ACL Post-Op Day 5 and 6

The last few days have been filled with firsts for my post-op life, which is a good sign that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, and soon enough, this whole experience will be over with!
Yesterday, I took a shower for the first time since my operation. I know that sounds pretty gross, and it would to me, too, if my interpretation of life was anything like it was before this happened.  Now, the fact that I spend 99% of my day sitting or laying in bed because I can't do anything else makes the fact that I haven't showered far less significant than the fact that I have no where to go, couldn't get there if I wanted to, and don't really have anyone to talk to about it (except you fine folk and my immediate family) or to even notice if I did shower. So, while I desperately needed a shower, I had no idea how it was going to go, and I certainly wasn't looking forward to it.
When I saw the doctor on Friday he said give it a couple of more days before I got my surgery sight wet. I still did everything I could to keep the wounds from getting wet, but it didn't quite work out as I had expected. I left the bandages on and wrapped them in plastic wrap, but I didn't tape it, and it didn't hold. So my bandages got wet, but because I was sitting on the bench in the shower, my knee didn't really get that wet anyway, and the wounds didn't even get damp.

I can't wait until taking a shower is no big deal again!

It was a pretty quick process, but I did need my husband's help.  If I hadn't dropped the soap on my knee, I think things would have been pretty uneventful. So that hurt a little bit, but it's fine now. Getting in and out is always scary because everything is slick. I highly recommend using the bench that sticks out of the shower because you can just sit down and slide all the way over and there's no climbing over anything.
Another first for yesterday was sleeping on my side. I hate sleeping on my back, but I have been trying to do it because I think it's the best way to ensure I don't bend my knee all the way up. Last night, I slept on my side with a pillow between my legs and my left leg on a different pillow. I had the ice machine pad wedged in there as well. I think this worked pretty well. My knee was possibly even straighter that way than it has been when I've been on my back. I also put some pillows behind my back so I could flip over a little onto my back if I needed to. So, in this position, I actually slept for about six hours, which is the longest I've slept since before the surgery. This meant that I slept through my pain medicine though, so when I did wake up, my knee was starting to hurt. Once you get behind, in my experience, it takes a while to catch up, and so I've been in pain most of the day, though it's been tolerable. It's been at about a three or four all day, maybe getting up to a six for a little while.
It's getting a little worse now because I don't have any ice on it, and we are within the two hour window of when I need to take my medicine again.  The reason I am out of ice is because of today's first--first day at home by myself. My husband went to work for the first time since the surgery today, so there isn't anyone to refill the ice machine.  I'll be okay for the next couple of hours until he gets home, but it does show just how much this $200 investment has paid off.
Being at home by myself today has been a little different than I thought. I expected to sleep most of the day, but I really haven't much.  I'm hopeful that tomorrow will be more productive! Either I'll sleep or write the next great American novel... or catch up on the shows on the DVR.
This is where I'm at almost a week after my surgery. Let me know if anyone has any questions!

ACL Post Op Day 4

Just a brief update on day four after my ACL reconstruction/meniscus removal surgery.  I have read in a few places that day four has been like a brick wall, but that hasn't been my experience at all. I haven't been in too much pain today, and I have a lot more strength in my leg. I can get up and down off of the bed now with very limited help, and sometimes I can do it myself. Before, I was using my hands to lift my leg, and my husband often had to help me lift my heel onto the bed.
I have been exhausted today, however. I think it's that lack of sleep catching up with me. Last night, I think I slept about two hours in a row a couple of times, which is better than the ten or so minutes I had been sleeping in a row the nights/days before.  Today, I have fallen asleep dozens of times but haven't slept too long any one time except for a two hour nap. I am still jerking around quite a bit, and I've read that might be due to the opioids. So, I'll fall asleep and then have a muscle spasm or some sort of a full-body hiccup type of reaction and wake myself up. Sometimes it's my hurt knee, but lots of times, it's another part of my body.  It's not any fun at all, and it will be interesting to see if it tapers off as I stop using the hydrocodone.
I've stayed ahead of my medicine all day today, and I've used my ice machine all day.  My pain hasn't really gotten above a four or five, and that's just been when I've returned from an activity, like getting back into bed after using the restroom. That's basically been the extent of my activities again today. I know some people are allowed to walk around, etc., by now. But I'm not. My doctor made it pretty clear he didn't want me putting any weight on my operative leg at all and he mostly wants me resting and elevating with ice. I also am supposed to do ankle pumps and quad exercises, which I am doing.
So, that's been day 4.  The swelling seems to have gone down quite a bit. I am having some itching around the bandage site. Tomorrow, I am allowed to take a shower so long as I keep the incisions covered, so we'll see how that goes.
Questions? Comments? Concerns??

ACL Post-Op Day 3

I wanted to update this quickly without writing too much. I'm on some pretty strong pain medication (hydrocodone, which is strong for me) so you just never know what I might be inclined to write.  But I think it's important not only to update my family and friends but to also leave more information for those to come....
Yesterday was really rough. I went to the doctor to have my bandages removed and just getting in and out of the car, etc. was exhausting. The wound looks fine, and it's nice not having all that bulkiness wrapped around my leg. But the nurse who took the bandages off was a little rough, and if my leg wasn't straight when I went in, well, it is now, for the first time in about two months.

