ACL Update Month 5

It's really hard to believe it's been just over five months since I tore my ACL.  In some respects, it seems like a million years ago; in others, it seems like it just happened. I know the hardest part is behind me now, and I'm just perfecting my walk now so that I don't have such an awful limp. But it's still painful, it's still awkward, and I still get a lot of ridiculous comments from people--mostly those who don't even know me. I'll start there.
I don't know why people think it's okay to ask the following types of questions:
"What happened to you?"
"So, did you hurt yourself or...?"
"Don't you think you'd be better off in a wheelchair?"
I have been asked all three of these questions since I started walking with my cane. All by adults--not the sweet little cherubs I work with everyday. (Although they will often ask if I hurt my leg. And I expect them to. Children are curious.) What if I had been born this way? What if I had an incurable disease? What if there had been a horrible accident that took the lives of my family? Is that any of their business? As a matter-of-fact, why is it anyone's business why I "walk this way" any how? It's not! So... if you see someone with mobility issues, perhaps the best thing to say is just, "Hello," or "May I hold the door for you?" and leave it at that. I'm not in the business of rehashing the entire story to total strangers, and a simple, "I tore my ACL," is never sufficient. Most people don't even know what that is. So it's really better if people I don't know don't ask.
Now, I've met a lot of great people the last month or so because I have a new job. And when one of those people, someone I work with, someone I see everyday, asks what happened, or how I'm doing, or the often, "Now how did you do that again?" I absolutely don't mind.  Most of them know I tore my ACL last year before school ended because people talk, and that's fine. I certainly don't mind if they have follow up questions. But that's totally different than someone I don't know who I'm never going to see again asking, "What happened to you?" I got in a fight with your mama. You should see her!
Okay--rant over. Here's what I can do now that I couldn't do last time I updated this blog: I can go up and down flights of stairs with assistance from a spotter, a.k.a. my husband. I just found this out tonight. We removed the ramp from our front door a few weeks ago and I can go in and out of the house with minor issues. I have been using my cane if I need any help at all, and that's mostly at work because our halls are so long. I also use it first thing in the morning when my knee is pretty stiff. I can get in and out of the shower and the bathtub now. Basically, the only things that are still problematic are walking long distances (like a quarter of a mile would be far for me right now) and standing for too long.  This is because I'm still not distributing my weight evenly and it starts to hurt my left leg, my "uninvolved" leg, as it is known.
My extension hasn't gotten much better, despite my best efforts, but my bending is basically normal. My strength is also pretty good, though my quad is still a little weak. I think this is part of what is causing my limp, that and the bend in my knee. I saw my doctor last week and he is concerned about my limp. He took new X-rays and said the placement looks good, but he wants to know why I am limping. I have to see him again in six to eight weeks. He also said I will most likely have arthritis where my meniscus is missing. It already hurts there more than anywhere else, so I'm pretty sure there's no getting around that.

I'm bringing the cane back into style.

As for pain, it hurts in my shin a lot while I am walking and/or going up and down steps. My quad hurts sometimes, but most of my pain comes from the inside bottom part of my knee--where they removed a big chunk of my meniscus.  I'm not sure if that's why or if it is just a coincidence. If it rains, it hurts more than usual. It's not pleasant, but it is tolerable.
The last thing I wanted to address is just a quick explanation of what an ACL is and what it does. A sweet friend asked me one day if I tore the ACL in my knee or my foot, and it made me realize that some people probably don't know much about the ACL. I certainly didn't until this happened to me. With a popular football player and at least one Olympian recently tearing their ACLs, more people may know, but I really think the more people know, the more likely they are not to injure there ACLs in freak accidents like mine. The ACL is a ligament that runs through the middle of your knee. It goes from the upper-outside of your knee to the lower inside of your knee. There's another ligament that goes the opposite way, but it isn't as important. The ACL's job is to stabilize your knee and keep your bones working together.  It's a lot easier to tear your ACL than you might think, and they almost always tear completely when they tear. You can tear it just a little bit, but they don't mend well on their own because not a lot of blood gets to the area, so you will likely have to have it surgically repaired even if it's not a complete tear. I jumped off of bleachers onto uneven ground. I wasn't playing a sport or doing anything where my knee should have pivoted or twisted, which is often what causes a tear. It doesn't necessarily happen because of vigorous activity or anything too athletic.  When it did happen, I just assumed that my kneecap had popped out of place, because I had seen that happen to someone before.  I had no idea that there was something inside of my knee that could tear and cause such a huge problem for me for so long.  So, please, educate yourself about your knees--your ankles, your hips, whatever body parts you'd like to keep working. And be careful. I'm that mom who is always saying "be careful" about this and "be careful" about that. I guess I needed someone to shout to me to be careful!

