05/04/2022
Lynn Murphy Mark
Out of joint
One of the elderly ladies in my congregation is having knee replacement surgery in about half an hour. She is a very determined woman and I won’t be surprised to see her in church on Sunday. Another friend recently had the procedure done and she is walking without a hint of a limp.
Back in 2014 when school was out for the Summer in Santa Fe, I had my turn. I found a doctor who would do both knees at the same time, since both of mine were bone on bone and my right foot was awkwardly turned outward. He agreed to do both only if I would agree to go to rehab for the beginning of a recovery. That seemed reasonable to me, considering that I lived in a two story house with 16 steps up to the bedroom.
People thought I was nuts for having bilateral knee replacement surgery. My philosophy was that I would submit to the surgery knowing that, once done, I wouldn’t have to go back at a later date and go through it all again. I have no regrets because, had I been able to imagine the pain of recovery beforehand, I might not have returned for the second surgery. When my doctor said I was doing better than people who had only had one knee done I replied that it was because I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Recovery was a little brutal for a little while. I had to have a second surgery on my right knee because I got up from a low chair and in the process my right kneecap popped out of place. That didn’t help my recuperation time.
As for the pain, I have always said that since experiencing natural childbirth all pain is relative. In a few days I quit taking the opioid narcotic and relied on Tylenol alone. A little over a month later I fell into a deep depression. I had been told that depression was sometimes an after effect of surgery, and it certainly was in my case. Only this episode lasted over a year and it felt as bad as my first episode in the 1980’s. I did not expect mental pain to be a part of recovery.
I think about which is worse, the knee pain or the soul pain. Actually, the answer is psychic pain, hands down. It robs me of any kind of joy or the ability to laugh at the absurd. The emotional fatigue is stunning in its intensity. Each day is an endless battle getting through the hours. Deep sleep is a luxury not available to me. My normal optimism is missing in action. I hate that part especially. Anxiety usually accompanies depression for me. My heart seems to beat in my throat a lot of the time. I count the hours until I can try to go to sleep and get away from it all.
I don’t really know what brought all of this up for today’s blog. My elderly friend is supposedly in surgery at this time and I am praying that all goes well for her. I pray that her recovery is not tainted by any psychological distress. I’m not sure who is available to help her at home. But I know that our minister will be sending a message out to us prayer chaplains so that we can collectively send our spiritual “get well soon” messages. Like I said, I think she will be in church on Sunday, all four foot eight of her. She’s a brave one!