Here it is in all of its glory! Just a tad swollen....

I came home and went back to bed. I think the best advice I've gotten so far is to stay ahead of the pain, so that's what I've been trying to do. I have pillows behind my back and shoulders, and my leg is propped up so that it's above my heart when I'm laying down, which is most of the time. I have the ice machine on it at all times. The doctor said I could take the immobilizer off as long as I'm not up, so it's off almost all of the time. I have read a lot of other posts where people say they are supposed to leave their immobilizers on basically all of the time, so I clarified this point a few times with my doctor. It is a lot more comfortable to have it off, and sense the doctor said I could take it off unless I'm on the crutches, it's off. I have an ace bandage wrapped around it, as well as the "dust covers" he put on the wounds, a towel, the ice machine pad, and a blanket.
Last night, I was able to sleep a little bit more, but only because I took my medicine exactly as prescribed. I didn't wait for it to start hurting. I am taking the hydrocodone six hours apart. He also said I could take the Tramadol two hours after I take the hydrocodone.  I've read that Tramadol can be pretty addictive, so I'm not taking it every two hours, but I am taking it every four if I feel like the hydrocodone isn't as effective as it could be.  I am also still on antibiotics. My mental state is pretty fuzzy most of the time. I think this is more due to the exhaustion than the medicine, though the medicine makes me sleepy. I haven't gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep in a row since Monday, and it's Saturday now. I am even having a hard time writing this because it keeps getting blurry.
I only get up to go to the bathroom. I have rails installed on the toilet still from when I originally injured myself, so that helps, but I still require supervision. My husband always gets the fun jobs! Just getting up out of bed is hard.  I can't really lift my leg yet, so he has to help me get it off of the pillows and then slide it out of bed. Then I have to transfer to the wheelchair, to the toilet, and then reverse. By the time that's all done, I am very lightheaded and exhausted.  It's very painful. It hurts on the inside of my leg especially, shooting down from my knee through my shin. So I wait until the very last minute to go to the bathroom--and I'm really hoping I don't end up with a UTI because of it. It's just that painful. Hopefully, in a day or two, when my leg is stronger, getting out of bed won't hurt so much.
I am doing ankle pumps and quad tightening exercises designed to strengthen my leg muscles.  I think this is helping with regaining the strength in my leg.
My leg is still pointed out a bit. The doctor said this is due to swelling and not to worry about it.  I'm having a hard time keeping it from laying down on it's side on top of the pillows, so it's rotated out, and I'm hoping this is okay.  The doctor said it was fine yesterday....
I go to physical therapy next Friday. Hope to have a better timeline for recovery then. I also go back to the doctor next Friday.
That's all for now.... Please feel free to leave a comment if you have any insight. Your prayers and well-wishes are always appreciated!

ACL Reconstruction Surgery and Recovery

It's all over now except the healing.... I had my ACL reconstruction/meniscus removal surgery yesterday morning, and I am now on my way to recovery.  I wanted to write about my experience because in doing my own research, I've found there are not a lot of actual accounts from real patients available, and the ones that are out there are kind of old. There are some YouTube videos, but I think writing can often provide more information because it's easier to go back and add things in. So, this may be a long post, but hopefully it will be helpful to anyone else going through this process.
My surgery took place at Methodist Hospital for Surgery in Addison, Texas. I was told to be there at 6:00 for an 8:30 start time, but when I got there, all of my paperwork actually said 6:30.  That's okay--it jut ended up being a little bit more of a wait.  There was definitely no one there when we got there, so there was no wait to get paperwork and bills paid, etc.
When we pulled up, Brian went in to get a wheelchair. We had mine, but they recommended we use there's, and that did end up being easier. It took a while for an orderly to bring it, but eventually he did, and I was able to go in and wait for Brian while he parked the car.  I waited in the lobby and watched the news for a few minutes. Before he even came back in, a nice lady from billing came and greeted me. We waited for Brian and then went back to sign paperwork and pay my portion of the hospital's bill.  Maybe it is tacky to discuss money, but I do see a lot of people wanting to compare how much surgeries cost, so I don't mind saying that our portion, 20% of the hospital's fee, was about $1500.
Next, we met a nice man named Eddy whose job was to keep Brian informed of what was happening while I was in surgery. He took me upstairs and into the pre-op waiting room. He got Brian's cell phone number, showed him where the cafe, vending machines, coffee machine, etc. were located. Then, a really nice nurse came out and got us and took us to the pre-op area.
Our curtained off area wasn't very big. It didn't have a window or a TV. I found out later that the one next to us did have both of these things, so I was a little disappointed. It would have been nice to have both of those things as we waited. It was just about 6:30 by the time I got back to that area. The nurse took my blood pressure, which was a little high, likely because I was nervous. She took my temperature, etc. and I had to do a pregnancy test. She said everyone who hasn't had a hysterectomy is required to do one.

Almost every staff member we met was extremely nice and helpful.

