Tomorrow will mark two months of the frame being cheerfully attached to my leg. Because I haven't been x-rayed in about a month, I can't say for certain how much longer I should expect to have it on (the current estimate is somewhere between mid-May and June, once my school schedule has been taken into account). Hopefully the bones are growing back well. They'd better be.
As anybody who has ever read or seen the movie adaptation of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets knows, regrowing bone is not the most fun of activities. Seeing as there are no magical potions I can take to make this an overnight process, it is also not particularly dramatic. I wear the frame and sit in my chair, with occasional laps, taken at a walk (running with the frame is not a recommended activity), around the ground floor of the house to break up the monotony.
I also, it seems, get sick a lot.
Normally, I'm hardly ever sick, missing perhaps a day or two per school year because of illness. In the last two months, I've spent six days in the hospital (mostly my fault, since I elected my way into this procedure), spent many days at home not quite mobile enough for academic pursuit, then spent more days at home too tired for academic pursuit, and now I have a head cold. The current hypothesis goes something along the lines of I'm regrowing bone, which takes energy, which means that I'm more susceptible to viruses, bacteria and the like.
This does not make me particularly happy.
I've gone through impressive amounts of Kleenex, evicting a stunning amount of mucus from my nose. I've coughed and, on one rather frightening occasion, almost fainted. Luckily I managed to hold onto a wall until I regained balance and continued on with my lap before realizing that I probably shouldn't be up and about, calling my parents to inform them of my predicament, and being ordered to return to the chair, where I spent the next solid chunk of time wanting to go for another lap. The only vaguely positive thing from the head cold is, since I'm supposed to be drinking lots of fluids, I get an excuse to enjoy some ginger ale.
Beyond the sickness, which, to be fair, could be more reflective of the general health of Minnesotans in winter, the frame has manifested itself in my life mostly by being a general nuisance. Two months in and I still have about zero spatial awareness regarding the Taylor Spatial Frame. I find it stunning that the house has not suffered serious damage from the many, many, many times I've clonked the frame into the woodwork. I've also learned the hard way that there are many spaces which were not designed for frames. Buses, for instance—getting down the central aisle requires a sort of shuffle as the aisle isn't wide enough for me to walk through normally with the device attached. Also, I have to take up an entire bench all on my own because the frame does not fit in the space between the seat and the back of the bench in front.
The other aggravating part of the whole frame experience is the pin sites. Now, for the most part the pin sites aren't bad. I can't really notice them and, for the most part, they don't notice me. That said, one of the piano wire pins (as opposed to the 6 mm halfpins) does not approve when my leg, say, goes from being held straight to a bent position or vice versa, which has proven to be aggravating. Isn't enough that I need to be careful what I do with the leg for fear of breaking bones?
Regardless. Despite my current sour mood (mostly brought on by the fact that I missed school today with my head cold—mercifully, I'm improving—resulting in my having tragic amounts of work to make up), I'm making progress.
Just four or so months to go. One third of the way there.
This had better be worth it.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Knitting>>>Blogging
Looking at the most recent posts on this blog, I've been absent for a bit. Fear not, though—I really haven't been doing anything. Not doing anything here translating to "sitting in the corner chair with my lap being crushed by my afghan as, for no good reason at all, I obsessively try to finish it within a reasonable amount of time." The good news is that the blanket actually does give me a sense of purpose, even if that purpose is creating new stripes on a blanket which will probably never leave the confines of the house. Another piece of good news is that I'm getting quicker and more fluid with my knitting. Whereas before my stitch was tight to the point of worry, today it is reasonably loose.
Yet another piece of good news? I am not getting bored of the blanket, even though the yarn is neither shiny nor anywhere close to new and costs a good deal less than a small car.
I have, however, gotten very bored of my frame, which is shiny, only six weeks old and costs about as much as a small car.