ACL Four Month Update

It's been four months to the date since my little accident which left me with a torn ACL, meniscus, ligaments, and bone bruises. It's been a little over two months since my surgery.  So.... here's where we are!
I am in mobility transition. I am moving off of the walker, although I'm still supposed to use it at work, and transitioning not just to the cane but off of it completely, too.  That's right--today at therapy I was practicing walking on my own! It's not pretty at all. It's more like a step with my right foot and then a drag of my left up to meet it. But it's progress!

Yeah--not me....

The pain is pretty minimal these days. Most of the time, if I'm just sitting or laying in bed, it's probably just about a one. If I'm walking or driving, it sometimes gets up to a four. Today, since I was walking unassisted so much, it got up a little higher. And when I'm practicing stepping up onto something, it sometimes gets up to a five or a six.  It doesn't stay there though. I am having some swelling still, especially in my quad muscle above my knee.  I got a new brace a few weeks ago that is a lot less invasive, but when my leg is swollen, it rolls down, which is really annoying. So most of the time I don't wear it anymore.
I'm still using the bench to shower because I don't trust myself to step up and over into a slick shower, but I was able to get out of the bathtub by myself last week, which is definitely progress. I had tried a few weeks before that and needed help getting up, because it is essentially like sitting on the floor--a wet, slick, slippery floor with no grip. But this time I was able to get out by myself, which is even more progress.

Rub-a-dub-dub, I got out of the tub!

On Thursday, when I go back to therapy, we are going to start working on ramps. I need to be able to walk up and down a ramp to get in and out of my car at work since the curb is still too high for me to step up on. I can only step up about two inches right now and most steps are between six and eight inches (can you believe that?!?) The parking lot in front of my school is rocky and uneven, so I'm pretty concerned about walking on it without my walker. So for now, I'm supposed to use my walker at work and either my cane or nothing at home. It may take a while before I feel comfortable walking without my walker from my parking spot to the school.

Yes to the ramp--no to the wheelchair!

I can bend my knee almost completely. It's within one degree of my other knee. My extension is between 12 and 5 degrees most of the time.  Swelling keeps it from completely straightening, as well as my quad strength. I'm still working on it every day though. My knee is even more bent when I am standing up, unfortunately. I'm riding my recumbent bike a lot, and I think that will help.
The therapist I saw today said it's very possible I could be released from therapy by the end of September, which would be awesome. I know that it's going to be very difficult to keep going to therapy once school starts. It's already difficult since I'm back at work, even with the girls at daycare instead of school. I will hardly see them at all on nights when I have therapy once school starts.
That's where I am right now. It's not graceful. It's not pretty. But it's a form of walking. And I'm hopeful that I will continue to make progress at a good rate over the next two months so I can be dismissed.  (I will miss my therapists, though! If you need a therapist in the Dallas area, I highly recommend Baylor Wylie!)

ACL Recovery Six Weeks Post-Op

It's been a while since I updated my status.  It's been a slow but steady journey, and every day has its share of triumphs and defeats. I am still using the walker, but I am getting stronger, and I am hopeful to move off of it onto a cane within a month, though my therapist says it might be two. I am able to take my leg brace off now, though I sometimes still wear it, especially if I am walking on uneven surfaces.  I can step up with my right leg and then my left as long as it's not a very high step. I am still struggling with stepping up with my left leg first, which is frustrating.
I am able to ride a stationary bike now, which is good.  I can go all the way around--something I wasn't able to do last week.
My extension was at about a 12 last week, but I think it's better than that now because I've really been working on it this last week.  Not sure what my flexion is but it isn't as good as my left leg yet.
I was able to take a bath earlier this week, though getting out of the tub was a struggle. I am still using the bench to shower because it's just easier that way, though it's certainly not comfortable.
So... that's where I'm at six weeks after surgery, three months after the injury.  It's frustrating and often depressing, with glimmers of hope and occasional pride in mastery of a new skill.  The one thought I have to focus on is that I cannot compare myself to anyone else.  No one else has the exact set of circumstances that I do. When I see younger, more active people at therapy with the same injury walking around a week after surgery like it's nothing, it's hard to remember that they probably didn't spend almost two months in a wheelchair before the surgery.  Or maybe they didn't also tear their meniscus. Or... lots of other things that could be totally different.... For now, it's one day at a time, one step at a time.