After that, I changed into the awesome hospital gown and some yellow socks with the anti-slip surface, transferred to the bed, and waited for the next nurse to come in and start my IV.  I had a warm blanket, but it was really, really cold in there. I almost asked for another blanket, but I toughed it out.
After about fifteen minutes, another nurse came in and started my IV. She also drew a few vials of blood, which she was able to take out of the IV prick so she didn't have to poke me twice.  She had me write on my knee. She said I could write whatever I wanted, so I wrote, "This one!" And then we waited, and waited, and waited. It was about an hour and a half, I think, before the next person came in.  Meanwhile, next door, a very animated couple took up residence. That woman was having back surgery which was also scheduled for 8:30, and she didn't arrive until 7:30, and had a constant stream of doctors and nurses over to discuss things with her. I know it was a totally different procedure, but I was feeling a little neglected, really cold, and wondering why they got a TV--and a window.
It was almost 8:30 on the nose when the first doctor showed up, and it was the anesthesiologist. By then, the entire bag of IV fluids had run out, so he had to get another bag going before he could give me the "happy" medicine.  As he went off to do that, a lady brought in the Polar Care cooler the doctor had arranged for and showed us how that works. I'd talked to her the day before and decided to go ahead and get it even though my insurance didn't cover it. I had read a lot about how this machine, which circulates cool water around the surgical area, does a lot for pain. So, I thought it was worth the $198.
As the Polar lady was finishing up, my ortho came in. He is a man of few words. He told me again what he was going to do, nothing I didn't expect, asked if I still had enough hydrocodone at home (to which I said, won't I need something stronger, and he said probably not) and asked Brian if he had any questions. I don't even know what it was I was supposed to ask, so I didn't have a lot of questions. I had been told earlier I would have to walk before I could go home so I asked if he thought that was going to happen (since I haven't walked in two months) and he said with help but I won't be putting weight on my right leg still.
The anesthesiologist came back in as my ortho and the Polar lady left.  They asked Brian to go to the waiting room now because it was time to do my femoral block. He would get to come back later to tell me goodbye, but things were getting real now, and I wasn't sure if I'd even remember if he came back in later or not.
The OR nurse came in and asked me my name and all of the questions about why I was there again--it's like a quiz and you have to pass it each time. She looked at my knee (my doctor also had to write something on it) and got on to me a little bit for not writing my initials. (The nurse said I could write whatever I wanted....) The anesthesiologist put something nice in my IV and I became very, very calm. I did hear him ask the nurse to go get him an anesthesiology tech at least three times before I started to drift into another dimension. He finally went out to get the other guy himself. I was still awake and semi-aware of what was going on, but not so much.  It took the two anesthesiologist guys a long time to find whatever it was they were looking for in my leg. They had an ultrasound machine and they were speaking a language that may as well have been foreign to me. I guess they were finally satisfied with what they had found and he put the blocker into my upper thigh.  I didn't feel it at all, although it must have been some heavy duty needle because I have quite the puncture wound now.
Brian did come back to say goodbye, though I barely remember it, and then I was wheeled back to the OR by the anesthesiologist guys and two OR nurses. When I got into the operating room, I was asked to transfer to the other bed, or table, and they helped me over. I remember thinking how everything looked so sterile and white, including the giant light hanging over the table.  I don't remember seeing my ortho in there at all. I don't remember being asked to count backwards or anything like that. I just remember moving over, and then the next thing I knew, I was in the Phase I recovery room.
I wasn't in any pain, but my mouth was incredibly dry.  The nurse offered me a pain pill, some water, and some crackers, all of which I accepted. My throat felt raw, I assume because of the tube that they probably put down it, but it didn't really hurt. I was having a hard time talking though.
My leg was wrapped in layers of gauze, ace bandages, and a huge immobilizer. I could tell the blocker was still working because it felt pretty numb, although I could feel my foot; I had my left sock on, but not my right, and my foot was cold.
I wasn't awake in Phase I for very long before the nurse wheeled me over to Phase II. Brian was brought back a few minutes later. I was really, really tired, but I also really needed to use the restroom because of all of that IV fluid. It took two nurses and Brian, but I was able to transfer into a wheelchair and go to the restroom before returning to my bed and falling asleep for about two hours. I found out later I was in the Phase I recovery room for about forty-five minutes.  So, all in all, I was in recovery for about three hours before I woke up, needing to go to the restroom again, unfortunately (because it was a real pain!)  and then I was able to get dressed and go home.
I wore some really stretchy, thin capri/yoga pants and a T-shirt, so it wasn't too difficult to get dressed, although the nurse and my husband had to help me.  My leg still wasn't hurting at all as they wheeled me down to the car, but my mouth was still incredibly dry. I wasn't sure how I would get into the car with the immobilizer on because it doesn't actually bend, but I was able to wedge it in by pushing myself up onto the console.
The ride home took about an hour, and the only time my leg hurt was if Brian hit the breaks a little too hard and I leaned forward on it.  I had to stop and get a tea on the way home because my mouth was so dry, but I definitely wasn't hungry, and the last thing I wanted was to end up nauseated or worse.
I got home and went to bed.  Brian hooked the Polar Care unit up, and it didn't seem to be doing anything at first, but it was cold--I just couldn't feel it because my leg was so numb.  Brian went to get my daughters, who had been at a friend's house. When they got home, they were a little leery of coming in because they were afraid that my leg was going to be gross.  Finally, they came in to say hi, but they didn't stay very long. I think they were happy to be home but tired from too much playing and afraid of all the stuff wrapped around my leg.
Brian went to get my prescriptions, which are an antibiotic and a pain medicine called Tramadol, which I hadn't heard of, but I have since read that it isn't very effective. I still have some hydrocodone, though, so I will probably be relying on that. I believe he prescribed the antibiotic because the tendon they used to replace my ACL is from a cadaver, and they want to make sure it doesn't cause an infection.
I didn't really sleep too much yesterday afternoon, though I did doze off for a few minutes from time to time.  I started to have a few aches later in the evening, but nothing too bad. I would say my pain was maybe a 3 or 4 at worst. The doctor had said I could take my immobilizer off to sleep, though I have read other doctors have said not to take it off, but then other patients also get some sort of machine that bends and straightens the knee, and I don't have one of those, so maybe every patient is different. So, when I went to sleep last night, I did take the immobilizer off.  I thought I would be more comfortable without it on, but in retrospect, I'm not sure it would have made any difference. I still had to basically sleep flat on my back because I can't roll onto my side with my knee wrapped in these bandages and gauze. I can bend it some but not completely, and I cannot completely straighten it either.
I didn't sleep well at all last night, despite having taken the Tramadol (I wanted to see how it compared to the hydrocodone.) My back was hurting from being in the same position, and my leg was starting to hurt.  I could tell the blocker was starting to wear off. I couldn't get my knee in a comfortable position.  I think I may have slept for three or four hours total, in half-hour chunks. Luckily, I wasn't going anywhere today.
The blocker was definitely gone by about 9:00 this morning, and my knee was really starting to hurt. Anytime the cold water started to run out of the Polar Care, I could really tell a difference. When it was time to take my pain medicine today, I decided to go with they hydrocodone. It seems to be a lot more helpful than the Tramadol.
Most of the pain I've been having is either in the back of my knee or in my shin, not too much in my knee itself, although there's been a little bit in the anchor site on the top, outside area of my knee.  I've also had a little bit of pain from the immobilizer digging into my leg and the cord from the Polar Cube digging into my foot. At one point, when it wasn't quite time for me to take my new medicine yet, my pain got up to about a five or six, and that's about the worst it's gotten today. I have had a lot of twitching and spasming, jerking, and cramping in my leg today. I decided to put the immobilizer back on because every time I fall asleep, my knee starts jerking around on it's own, which is painful and scary. I'm hoping the immobilizer will prevent any damage, though my understanding is there's not much I can do to re-injure myself at this point short of putting too much weight on it too quickly.
I go to the doctor on Friday to have my bandages changed and to see how everything is healing. Other than that, I'm planning on just doing a lot of resting this weekend.  I'm not supposed to put any weight on my leg this week, but when I go to physical therapy next week, they'll let me know when I can start bearing weight again.
That's where we are at this point, about a day and a half after surgery.  Does anyone have any questions? Anyone else whose been through this care to share their story? In my experience, every little bit of information is helpful, so please feel free to post in the comments or ask questions. I'll update again in a few days.