Most of my boredom comes form the fact that the frame limits my ability to move around. I can walk, yes, but I'm slower than everybody else around me. I still don't feel comfortable standing up for a long time. I'm still suspicious of being outside in the Minnesota winter cold for any stretch of time, mostly because I have metal pins sticking through my bones. The walker has yet to leave my side at school. The elevator remains slow beyond belief, though at least with familiarity I've gotten less scared of it (at some point I need to write up a more detailed account of my ability to access school with the wheelchair, but for now, I've got a blanket to knit). Even worse, I'm not entirely sure I want to get the frame off now, mostly because I have been reassured that after the noninvasive ten minute procedure to remove the thing my knee will be outfitted with a soft cast to limit my mobility even more. Granted, the soft cast will be in place so I don't break the pin-weakened bones in my lower leg post-frame. But still…
At my last appointment with Dr. Sundberg, my parents were commenting that this blog's purpose of talking about day-to-day existence with a Taylor Spatial Frame has been slightly undermined by my not experiencing any pain. I agree with this point. I haven't had any problems with pain. None of my pin sites has become infected.
But I can say for certain that if you're getting one of these things, find an easy-to-do activity which can take your mind off the boredom, off the lack of mobility, off the fact that you've got $20,000 worth of shiny metal poking out of your leg and through the bone.
Initially, I thought I'd take my quality couch and chair time and convert that into writing a book. I did not anticipate feeling this tired and drained. Which is, of course, where the knitting comes in. It is a simple repetitive motion that requires no energy and no thought. Plus, with proper color choice you get the fun and exciting experience of having bright colors draping over your lap and pooling onto the floor.
Needless to say, I've had lots of time to knit on my blanket. It should be done this weekend. And then I'll be moving on to another project, such as perhaps keeping this blog up to date.
Yet another piece of good news? I am not getting bored of the blanket, even though the yarn is neither shiny nor anywhere close to new and costs a good deal less than a small car.
I have, however, gotten very bored of my frame, which is shiny, only six weeks old and costs about as much as a small car.
Most of my boredom comes form the fact that the frame limits my ability to move around. I can walk, yes, but I'm slower than everybody else around me. I still don't feel comfortable standing up for a long time. I'm still suspicious of being outside in the Minnesota winter cold for any stretch of time, mostly because I have metal pins sticking through my bones. The walker has yet to leave my side at school. The elevator remains slow beyond belief, though at least with familiarity I've gotten less scared of it (at some point I need to write up a more detailed account of my ability to access school with the wheelchair, but for now, I've got a blanket to knit). Even worse, I'm not entirely sure I want to get the frame off now, mostly because I have been reassured that after the noninvasive ten minute procedure to remove the thing my knee will be outfitted with a soft cast to limit my mobility even more. Granted, the soft cast will be in place so I don't break the pin-weakened bones in my lower leg post-frame. But still…
At my last appointment with Dr. Sundberg, my parents were commenting that this blog's purpose of talking about day-to-day existence with a Taylor Spatial Frame has been slightly undermined by my not experiencing any pain. I agree with this point. I haven't had any problems with pain. None of my pin sites has become infected.
But I can say for certain that if you're getting one of these things, find an easy-to-do activity which can take your mind off the boredom, off the lack of mobility, off the fact that you've got $20,000 worth of shiny metal poking out of your leg and through the bone.
Initially, I thought I'd take my quality couch and chair time and convert that into writing a book. I did not anticipate feeling this tired and drained. Which is, of course, where the knitting comes in. It is a simple repetitive motion that requires no energy and no thought. Plus, with proper color choice you get the fun and exciting experience of having bright colors draping over your lap and pooling onto the floor.
Needless to say, I've had lots of time to knit on my blanket. It should be done this weekend. And then I'll be moving on to another project, such as perhaps keeping this blog up to date.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Investments
In recovery terms, while I'm making progress, things remain disappointingly uninteresting (or, if you'd like, gratifyingly uninteresting—while nothing much has happened, at least nothing disastrous has occurred). The blister-turned-callus has started and almost finished the process of peeling off my foot, which is really nice. After more than a month of being distractedly not normal, my foot, as well as my ability to walk around and traverse stairs, is settling back into a more everyday groove. Also, at school today, I gave the frame some breathing time in the open air, removed the covering from one of my incisions, which looks fantastic, realized that maybe my leg would do better with more air. This was, of course, before I came home to have a dog trying to lick my pin sites, which was a nerve-racking experience. You never know what the dogs have been eating. In short, another post about my recovery wouldn't be too interesting.
