The past week has been a blur between a trip downstate, an emergency follow-up vet visit for Katika, knee surgery for me, and several bad days on Vicodin and crutches when I could not touch my toe to the ground. Even lying in bed with my leg elevated and my knee packed with ice found me whimpering in the long night hours. I normally have a fairly high pain threshold so all this took me by surprise.
However this morning I’m much better. I’ve switched to ibuprofen, my head is clearer, my knee has settled from a raging fire to a manageable ache, and I’m looking at my list of projects and wondering what I can accomplish in my sore and gimpy state.
Today it will probably be family paperwork. (Medical bills, anyone?) Tomorrow when I start physical therapy, I will ask what is a safe level of outdoor activity.
I originally injured my knee tripping and falling out of the pig pen last August. (“Gosh, that’s one you don’t hear every day!” said the nurse, writing in my chart.) After the surgery the doctor told me he had cut out a lateral meniscus tear and also removed a damaged plica — which had not shown up on the MRI and I had never heard of.
The past nine months of pain have taught me how completely my little farm depends on my ability to walk and work on my feet. Though between recent life twists and now surgery I am very behind in all my chores, I will definitely want to follow all instructions for recovery.