for that infernal thing?" A cranky voice shouted.
"Now, sir, you know your doctor ordered this. Is that comfortable?" She asked, strapping him in.
"You know it isn't when it starts moving!" Was his retort.
Well, having one of those "infernal things" delivered to me room made me take an interest.
The machine was turned on, and the moaning and the "that hurts, dammit" made me take pause. I was to be subject to this very same torture. I reluctantly returned to me room to stare at the machine across from my bed. It was all lined in sheepskin, making it look comfy, but now I knew better.
The nurse came in, the same one who had strapped the other patient to el torturous machine, and that made me cringe. Me roommate groaned when he saw it and said, "Oh God, that thing! Glad it isn't for me! Had that the first time I had knee replacement surgery, and oh God, how that hurt. Passive my ass! I thought I'd go through the roof each time I had to use it. AND the PT people kept making it move my leg higher!"
With that statement, I was ready for a screaming and yelling session. I was strapped in and told to ignore the guy next door, which was pretty hard when he asked them to close the curtains between us so he didn't have to watch the torture. She told me they had it on 70 degrees, and I needed to get it to 100 as soon as I could because using this thing would improve my ability to bend me knee. The degrees were the angle of bend in the knee. I told them that, due to the swelling, it was impossible. She told me it was not. So much for protests and excuses.
She turned it on, and this gentle whirring noise started. I lay there watching me knee being pushed back towards my chest, waiting for the pain to start. I lay there wondering why I wasn't in excruciating pain. It was the ON-Q that had blocked the pain sensation, and so me leg was gliding back and forth. By the second day of being home and the machine home with me, I had reached the desired 100 degrees. But back in the hospital, me roommate had them open the curtains to watch with a stunned expression on his face that I wasn't wrestling me way out of the machine. I do believe if I did not have that pain inhibitor, I would have been doing just that.
Once home, I found getting into my bed an impossible task. We have an old-fashioned four-poster bed set high off the floor. I couldn't get in it for the life of me. Me operated leg felt very heavy with all the new metal inside it. Between Mam and Tonya, they took the mattress and box spring and put them on the floor, so all I had to do was sit down slightly, and there I was. I am not one for sleeping on the floor, as you well know, especially after the mattress tried to murder me in me sleep when I first moved in. I be sure you remember THAT episode (see Don't Try This At Home -- For That Matter Don't Try It PERIOD! February 16, 2015). Sleeping in this manner made me frustrated, so I worked those PT exercises to the point of exhaustion to gain more mobility, and I achieved it in three days. Tonya and Mam got the bed back together, calling me a wuss and all sorts of lovely names because it was a chore to undo the bed, and there I was, demanding they put it back.
PT day one was very interesting for me, at least. The first person to arrive was a young lady who took my vital signs, measured me blood pressure, and completed the necessary paperwork. We chatted a treat, and then in the afternoon, the PT person showed up. He was missing fingers on both hands, and I politely refrained from asking about that, though I was curious. He slipped on blue latex gloves, and I watched the empty finger holes with fascination. It was hard to look away, and I wondered how he managed to do his job with most of his digits missing. He was a bruiser of a guy, so no messing around. He had me in contortions that would have had me begging for mercy if I didn't have the ON-Q. At one point, as we were finishing up the torture, he became fascinated with the electric fireplace. He went over to look it over, telling me to do 10 more repetitions. He'd turn to ask me a question as I struggled with tired muscles until I realised he wasn't paying any attention to me. I started doing the exercise with my other leg, which was very easy. He had no clue and had turned to talk to me several times, and there I was with the wrong leg pumping away. I know I was cheating, but geez, the first day home and six exercises right off the bat, with 10 reps each, three times a day - well, to this guy, it was rather too much.
All in all, I was able to do what he told me on my own and worked me way to three visits total from home care before being released to the outpatient PT services. On his last visit, he took the ON-Q out and left me quaking that now the pain would start. To my surprise, it didn't. I was sufficiently mobile with the knee that I didn't need a painkiller.
My first visit to outpatient PT had me jittery that I'd not last the car ride there. I sat with me legs across the backseat, hoping I could last the 25-minute ride to the facility. I did it with ease. My new PT person was a woman who did a lot more than me last PT person when I had first broken me leg. She explained what muscles were weak and why we needed to strengthen them, something the other one had not. She had me come three times a week, but by the second week, I was down to two times a week, and we got rid of the cane.
I be progressing. I'm back at work part-time, but from home. I can drive, but they don't want me driving on slick, snowy roads, so I wonder if I be home all winter! Snow is expected to arrive this weekend, so I will not be driving for a while. I am bored, I will tell you that. There is only a certain amount of exercise one can do twice a day that keeps one occupied for an hour, and then there isn't anything to do because of what? I moved to the freaking wilderness, and I can't go out for the icy snow, and the roads are impassable, so here I be making paper airplanes. I may take up origami. Make shamrocks and crazy stuff, annoy the family.
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
My first visit to outpatient PT had me jittery that I'd not last the car ride there. I sat with me legs across the backseat, hoping I could last the 25-minute ride to the facility. I did it with ease. My new PT person was a woman who did a lot more than me last PT person when I had first broken me leg. She explained what muscles were weak and why we needed to strengthen them, something the other one had not. She had me come three times a week, but by the second week, I was down to two times a week, and we got rid of the cane.
I be progressing. I'm back at work part-time, but from home. I can drive, but they don't want me driving on slick, snowy roads, so I wonder if I be home all winter! Snow is expected to arrive this weekend, so I will not be driving for a while. I am bored, I will tell you that. There is only a certain amount of exercise one can do twice a day that keeps one occupied for an hour, and then there isn't anything to do because of what? I moved to the freaking wilderness, and I can't go out for the icy snow, and the roads are impassable, so here I be making paper airplanes. I may take up origami. Make shamrocks and crazy stuff, annoy the family.
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
you dodged a bullet! no snow for you lololol. i am sure you are delighted it went south! as to exercising the wrong leg ... gees louise you are lucky you didn't get caught roflmao
ReplyDeleteYes we did. AND he was too busy looking over the fireplace. What can I say?
Delete