Zombie Knee

I went back to see my original ortho today to go over the results of my second MRI. If you missed the drama of that rant, you can find my post here. I was definitely going to get a second opinion and even had an appointment scheduled for next Wednesday. It is no longer necessary--because I'm getting a Zombie knee.
The doctor looked at my new MRI and realized that when I re-injured myself my meniscus folded up and is now stuck inside of my knee, preventing the joint from functioning. Suspicion of this is what caused him to order the second MRI in the first place, so I'm glad he did, even though it wasn't a lot of fun. He said this is why I can't bear weight and why I can't straighten my leg. Of course, I suspected this all along. (I have done my research.) So I wasn't really surprised. He said the only thing we can do is go in and take it out.  He's basically just going to cut off the inside front half of my meniscus.
And if you cut off a meniscus, you may as well replace an ACL (I'm a kindergarten teacher at heart, remember? If you give a mouse a cookie....)
So he is going to go ahead and replace my ACL with a new one. Okay, not a new one, and old one. One from someone else who isn't using it anymore.
A cadaver.
I am an organ donor, and I think it's a great thing to donate your body to science. Somewhere, there is an ACL in safe keeping with my name on it that someone so graciously donated once they passed on. The thought is a little creepy, but their sacrifice is greatly appreciated. Still, I can't help but think of it as a Zombie body part. Back from the dead. (Since I am also an organ donor. I wonder if a third person will get to use this tendon....)

What's in your knee? In your knee? Zombie. Zombie. Zombie--ee-ee-ee!