What is more interesting is my hospital bill, which arrived today. Six days and a frame later, my medical bills reached a mere $73,644.47. This does not include Dr. Sundberg's fees. It does, however, include the frame, which cost a paltry $20,588.
Before I continue with this post, that number is one I can hardly get my head around. I'm eighteen, after all, and I haven't held a job or really had to pay for anything—yet. At some point I'll have a better conception what twenty-plus thousand dollars pay for, but not yet. Now, all I see is a really huge number which allows me to place some sort of numerical value on the friend presently attached to (and in) my leg.
It seems like, excluding other fees (operating room: $13,553), room and board (a lot), the price of a straight leg is about the price of a small car. Considering the benefits of a straighter leg, that number, while enormous, actually doesn't sound too bad. Remember, because of this surgery, I'm estimated to have twenty to thirty fewer years in which I'll be worrying about arthritis. Because of this surgery, I could be allowed to run again. Because of this surgery, the weight-bearing axis in the leg has shifted to a normal position and I believe I will no longer be knock-kneed. Because of this surgery, I can lead a more active lifestyle without worrying as much about consequences well down the road.
In all, those benefits sound better than a small car. This isn't a knock against small cars—I'm fine with cars, even if they are more boring than trains, boats, planes or any other mode of transportation. But those benefits are also better than a really expensive computer or a lot ("a lot" here being around $20,588 worth) of new furniture or…whatever else you can buy with that kind of money.
With that said, I'm still really happy I've got health insurance. Between health insurance and what the bill lists as "provider responsibility," all but $23.16 is being covered by somebody outside my family. After all, while I might think a Taylor Spatial Frame is a really good investment, I'd still feel really guilty if the entire medical bill came back to my family.
The numbers are, again enormous (not a lot of time in the recovery room: $2,507.50). But in the long run, I think the investment was probably worth it. And not just the money—I'm counting the couch time, the time in the back with no company but the snoring dog, the time in the wheelchair, the struggles with the walker, the time spent downstairs.
In case you couldn't tell, I'm really quite glad I had this procedure.
What is more interesting is my hospital bill, which arrived today. Six days and a frame later, my medical bills reached a mere $73,644.47. This does not include Dr. Sundberg's fees. It does, however, include the frame, which cost a paltry $20,588.
Before I continue with this post, that number is one I can hardly get my head around. I'm eighteen, after all, and I haven't held a job or really had to pay for anything—yet. At some point I'll have a better conception what twenty-plus thousand dollars pay for, but not yet. Now, all I see is a really huge number which allows me to place some sort of numerical value on the friend presently attached to (and in) my leg.
It seems like, excluding other fees (operating room: $13,553), room and board (a lot), the price of a straight leg is about the price of a small car. Considering the benefits of a straighter leg, that number, while enormous, actually doesn't sound too bad. Remember, because of this surgery, I'm estimated to have twenty to thirty fewer years in which I'll be worrying about arthritis. Because of this surgery, I could be allowed to run again. Because of this surgery, the weight-bearing axis in the leg has shifted to a normal position and I believe I will no longer be knock-kneed. Because of this surgery, I can lead a more active lifestyle without worrying as much about consequences well down the road.
In all, those benefits sound better than a small car. This isn't a knock against small cars—I'm fine with cars, even if they are more boring than trains, boats, planes or any other mode of transportation. But those benefits are also better than a really expensive computer or a lot ("a lot" here being around $20,588 worth) of new furniture or…whatever else you can buy with that kind of money.
With that said, I'm still really happy I've got health insurance. Between health insurance and what the bill lists as "provider responsibility," all but $23.16 is being covered by somebody outside my family. After all, while I might think a Taylor Spatial Frame is a really good investment, I'd still feel really guilty if the entire medical bill came back to my family.
The numbers are, again enormous (not a lot of time in the recovery room: $2,507.50). But in the long run, I think the investment was probably worth it. And not just the money—I'm counting the couch time, the time in the back with no company but the snoring dog, the time in the wheelchair, the struggles with the walker, the time spent downstairs.
