My Husband: A Work In Progress

After jumping in and out of trucks most of his life instead of using the steps like normal people do, my husband's knees started shutting down. I can't exactly remember when the pain first started. It just kind of started at a low level and escalated to unbearable over the years.

Finally when he couldn't stand the pain much longer, he consulted with an orthopedic doctor about his left knee in particular. The right knee was not a problem yet. The doctor turned him away saying he was too young for a knee replacement. Three years passed before another doctor was consulted. He agreed to the replacement procedure, which took place in January 2005.

These procedures are not a happy thing to do. Well, at least until you get to the pain pills anyway. (I hope I never need a replacement of any kind.) My husband was in the hospital three days, transferred to a rehab unit of another hospital where he spent the next four days, and finally released to me on the eighth day.

Until his stitches were out, there were nurses and physical therapists that visited our home for at least three weeks. When the in-home care ended, he would board the little metro bus at the end of our driveway, dressed in sweat pants and sweatshirt, new white sneakers, with his cane in hand, and off he went to another rehab facility. He looked so cute, as I relived the day when I sent my only child off to kindergarten so many years ago.

Meanwhile, his pain meds were adjusted and readjusted till he found a comfort zone, and believe me, some of those meds made for a mighty nice cocktail if you played your cards right. We never did, though. I was the keeper of the pills, and he didn't want any addictions, so we were very careful in the dispensing of them.

After thirteen weeks off the job, he was finally cleared to go back to work. Within less than six months, he had pain once again. It wasn't bothersome like before, just enough to let him know that something was there and it wasn't the way it should be. He ignored it, tried to shut it out thinking it would go away, and the years passed.

After 1-1/2 years of severe pain 24/7 and a few complaints at office visits to his surgeon (the one that kept telling him there was nothing wrong and everything was as it should be), he decided to see a different doctor who is now at the first place he went to and was turned away. We had come full circle. The only reason he went back to the first place is because he had heard so many good things about this new doctor.

And he turned out to be nothing less than a saint. After many MRIs, X-rays, CT scans, etc. at the first doctor, the new doctor ordered a bone scan (something the original doctor never offered or talked about). That bone scan gave us all an answer as to where the pain was coming from and why.

Finally! The results told us that the original replacement parts had worked themselves loose somehow. When his current doctor saw that he said, "No wonder you have pain." That was almost two months ago. A date was set for a replacement to the original knee replacement. That was done on the 26th of last month.

This time, my husband was in the hospital for four days and sprung on the fifth day with no rehab. I was prepared to pick him up on the fourth day, but they weren't ready to release him just yet.

(I will post more when racing news is at a lull, like today after that sleeper of a race we watched yesterday.)