The reason the surgeon can't take my own hamstring or some other tendon as is often done in these sorts of operations is because my tendons and ligaments are too stretchy. He was shocked that my left knee automatically hyper-extends whenever I straighten it.  So using my own tendon or ligament wouldn't be the best idea.
I will be scheduling my surgery tomorrow. He said it would be next week at the earliest. He is calling in his partner for this one; apparently, he thinks my knee may be as cantankerous as I am. He said it will probably take two hours. I should be walking within three weeks of the surgery though. That's the part I am the most excited about--I don't care about the pain and the discomfort--I want to walk again.
It will probably take a good 3-4 months before I feel normal and a year before he will completely release me. I will still have to do physical therapy, as well, but not until after the surgery.
I'm really excited to get on with this and get it over with. I know it's going to be a lot of pain, but if that's what it takes so I can function again, I'm all for it.
This has been the craziest year ever. From the tornado in December, to having Duke's face bashed in by a horse, to losing Barkley, and then this ridiculousness with my knee, I'm leery of asking what could possibly happen next. Hopefully, it is only good news from now on!
Thanks to everyone who is keeping us in your prayers! We need it. We have two and a half weeks of school left. I'm not sure if I'll be there for all of it, but my girls likely will be, which means Brian's crazy schedule will continue. It's hard having to do everything that you always do and everything your spouse usually does.  He's done an amazing job of taking care of us, and I'm very lucky that he puts up with me. Something tells me the worst part is probably yet to come....
(PS Since everyone seems to be offended by everything these days, please understand that I know that the tendon will not actually be from a zombie, make me a zombie, or that I am insinuating that the person who donated it is now a zombie. It's a "laugh so you don't cry" situation. I applaud organ donors everywhere and their loved ones who support their decisions to donate.)

MRI Take Two

The only way you don't know that I recently tore my ACL and meniscus is if you've never met me before and stumbled upon this blog post blindly.  This is because everyone who has ever met me in my entire life has had to listen to me whine and complain for the last six weeks.  (Note to self: check "unfriending" data on Facebook.) It's not because I am generally a "woe-is-me" type of person (I don't think) it's because having a torn ACL really, really stinks. I can't walk, I can't drive, I can't do much of anything. But... I can complain, apparently.
So, today's post ain't gonna be any different....
I went back to see my ortho a few days ago. Before the appointment, my husband (who is just as sick of this situation as I am) and I decided I was either walking out of there on my own power somehow or we were scheduling surgery.
Neither of those two things happened.
My doctor was shocked when I told him I hadn't been doing physical therapy for the last four weeks--because he never told me to do it!  He says he put it in my notes to have his people call the PT people, who were supposed to call me. None of those things happened. And so he determined that I couldn't have surgery yet because my leg was still too swollen and immobilized.  He didn't know why it wasn't bearing weight better or why it won't straighten, so he sent me back to get another MRI to see if my second injury about five weeks ago caused further damage to my meniscus which may now be blocking the ligaments and keeping my knee from bending. This injury happened after the first MRI.
I was so upset when he told me four more weeks that I almost lost it. I wanted to cry and punch him in the face at the same time.  I mean, it's one thing to say, "You're knee's not ready yet," but something else entirely to say, "Oops... we never called PT." The fact of the matter is, if he had told me I needed to do PT, I would have called them myself. But I'm almost positive that he said let's re-evaluate in four weeks, and if I needed PT later (like after surgery?) we could do it then, but he didn't know if he was going to order it or not because it's so expensive (guess I looked like a bum that day).
Of course I didn't punch him or cry, but I did take my toys and go home. Which translates to mean I immediately went home and started looking for another doctor.  I know this wasn't done intentionally, and there's a good possibility that he could have said no surgery, continue PT anyway, I just don't know how I feel about having someone cut me open after he's already shown himself a bit forgetful and/or unorganized.
So today I went in for my second MRI.  That probably needed to be done anyway.  I went back to the same place I went the first time, Preferred Imaging.  The first time everyone was unbelievably nice and attentive.  I felt like they went out of their way to make sure I was comfortable. Today was not quite the same.  The receptionist was nice enough but not particularly friendly. And the MRI technician was nothing like the last one.  Apparently, the guy right before me was very uncooperative, which put the technician in a sour mood from the beginning.  As he was walking the other guy out, I heard him explaining that he moved too much and that the image was not going to work. He would need to reschedule. The patient seemed pretty insistent that he didn't think that was necessary and he would just take in the blurry image, and the discussion went on for a while. So by the time it was my turn, the tech was about out of patience.  He was doing his best not to take it out on me, but I know how my knee works, and I knew we were in for a bumpy ride.
The tech pulled my wheelchair to a halt about twenty feet from the MRI machine because of the metal and told me I'd have to walk the rest of the way. (Um, sir, if I could walk, I wouldn't be here.) I explained that I couldn't do that, so he had to go find the MRI safe wheelchair. The transfer was anything but graceful, but eventually I was able to wheel myself into where the machine is kept, it's narrow white tubeyness all set up for my session of misery.

There it sat, like a portal to Hell, beckoning me....