Lucy is Six!

We have been celebrating Lucy's sixth birthday since last Friday when we took the girls to Great Wolf Lodge.  Lucy loves that place, and she was so excited to get a yellow bracelet and go down some of the bigger slides for the first time.

Getting ready to go swimming at the water park

Lucy with Violet the wolf

We didn't do a party this year (mostly because Mommy still can't walk) but she did get all of the presents she asked for--baby Lady (a.k.a. Lady McTramp) baby Stitch, baby Marie, and baby Dumbo--which she has been asking for since we left Disney World in March.

So many Disney babies!

Rapunzel cake!

She asked for a Rapunzel birthday cake and decided she wanted that at Great Wolf Lodge as well, even though it wasn't quite her birthday yet.
Last night--on her actual birthday--we went to a local pizza restaurant and she brought home a giant piece of chocolate cake, so we put a candle in that. Overall, I think she's had a pretty nice birthday!
This year, Lucy has learned so much! She's becoming quite the little reader and writer, even though I haven't been pushing her at all. I know she's smart enough to get it with her teachers' help, though of course I love to hear her read and we read together.  She loves to draw, like her big sis, and she also has a bit or a knack for math. She really loves to talk about "part, part, whole!" She had a great year in kindergarten with a wonderful teacher and lots of friends. She's still convinced that she will be a princess when she grows up and live in a castle. I hope, wherever she ends up, she always feels like a princess!

Blowing out the candles!

Lucy has always had a flare for the dramatic and that hasn't changed, though I think she had learned to control he temper a little bit this year. We are working on it! She loves to pretend, and listening to her play with her toys is quite entertaining.  I have always said that even though she looks a lot more like Brian, she is my mini me when it comes to personality! I love spending time with her, and this summer is going way to fast. I know I'm going to miss her when she starts first grade in just a few weeks....
Happy birthday, Lucy Kate Annabella!  Many, many, many more to come!

Happy Ninth Birthday, Imma-Jane!

In our lifetimes, we encounter thousands of people. Most of them have little influence on us.  Some leave a bit of an impression. Others help mold and shape us in ways we cannot even express in words. I was thirty years old when I met Imma-Jane. She was a small, wrinkly, red, screaming individual who really, really, really didn't want to leave her previous abode.  I knew from that moment--or possibly eight months before when I found out that she existed--my life would be forever changed.

She got them all with one blow!  Wish come true!!

What I didn't know at that time, holding her in my arms in the hospital, oblivious to the rest of the world, was how profoundly my life would change, the lessons she would teach me, the ways she would force me to grow and evolve and become a better person. I also didn't realize the effect she would have on everyone else she encountered.

We went to Medieval Times to celebrate. She had a lot of fun, despite her silly expression!

If you know Imma, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.  She's introspective. If she says something to you, it's important. She's a rule follower. If she believes something to be unjust, she will let you know. She's calculating; her brain is always thinking about shapes and objects and how they relate together. She's musical.  She can make anything an instrument and hear the beauty in any song. She's silly.  We were once told she'd never be able to understand jokes, but now her humor is often so clever sometimes it takes me a moment to get it. And in the same breath, potty humor is also hilarious.  She's independent.  Now that she is nine, she's pretty sure she's a grown up.  She's mine. She's my girl.  She always will be. And I'm so very lucky that God looked down one day and thought, "Yep, she can do it.  It won't be easy, but this is the one." (I hope and pray each day that I'm not disappointing Him.) I'm sure, however, He had the same conversation with Imma. "It won't be easy, but if anyone can handle having Amy for her mom, it's you."

She got an iPad mini for her birthday! 

With each passing year, Imma becomes more aware of her differences. So do other children. For the most part, we've been very lucky not to have bad experiences.  Most of the time, kids are kind. Teachers and other adults help facilitate that kindness. Now that she is nine, I begin to worry even more. We are approaching middle school, and that's tough for anyone. She will be going back to her old school this year, and I won't be with her. I pray that she is in a classroom with a teacher who will love her as much as her previous teachers have, who will guide her and direct her, while protecting her from the sharp words misunderstandings about autism also lead to, especially among young people who don't quite get it but know something is different. I pray that this year she rekindles the friendships she has had in the past with the sweet children who wrapped her in their arms for the first three years of her educational career. I pray that she is able to keep up with her friends at Merriman Park as well and that fourth grade isn't too difficult since she will be the new girl, sort of.   I pray that her program works for her, that she continues to make progress, and that she is able to find her own voice so that she can show others exactly what she knows and ask for help when needed.