In case you couldn't tell, I'm really quite glad I had this procedure.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Moving Forward
When I do not have a frame wrapped around my leg, one of my normal family duties is feeding the cat, a not-terribly-complex process involving opening the fridge, removing half a can of cat food, mixing that half can of cat food with water, taking water-food mixture up the stairs to the cat and being yowled at while His Hungriness awaits his royal feast. When wearing a frame and dealing with a walker, activities such as opening the fridge and going up stairs are not, shall we say, the easiest. They are also not the most mother-approved of activities, especially considering that when sounds of cabinets opening and closing come from general areas of the house where I happen to be lurking, my mother calls out to make sure I'm okay.
Today I fed the cat. On my own power. Without tripping, falling and dying. I felt quite good about myself.
Approximately two minutes after I returned downstairs, he started yowling again to inform me that he hadn't gotten enough food. Then again, this is a cat who would swell up to a beyond-spherical shape if given the opportunity to eat as much food as he wanted.
Now, moving beyond the fact that I managed to feed the cat, there are a couple of major notes about today and the progress I've been making in the rather recent past. First off, for a variety of reasons (being tired, being sick, doctor's appointment), today was the first full Monday's worth of school I made in the 2013 calendar year. Which was exciting.
Perhaps more exciting: I have abandoned the walker at home. A couple weeks ago the wheelchair was regulated to school use only. Over the weekend I realized that most of my walker usage at home was dragging the thing behind me, at which point I decided that I probably wasn't getting a good deal of use out of the walker. So I just ignored it. I still need to use it as a hallway-clearing device at school so the crowds do not bump against the frame, but still—progress is progress.
Also, partially as a result of my successful cat-feeding and stair navigation, I am now more or less cleared to head on back upstairs to my normal bedroom. I'm not sure when exactly I'd make such a move. All I know is it should be soon. Slowly but surely, I'm returning to normal. Today, my main evening chore returned to me. Within the week, my main living space should return as well.
In another interesting twist, my mother has decided to help me repurpose the time I spend hanging out in the back not stressing out the leg. Years ago I started knitting an afghan with stripes of many colors. At some point I gave up on it. My mother knit a stripe and then stopped. She found it again and handed it back to me. The afghan has now become my official recovery project—perhaps a little bit late, but better late than never.
And in the end, I should have a warm, nice-looking blanket to call my own. Always a plus.
Today I fed the cat. On my own power. Without tripping, falling and dying. I felt quite good about myself.
Approximately two minutes after I returned downstairs, he started yowling again to inform me that he hadn't gotten enough food. Then again, this is a cat who would swell up to a beyond-spherical shape if given the opportunity to eat as much food as he wanted.
Now, moving beyond the fact that I managed to feed the cat, there are a couple of major notes about today and the progress I've been making in the rather recent past. First off, for a variety of reasons (being tired, being sick, doctor's appointment), today was the first full Monday's worth of school I made in the 2013 calendar year. Which was exciting.
Perhaps more exciting: I have abandoned the walker at home. A couple weeks ago the wheelchair was regulated to school use only. Over the weekend I realized that most of my walker usage at home was dragging the thing behind me, at which point I decided that I probably wasn't getting a good deal of use out of the walker. So I just ignored it. I still need to use it as a hallway-clearing device at school so the crowds do not bump against the frame, but still—progress is progress.
Also, partially as a result of my successful cat-feeding and stair navigation, I am now more or less cleared to head on back upstairs to my normal bedroom. I'm not sure when exactly I'd make such a move. All I know is it should be soon. Slowly but surely, I'm returning to normal. Today, my main evening chore returned to me. Within the week, my main living space should return as well.
In another interesting twist, my mother has decided to help me repurpose the time I spend hanging out in the back not stressing out the leg. Years ago I started knitting an afghan with stripes of many colors. At some point I gave up on it. My mother knit a stripe and then stopped. She found it again and handed it back to me. The afghan has now become my official recovery project—perhaps a little bit late, but better late than never.
And in the end, I should have a warm, nice-looking blanket to call my own. Always a plus.
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