Because, if you've never had an MRI before, here's the deal--you can't move. At all.  If you do, it blurs the image. It's kind of like in the olden days when people went to get their pictures made and they had those rods up their backs to keep them from moving and ruining everything.  So he asked me to put my leg in this little positioner that was designed to isolate it, but my leg had to be fairly straight, so you can see how this might be problematic for a person who cannot fully straighten her leg.
I warned him ahead of time that my leg likes to spasm, and that there is nothing I can do about it. He kind of sighed and instructed me to do my best not to move.  Have you ever tried to stay perfectly still for thirty minutes? Not a twitch, not a spasm, nothing? It's really hard. And seeing how upset the tech was with the last guy, well, that just made it even worse for me, because I am a rule follower, and I really didn't want to mess it up and have to come back, and get yelled at for moving too much.
I am lucky that it is my knee that is injured because they don't have to put my whole body in the tube.  It stopped around my waist, so no claustrophobia. I got to listen to the radio, which was also helpful, because those machines are really loud. They sound a lot like a jackhammer.  They vary in loudness and intensity; sometimes it's a constant hum, other times it's pulsating. It's never pleasant.
And so about two minutes in, I realized my leg, which was hurting due to the straightness and the position I needed to hold, was starting to tighten up. Tightening muscles equals movement.  And then the twitching began.  It started in my thigh, and I tried to keep it there, but soon enough it moved to my calf, and then, inevitably to my knee.  Now, this happened last time, too, but the sweet tech lady whom I now love even more came over the speaker and asked if it was involuntary, and when I told her yes, she said not to worry about it, and I was doing great.  This guy said nothing. I knew he was probably swearing and cursing my name. I continued to do my best to keep from moving, but my leg was uncooperative, and it was especially agitated by the jackhammering, pulsating noises the machine made every once in a while.  I knew any minute he was going to yell at me to please hold still, but he actually didn't say anything at all for about 25 minutes.  I know how much time had passed not because there was any sort of clock or timer but because he told me it would take about 25 minutes and because of the average length of songs.... So he finally says, "Are you doing alright?"
I hesitantly said, "Yes, but I know it's spasming. Is it okay?"
There was a long pause during which I mentally envision myself going out and telling my husband and two cherubs who are patiently waiting in the lobby that we have to come back again because Mommy is an MRI failure before he finally says, "It's okay. Just do your best. Some of the scans are bad, but some of them are okay."
Now, I have no idea what this means--I don't know how many scans he is doing, how many have to be good, if a bad scan means extra years in purgatory, or what, but I am at least a bit relieved to hear that some of it is working... to some degree.  He told me it would probably be another seven minutes, and that it is taking longer because I CAN'T STAY STILL!
I suddenly know how those impulsive five-year-olds with ADHD must feel when teachers such as myself tell them to stop jiggling their legs. I apologize, my little friends. Never again.
I don't think it was seven more minutes. I think it was seven more hours. But eventually, he comes back through my headphones and says, "This is the last scan. It will take about two minutes."
And then I started counting. Slowly. To 120. As I concentrated on not moving. By the way, when you are trying not to move, the worst thing you can do is try not to move.  And I counted past 120. And on. And on. Maybe I was counting too fast. Maybe my wiggly leg is prolonging the torture. By now, my leg is burning and screaming at me. It wants to bend so, so badly.  Finally, somewhere between 300 and 400, he says, "Okay. I'm coming to get you out."
Hallelujah!
Once I was out, however, it was almost impossible to stand up and get off of that table. My leg refused to go back to its favorite bent position. It was so stiff and painful. It was all I could do to lift it out of the positioner. I thought Brian might have to come back and help me up. But I made my way off the table, into the chair, transferred to my own chair, and finally out into the waiting room, where the five minute wait for a CD of the experience turned into a fifteen minute wait, and my leg was furious and screaming at me the whole time.
When I finally got home, I immediately took my "good medicine" (it's only hydrocodone, which is nothing to a lot of people, but it puts me to sleep almost immediately) and took a two hour nap.
It's been about seven hours since MRI #2 was completed, and my knee is still angry. I think it might take a few days for it to stop screaming at me.  But hopefully this MRI will give the doctors what they need to decide whether or not my inability to bear weight and straighten my knee is mental or muscular.  I don't know if it's because I haven't been moving it enough or if it really is incapable of being straightened and/or holding me up. I hope to know soon so we can get on with it already.
If and when my knee is strong enough for surgery, it will ultimately be up to me to determine whether or not I want the surgery.  It used to be a given that if you tore your ACL, you were having surgery, especially if it was torn in two, like mine is. It cannot repair itself. Now days, however, unless you're an elite athlete, you may be just fine without getting it surgically prepared. It won't ever heal, but you should be able to do day-to-day activities with no problems. Your ACL stabilizes your knee and keeps your bones from moving too far away from each other. I can't walk, but I have practiced taking steps, and the sensation is very strange. It's hard to explain, but I feel like the bones are moving, like my knee is fuzzy or asleep in the middle, and most unsettling of all, I feel like it could just fold up at any second. I honestly think that, if it is truly my decision, I want to have it repaired. Not because I know without it I'll never fulfill my dreams of becoming a professional soccer player, but because I am so afraid of it sliding out of place again. I can't ever tear it again if I leave it the way it is now, but other things can re-tear, like my meniscus and the other tendons and ligaments, and I'd like to avoid that at all costs. I know the surgery is very painful and the recovery is long and pretty awful.  I just don't know if I can walk around on a bum knee that feels like Jello for the rest of my life. I do realize that, no matter which way I go, I will have to be extremely careful for the rest of my days not to injure it again.