Not exactly a girly cake, but she loves Star Wars!

I pray for more smiles than tears, more hugs than hurts, more love than hate or indifference.
And above all else, I am so very thankful that I am her mother. Happy birthday, Imma-Jane Isabella! May this be the best year yet!

Learning to Walk, One Step at a Time

Thursday, two days ago, was a pretty important day in my recovery; it was the day I took my first steps in about two months.  It wasn't unassisted, it wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't graceful, but it was progress--one foot in front of the other--and it was a turning point for me in a lot of ways.
I have had a new therapist every time I've gone in to PT. This time, I got the lead therapist.  She is extremely nice, patient, and religious, and I needed all three.  The first thing we talked about was that I now had permission to bear weight on my leg. So, she immediately wanted me to get up on the crutches and walk--and I couldn't. I was terrified.  We talked for a few minutes. She explained to me that most of the weight would be on the crutches, and that she was certain I could do it. I asked her a million questions. How did she know I could do it? Was she sure my knee would hold? What if it didn't? What if I lost my balance? What if I fall? What if it hurts too much?  She answered all of my questions and assured me that I could do it, my knee would hold, she would have ahold of me so I wouldn't fall, and that it wasn't going to hurt too much. Finally, she said, "Can I pray for you?" Well, of course I said yes, and so she did.  And that definitely helped calm my nerves.  But... I was still apprehensive.  The last time I had taken a step was nine days after the initial accident, and that had been when I had blown my meniscus. That day, I had been told I could bear weight to toleration as well, and it didn't turn out that way. I needed to know I wasn't going to undo two months of work--I'm tired of starting over.
So, she decided to get out the walker. Which was definitely better than the unsteady crutches.  Even standing with as much weight as possible on the walker, however, I was still horrified that I was going to hurt myself. I stood there for a long time, just looking at my feet, trying to remember how I had done this millions of times before. Do you stop and think about it before you take a step? Of course not; you just do it.  It's all habit and nature for the vast majority of adults. Standing there pushing down on that walker, a belt around me, my calm therapist's reassuring voice in my ear, I fixed my eyes on my neon pink tennis shoes and willed my left foot to take a leap of fate and moved forward. It wouldn't budge....
Then she said, "It's just like Peter. What gave him the courage to step out on that water?  Jesus did. He's right here with you now, and He's telling you to have faith--you can do it. You will do it."
With that thought in my mind, I took a deep breath, and I picked up my foot.  And I ended up hopping. The first step wasn't really a step--but it was progress.  After that, though, I took one more step and then another and another. I walked about ten feet across the room and sat down in a chair where she directed me. It was probably one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life--but I had done it. I had started the journey.

This really spoke to me today.  We may never know why we were required to fall before we could fly. Sometimes we just have to believe that His reasons are far greater than anything we can understand.

That session, she gave me a lot of weight bearing exercises to practice at home. I am also supposed to work on my stretches. She told me to practice walking three times a day, not very far, and only with my husband holding on to a belt around me.  I have walked a few times in the last couple of days, and I will tell you, every step is still terrifying. But I am learning to push past the fear, a little at a time. I'm learning to trust my body, to trust myself, and to have faith that the same person who allowed Peter to walk on water has His arms around me as well.
I'm still not able to completely straighten or bend my knee, but I am working on it each day, continuing to go through all of the exercises I've been given. It is difficult--it is mundane. It is sometimes painful, and it is always challenging.  There is nothing easy about any of this. And I can admit there have been times when I have felt like I am never going to walk again, that I can't do this anymore. I think this is pretty common; from what I have read from other people who have suffered this injury (or any injury, honestly) it is natural to feel pretty down at times.  Whenever I start to feel that way, I have to reach out to my friends and family. I'm lucky that so many people have rallied around me and shared words of encouragement just when I have needed them.
I understand my predicament could be a lot worse. I know this isn't cancer. It isn't losing a limb or being permanently disfigured or even permanently disabled.  I don't pretend that my journey is any more difficult or challenging than anyone else's, and I know so many people who have overcome so much more. But this has certainly been a struggle for me.  I have faith that, wherever I stand at the end of this journey, I will be standing, and that I will have gotten there through thousands, if not millions, of little steps, and hops, and jumps, and one giant leap of faith.

