If I had been able to move my leg during my procedure on Friday, I really would have kicked my doctor in the face. He’s great, but also just lucky that I didn’t feel like I could actually move my leg at the time.
Let’s rewind a little bit.
You all know that I’ve had chronic right knee problems for the last six (!!) years. For over a year, I’ve been seeing a physiatrist to see if there are injection therapies he can do that my surgeon can’t. Over the last year, I’ve had more injections and physical therapy appointments than I can count. Every single injection he’s done has been under ultrasound, so he can be sure he’s hitting the spots where most of my pain is.
I’ve had amniofix, cortisone, and prolotherapy. We’ve been through a lot together and a few months ago, after a particularly frustrating appointment on both of our parts, he said, “I won’t quit if you don’t quit, ok?”. It’s nice to have a doctor that doesn’t want to give up on you, and now here we are.
Two months ago, I had my most recent prolotherapy shot. After that, the pain got significantly worse so I called my doctor and, like the wonderful gentleman he is, he squeezed me into his busy schedule for an appointment that week. We discussed my increased knee pain (duh), and he once again moved the ultrasound probe around my knee. And do you know what he found?
A torn MCL. That most definitely wasn’t torn the month before when I had an MRI and during any of the ultrasounds I’ve consistently had over the last year. I was honestly beginning to think I was going crazy imagining the pain so I was glad to finally have a answer. After discovering the tear, we decided that instead of jumping right into surgery #5, we’d try a round of PRP.
I had to wait 5 weeks for the PRP appointment and during that time, my knee deteriorated to the point where for a month I had to resort to crutches to get around. It sucked, you guys.
So my appointment was for last Friday, just after 12:30. Naturally, I took the day off work because I knew I wouldn’t be able to focus my brain on anything, I knew I’d be nervous, and I knew there was no way that I’d be able to go back to work after the surgery.
I’ve known my doctor’s medical assistant for as long as I’ve known him and when she called me back to the room on Friday, she said, “we think we can fix it this time, you are such a trooper”. I went into the room, waited briefly for my doctor, and once he came in we got right to work taking a whole bunch of blood out of a vein in my arm. I won’t go into detail, but it was kind of a disaster. My veins hide, you guys. Hide.
Anyway, we eventually got enough blood to do the treatment so off the blood went to the centrifuge to be spent to separate the platelets from the blood cells so they could be injected into my screwed up knee. While my blood was spinning, my doctor and I were talking. He is a master of distracting me.
When the blood was ready (that was so weird to type) he injected the two spots in my knee he was going to be putting the PRP in with lidocaine to “numb” it, then he got to work.
Now, before you all think I’m just a wimp that can’t handle needles, let me tell you that during every single one of my injections over the last year, I’ve watched the whole thing on the ultrasound like a totally weirdo. I saw the needle. In my knee. And how deep it goes. Previous injections have hurt, but they had nothing on the PRP. Nothing.
To be fair to my doctor, he did warn me about when it would really hurt. At first it was just uncomfortable, then he came at me with the “this part is really going to hurt”. I can handle a lot of pain, so just assumed it would be like my previous injections.
I. Was. Wrong.
I was gritting my teeth and clenching my hands together like you would not believe. It was at this time that I honestly thought about kicking him in the face. It felt like I was having surgery performed on my knee without any anesthesia. After he was done with that portion of the injection he said, “I wasn’t joking about the pain, was I?”. No. No he was not.
So that happened, I couldn’t kick him because I was genuinely afraid to move my leg, and we were done. He had me sit up and went to get the brace guy. Who had me stand up to get a brace on. My leg felt so weird I wasn’t even sure I could stand, but I did. I got the dang brace on and now I have to wear it for two weeks. Given that my doctor also told me I wasn’t allowed to do any activities for two weeks that seems a little unfair, but I’m rolling with it.
I don’t think this will work, but I’m trying to remain optimistic. Otherwise, it’s back to the operating room for me. But my doctor told me he wouldn’t quit, so I won’t quit either.