I know several people who have had ACL reconstructive surgery.  If you're one of them, what do you think?  Would you do it again?

A Mother's Reflection on STAAR

Today is a day that will live in infamy--the day Imma finished third grade state assessments.  This is the first year that she has had to take the STAAR (State of Texas Assessment of Academic Readiness) test, but unfortunately, it won't be the last. From now on, every spring, for the rest of her academic career, she will be subjected to these brutal exams to see whether or not she has learned everything she was supposed to in her current grade. I have experienced them as a teacher for many years, but this is my first year to view the STAAR through the lens of parental concern--and let me tell you, the view from here ain't pretty.
I remember taking assessments when I was in elementary school--some of them high stakes, some of them not so much. I grew up in Missouri where we started out with the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. Piece of cake! Then, the state came up with something called the MMAT (don't ask me what that stood for) and it wasn't that hard either. In fact, when I became a teacher in Texas, fifteenish years ago, the state assessments here weren't so difficult. They got a little bit harder with the introduction of TAKS about five years into my career,, but when STAAR came around a few years back, things got more than a little ridiculous. Then, to top it off, the state pushed all of our Essential Knowledge and Skills in math down two grade-levels last year, and now my third grader is supposed to know how to solve equations with equivalent fractions, and my kindergartner is doing pre-algebra (part-part-whole.)

My girls after a long day of being scholarly

Now, I'm all for having high expectations, don't get me wrong. But there is a difference between setting the bar at a challenging level and putting it where no one can even see it. Let's be honest. If the students only need to get around 55% of the questions right in order to pass, and about 25% of them can't do that--that's too hard!  It's not like they have to get a 70% to pass any of these tests. Shouldn't a test be easy enough that about half of the kids should be getting at least a 70%?? I don't know what the passing rates are going to look like once everything is said and done this year, but right now, it's not looking pretty.
But I've sort of high jacked the post here, and I didn't mean to. This wasn't supposed to be about me or my views as a teacher. It was supposed to be about my daughter.  If you read my blog, you know that Imma has autism.  She receives lots of special education services because of her differences. She goes to inclusion for math, has resources for reading, sees an occupational therapist about once a week, sees a speech therapist a couple of times a week, and also sees a music therapist once every two weeks ish.  That's a lot of support. She was also diagnosed as dyslexic last year, though she doesn't receive services (don't get me started.) Despite all of this, the test she takes is the exact same test that the other children take with these differences:
"STAAR A will provide embedded supports designed to help students with disabilities access the content being assessed. These embedded supports include visual aids, graphic organizers, clarifications of construct-irrelevant terms, and text-to-speech functionality."  (This is from the Texas Education Agency website, and you can find out more here.)
  For the reading assessment, she has to read the stories on her own, and then the computer reads her the questions and answer choices.  Maybe that's fair--maybe it's not. All I really know is that it's hard.  Even for students who are not differently-abled, it's hard. We are asking eight-year-olds to analyze text, to infer, to make assumptions based on the text regarding the author's purpose and character's traits.  They need to know the differences between expository and personal narrative. They have to be able to choose between answer choices which are often very, very similar. Choose the best answer.  Not the right answer--the one the person who wrote the test, who may or may not have been a teacher at some point, who certainly doesn't remember what it's like to be eight--happens to like a little bit more than the other answers.  It's really, really hard! It's NOTHING like the tests we took--I took, anyway--when I was a child. And it's not fair! We are robbing our kids of so many things when we subject them to high stakes testing before many of them even feel completely stable on a two-wheel bike. Self-confidence.  Pride.  Resilience.  Trust.  Purpose.  Persistence.  All of these things are questioned and often go out the window when we look a baby in the face and say, "You didn't even get half. Not even half!"
Now, of course, that's not how we phrase it, but we may as well. After all, we've been teaching them all year how to analyze characters, so of course they can read us like a book--or at least like a passage.
And we are filling up our time with plenty of those, too. Passages and lots of them. Unit assessments. Curriculum based assessments.  TEKS checks.  Practice passages. Mock assessments. You name, it they've endured it.  We've taught them "strategies" and "games." We've talked about "best practices" and ways we can "make a good guess" when we are not sure.  We have replaced the joy of coming to school to learn because learning is fun with the nervous unstable existence revolving around the knowledge that eventually the STAAR will come. You cannot hide from it; at some point in your academic career, you will be judged. You will be weighed. And many of you will be told you're not good enough.
STAAR is supposed to measure a lot of things--academic readiness, intelligence, knowledge, reading skills, critical thinking skills, mathematical calculation skills.  Maybe it measures these things. Maybe it doesn't. I'll tell you for sure there are a whole lot of other things it does not measure.  It won't tell you that my child is amazing at building worlds in Minecraft. It won't tell you she can put a puzzle together without looking at the picture. It won't tell you that she's taught herself several songs on the piano. It won't tell you that she's a great big sister, that she helps around the house, that she takes care of her dog, especially during thunderstorms.
STAAR can't tell us how kind, how loving, how considerate, how friendly a child is. It can't tell you how good of a person she is or how hard he tries. It really can't even tell you if a child is "smart" or if he or she will be successful as an adult.  Having seen good readers fail, and struggling readers pull-through, I can honestly tell you I don't even think it tells us if our kids are reading on or above-grade level, or far below.  It may tell us if they know which operation to use to solve an equation, or maybe it doesn't.  It might tell us how careful a child is to read questions exactly, or if they rush, or if they are so nervous about taking a test at the age of eight that their anxiety has literally made them vomit all over their test (I know this happens. I have seen this happen. Recently.)
What do I propose, then, you might ask? Should we make it easier? Should we wait until later?  My answer may surprise other educators, but that's okay, because today I am speaking primarily as a mom. I do not think it should be so difficult. I don't think our third graders should be learning the same mathematical skills I learned in sixth grade. I don't think the reading test should be so hard that the children are throwing up just thinking about it. I think school needs to be fun again--at least to some degree. Let them learn through play. Let them explore more. Let them have more recess. And if we have to take an assessment, then let's not make a big deal out of it. Let's use it as a snapshot and have some other way to look at a child's profile for the year--like a portfolio, or on-going progress monitoring that can show us a rise and fall in specific key areas, ones we can assess quickly without kids even realizing they are taking a "test."  There are certainly some times in life when we need to take assessments, when we need to understand the importance of doing our best, but, in my opinion, we've taken it too far.  And judging by the amount of tears I've seen over state assessments throughout the years--from students, teachers, and parents, I don't think I'm the only one who has had enough.
I won't even go into all the testing problems the state has had this year, with the online site glitching and scores coming back wrong, etc.  But this does add to the "What are we measuring?" factor in my opinion.
Yes, I know, I high jacked the post again. You wanted to hear about Imma.  Well, she worked really hard the last two days.  She took lots of breaks and ate lots of Cheeze-Its.  Her teachers said she was happy when she finished, that she thought she had done well.  And I'm glad she thinks that she did well, because when those results come back in a few weeks, she'll never know the difference.  I am not planning on making a big deal out of it either way. If she failed, well, we will work on the areas I know she needs to strengthen up; if she passed, I'll be very proud of her--but she doesn't need to spend any more precious time in her third grade year thinking about the STAAR test. She can just forget it even exists.
Until next year, when she has to take three STAAR assessments--including writing.  She takes after her mother when it comes to writing. She loves it. Unfortunately, STAAR won't measure that either....