ACL Reconstruction Post-Op Days 8-10

Day 8 was pretty uneventful--it was basically a repeat of day 6 and 7. Things got a little better in the pain department, but I was still around a 3 or a 4 most of the time, with tiny spikes to 7.  Day 9, however, was a game changer.  Day 9 was the day I took control back over the situation and was reminded that I am the only one who can "fix" me.
I went to the physical therapist for the first time on Friday, which was Day 9. It was an early appointment and I took my medicine about an hour before it was scheduled to start so that if they decided to torture me, at least I'd have something to take the edge off. This is the first time since the accident that,when they've called my name at an appointment,  I've gone back on my own--Brian stayed in the waiting room. It was a little unsettling, but I knew this was something I had to do by myself.
I really liked the therapist right off the bat. He was very easy to talk to, seemed genuinely concerned about my injury, and definitely gave me the impression that we were going to get me all fixed up in no time. But after I finished telling him what had happened, and he'd asked me about my goals, etc., he said something that really resonated with me. He said, "I can't fix you--only you can fix you." I've known this all along, I guess. But hearing him say it really reminded me that whether or not I ever walk again is really up to me. I can go through the motions, or I can choose to ignore them altogether, and either way I end up in a wheelchair for several more weeks, months, years. Or I can give this everything I've got and get back to normal as quickly as humanly possible. Of course, I need guidance from the therapists, but at the end of the day, the results are all up to me.
I was there for about an hour.  We did measurements and I found out that my leg will currently extend 31 degrees. My left leg, the good one, extends to -5. He explained that I will need to get my right leg even with my left so that I can walk without a limp, etc. He also told me how far it was bending, but I don't remember what he said. I am definitely more concerned with extension at this point.
He showed me six different exercises that I will have to do several times a day. They are all designed to stretch out the ligaments and muscles in my leg and get it to extend and bend the way that it is supposed to. The worst one, by far, is the slow stretch, where I extend my leg as far as I can and then leave it that way for up to fifteen minutes at a time.   So, for me at this point, this would be taking it out 31 degrees, and keeping it stretched as long as I can.  He said I could start out at two minutes, but I needed to build up to 15.  This is one of those slow burn, no pain no gain type of exercises. Sounds simple enough, but it is pretty painful. He told me if it hurt above a four to stop, and if it really starts hurting I suppose I will, but a sustained pain at a four that you know you can relieve by changing position is almost as bad as a sharp seven that goes away pretty quickly.
I really liked my therapist, and I felt like he had a great plan in place. Unfortunately, at the end of the session he told me he wasn't going to be working at that location anymore. That was kind of disappointing, but I'm sure they have other therapists that are just as good and that will help me make quick progress.

My daily exercises!

I go back on Tuesday, which will be post-op Day 13. By then, my goal is to have my extension to 20 degrees. That seems like a big jump to me, but I'm ready for the challenge.
My next stop on Day 9 was back at the ortho's office.  There's a nurse there who is very nice and she always stops to speak to me even when I'm not her patient. I was really happy that she was the one to remove the tape from my wounds!  I thought a man would probably just come in and pull it all off, but of course she didn't. (Most of the other nurses in the office are men, including the guy who insisted I fully straighten my leg last time, even though I can't.)  She cleaned it off with alcohol and the tape all came off pretty well. It actually looks a lot better, although it's still a bit misshapen and there will likely be some scarring.
My doctor checked it, forced me to fully extend it, even when I told him the PT said I couldn't, and checked how far I could bend it. Then, he showed me some pictures from the surgery. Apparently, I had completely severed my ACL from my femur. There was just a scraggly little stump left, like the roots of a weed holding on for dear life. He showed me pictures of my new ACL, too.  It looked very sturdy and fully capable of doing its job!
For some reason, I think the doc was under the impression he had already given me a brace with an adjustable locking mechanism. I explained that I haven't had one. He asked a similar question at the hospital, so I think he that we had done this already. Well, I got one yesterday and got it fitted. They locked it in at 20 degrees. I was confused and explained that my extension was only 31 and they said okay. I don't know if these two things are related--I thought they would be--but when they put it on, it wasn't uncomfortable (I mean, not anymore than any brace would be) so I guess it doesn't matter that I'm at a 31 and it's at a 20.  I like it--it reminds me a bit of Luke Skywalker's arm for some reason.  I hope I don't have to wear it for long, but I appreciate the fact that it has a lot of support for my knee, which should be helpful once I can start walking again. Speaking of, he told me to wait until next Wednesday, two weeks from the operation, before I start putting any weight at all on it and then to start off with 20 to 30 pounds tops. We are going to have to get that number up pretty quickly for me to be walking on it anytime soon....
Today is Day 10, and I started my exercise full throttle today. Sure, I went through as many as I could yesterday afternoon, but I didn't really have some of the props I needed, and I didn't have time in the day to do all of the reps.  Today, I have all day, and I'm almost done with them, though there are some I'm planning on going back and re-visiting.
As anticipated, that slow stretch has been a killer. The first time, I couldn't hold it for more than two minutes. I have now worked my way up to 10 minutes, but I don't think I can do 15 yet. I have to have at least an hour in with this stretch each day, which doesn't sound like a lot, but I can't tell you how many times I haven't been able to fit an hour long workout into my day (or have thought I couldn't anyway) which tells me it's a bigger chunk of time than it sounds.  Still, it's the most important thing I can do to help myself get better, so I'll definitely get that hour in each day. For now, I don't have a lot of other things to do anyway....
I do think I am making progress. Even right now, my leg is pretty straight. I usually keep it as bent as possible, but I'm just naturally keeping it straight with one pillow under it right now, and I think that tells me it isn't as insistent that it has to be bent as it has been in the past.
I will go to PT twice a week for the next two months, and then we will see where we are. They said the first two months are the most critical to my recovery.  The doctor still thinks it is possible that I could be walking (assisted) in another two weeks. I hope that I can walk by the beginning of July when I go back to see him.
So... that's where I'm at on my journey right now. It's been two months and two days since the incident. My pain is getting better each day, my leg is starting to cooperate a little more, and I really feel like I have more control over this than I have in a long time.
If you have questions, or something you would like to share, please feel free to leave a comment!

