If you've been reading this blog, it's possible you might have come away with the opinion that I'm a fairly well-informed, proactive, on-top-of-it patient. That's certainly the impression I've tried to leave. I wrote about doing my research before meeting my surgeon, negotiating with the nurses about my own care and comfort in the hours after my operation, and pushing the boundaries of my own rehab. I listen, I learn, and I speak up - playing an active role in my medical care and the decision-making process. That's what you'd think if you've been reading this blog: Tim is a smart patient - he makes the most of every interaction with his health-care providers, every step along the way.Well, it's all a lie.
Or at least, today it feels like a lie. For all my talk about being proactive in communicating with your doctors and all of that, I really feel like I blew it last week in my six-week follow-up meeting with my surgeon. He looked at my x-ray, then looked me in the eye and said, "You're doing great." I mumbled something about some lingering discomfort and he said not to worry about it and I was out the door in five minutes.
The fact of the matter is that I'm still very, very uncomfortable - which is Tim-code for saying "I'm still in a lot of pain." I am surprised at just how uncomfortable I am at this point. For most of this blog, I've reported (truthfully so) that I've been way ahead of the expectation curve. I was standing up within an hour of leaving the recovery room, I was out of the hospital 24 hours later, I went back to work two weeks after that, I was dismissed from physical therapy after four sessions, and I parked the crutches after four weeks. I've intended to set records at just about every stage in this process - and I've largely succeeded. But not so in the "discomfort" department - and I really blew it in my meeting with Dr. Mokris last week. I mean, I actually overheard him dictating his notes outside the exam room while I was getting dressed and I heard him say something like "the patient is doing extremely well...."
I feel like I'm doing extremely crappy. And I blew the chance to convey that to him. I did exactly what I advise people all the time not to do. I let the moment intimidate me. I mean, the man who does more joint replacements than anyone in this city looked me in the eye and said I was doing great. Who am I to have argued?
In my own defense, I was tired, sore, and distracted (my mother was due in surgery just an hour later). But I still didn't push as hard as I should have. I wasn't as adamant about just how much it hurts, nor my own concerns at this point.
I tried to reconcile things a bit today when I called Dr. Mokris' post-op nurse... but I'm not sure how well I did. She offered to call in some more pain meds (although at a reduced dosage) - and she assured me some people do, in fact, experience pain for up to three months post-op. I remember Dr. Mokris saying that, as well, but I still don't think I was as on-the-record with him as I should have been. I didn't point to where it hurts, didn't explain when it hurts, and didn't ask enough "what-if-this-doesn't-change?" questions. I just got that deer-in-the-headlights look and was happy to hear him say how well I'm doing - regardless of how I really felt.
So... what to do now? Here's my plan: Hettie and I are taking a little vacation in a few days. I'm going to get some sun, enjoy the 90-degree waters of the Bahamas, try do some sailing and snorkeling, and just rest up. I'll take as much pain medicine as I need to stay comfortable the entire time - no trying to space out the time 'til my next dose, no trying to tough it out, no saving meds for as long as possible "just in case I need them later." I'm going to do everything I can to have a good week and forget about all this stuff and all the other real-life things that weigh me down.
And when I get home, if this thing still hurts as much as it does right now, I'm going to... um, well, I'm not sure. I guess I'll get back in to see the doctor, explain more about the pain, and take it from there. "Be your own advocate" - that's the advice I give people all the time about their medical care. "Speak up. Don't hold back."
If I'm still miserable two weeks from now, remind me of all that, ok?