Five New Ways I'm Like My Grandma

My Grandma, Imogene Morrow, was an amazing person. Growing up, she was always one of my favorite people, and as a teenager, she was my best friend.  My grandma faced a lot of challenges in her life, probably the most significant being that she was born with two club feet. Throughout her entire life, walking was a struggle for her.  Now that I have spent the last few weeks in a wheelchair, I have a new found appreciation for her struggle.  I can't say how many times a day I realize I am now even more like here than I was before. Here are five specific times when I realize, "Wow! I've turned into my grandma!"
1) If I don't have to get up, I'd rather not.
My grandma avoided moving from one location to another as much as possible, not because she was lazy but because the sheer act of standing was painful--and scary. Now that I can't walk and have to use a wheelchair, walker, crutches, or hopping, I totally understand this even more than I did before.  It isn't that standing up necessarily hurts for me--most of the time it doesn't unless I  put weight on my bad knee--but the more upright I am, the better are my chances of reinjuring myself or falling. So, yes, sitting is good!
2) I've got stuff on me.
I bet you never thought about this before, but when you stand up any dust, debris, or other various pieces of whatever you've been doing fall to the ground. When you sit basically all day long, you tend to collect this stuff. I used to think it was odd that my grandma had little bits of thread and fabric all over her. Now I get it! I have pieces of paper and other school related items on me most of the time now because I don't stand up to give it a chance to fall off.
3) I've got stuff all around me.
My grandma used to surround herself with all of the stuff she might need during the day.  We used to tease her about it. But now, I get it! If there's not someone around to get me something that I need, that's a problem. It's better to just have all of the stuff that I need around me at all times within my reach. I may look a little bit like a pack-rat or a horder, but at this point, I really don't care.
4) Shoes and socks are not my friend.
Putting my shoes and socks on is almost impossible without help. I can't bend my right knee to put that shoe and sock on, I can't rest my left leg on my right knee to put that one on.  Some of my shoes I can get on with a lot of stretching and feet wiggling, but usually I need someone else to do it. My grandma struggled with this as well.
5) I am more appreciative of others.
My grandma was the kindest, most loving person I have ever met. Now that I have such a huge limitation on my own health and mobility, I think I appreciate people even more than I did before. Sure, I'm also a little jealous of all the bending, stretching, walking, running, skipping, hopping, and driving they can do. But I also really notice when someone goes out of their way to do something thoughtful, like hold a door for me or pick something up that I've dropped.
This has probably been the most challenging event in my life so far, but I've also learned a lot! And I am very thankful that, God willing, this is just a temporary inconvenience. Unlike so many others who find themselves unable to walk, I should be able to make a full recovery. Thank you for your continued prayers for my family and myself!