ACL Reconstruction Post-Op Day 7

I slept pretty well last night, once I finally fell asleep. I woke up a few times, but I slept from about 12:00 midnight until 6:00 AM. Then, after my husband and kids left, I fell back to sleep for another four hours.  That's probably the most sleep I've gotten since the surgery and maybe since the accident.
My pain was very manageable this morning. Until about 3:00 this afternoon, I wasn't in much pain at all. I'm not sure what happened at that point, but that was three hours ago, and since then, it's been pretty bad. Maybe a six on a scale of one to ten. That's about the worse it's been in the last three or four days. I took my meds about thirty minutes ago, and that's helping, but I am disappointed that the pain didn't stay mild all day. I had hopes that today would be the day I'd turn a corner and be on the downhill slide.
I'm wondering if the refill on my hydrocodone has anything to do with it. It's the same prescription, according to the bottle, but I got it filled at a different pharmacy. I doubt that is it, but it's the only thing I've done differently. Of course, I realize that pain ebbs and flows, and it could be any number of things that have caused my rough afternoon.
Something else interesting about my refill is that this bottle says to take 1-2 tablets every 6-8 hours whereas my original prescription says 1/2 to 1 pill every 6 hours.  If I had known I could take two pills right after surgery, I definitely would have been doing that. I don't need that now, but I did last week. I have no idea why the directions are different. I'm sticking with the original plan--one pill every six hours with a Tramadol about halfway through if needed. And ice. Ice has been my life saver. When the ice melts in the middle of the night or I run out before my husband gets a chance to fill it, I can definitely tell the difference.
I am worried about straightening my leg. I can't do it, and I am too scared to really work on that right now without specific instructions. I'm afraid they will make me do it on Friday at Physical Therapy and that it will hurt like a son of a biscuit.  I'm also concerned that they might make me straighten it at the doctor that day because the nurse made me do it last week--as in he picked up my leg and straightened it, and even when I told him it was excruciating, he kept it straight anyway so he could put my immobilizer on.
I decided to take my ace bandage off while I'm sitting around this afternoon. I know the doctor said I could take it off last week, but I was a little scared to leave it off, especially with two little girls. But it's off now, and that's a lot more comfortable. I really hate the feeling of having something bunched up behind my knee, so I was constantly straightening it, and it was constantly scrunching up again.

Not planning on using this too much anymore.

Tomorrow should be another non-eventful day of catching up on DVRed shows. I'm sad that I won't be with the girls at school on their last days of kindergarten and third grade. I'm sad that I won't get to tell the student and staff at our school goodbye. I am happy that the girls will be here next week though. I've really been missing them these last few weeks. I am used to spending a lot of time with them, and they've been coming home from school and playing or going upstairs, a place I vaguely remember.... I think we are all ready for summer vacation to officially begin, and I would love to think I might be walking again by the end of the month.
If you are undergoing ACL surgery and you have any questions, please feel free to comment or email me.

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....