Unlike the other posts on here from when I've had appointments with Dr. Sundberg, this post will have no photos of x-rays. Unfortunately, I was not thinking particularly straight during the appointment, which was last Wednesday, the 13th. My mother drove me there from school through a route that, as per her traffic preferences, included no highways. No highways was fine. Less fine was the fact that the route Google sent us through involved a one-way street system that was actually little loops through an industrial park and it was all horribly confusing and… Basically, by the time we arrived we were both rather frazzled and concerned we wouldn't be able to make it back home (we were). So, long story short, no x-ray photos.
With that said, there were x-rays. It seems like with each visit, as I grow progressively comfortable on my feet without the walker, the x-rays get easier, except for when an x-ray involves laying the frame on a table. The frame is round and likes to roll, so the frame needs help to stay still for the x-ray. Also, the more appointments I go to, the fewer x-rays they require. Previous appointments have involved standing x-rays but this last one only required x-rays which were taken while I was laying down on a table.
First off, the frame is not ready to come off yet. The site of the osteotomy (where they took a chunk of bone out so the straightening could begin) is still very visible, though apparently progress has been made. At least, Dr. Sundberg was talking about progress, though I couldn't really see anything.
He was also talking about when the frame will come off. As in, he takes one look at the x-ray and asks me when I'd like to have it off.
I took one look at the x-ray and became quite worried that the friend impaling my leg would keep on impaling through August.
But, apparently, I'm on the homeward stretch. I've been scheduled for a follow-up April 19th, at which point more x-rays will be taken. Then (hopefully) the appointment will be made to remove this thing—I'm targeting on or around May 15th, with all my school commitments. By that point, I will have had the frame on for twenty weeks (today is a day past twelve weeks…it really has been a while, hasn't it?).
As far as the removal goes, I'll need to be put to sleep, though I've been assured that it isn't a heavy sleep—just a blast from the gas mask ought to be enough (let me pause here to quickly note that the smell of anesthesia from the gas mask is number one on my list of traumatizing smells; number two is the smell of hospital saline, courtesy of the six day stay the frame earned me just about three months ago). The tips of the pins, from what Dr. Sundberg said, are coated in chemicals which are designed to promote bone growth. This has a number of positive outcomes, none of which involve the act of ultimately removing the frame. Apparently the pins need to be given a nice twist to come on out. Hence, the anesthesia. Still, the procedure should last about ten minutes. From what I gleaned last week, frames are often removed on Friday so the ex-frame wearer can return to their normal life on Monday, no longer burdened with pounds of leg-happy metal.
After a tedious twelve weeks with way too much time spent in the company of the Recovery Couch and the Recovery Chair, it's freeing to know that an end is, at long last, in sight.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Things That Fit Over the Frame
One of the unfortunate truths about the Taylor Spatial Frame is that clothing and frames really don't get along too well. Shirts—fine. Hats and gloves and scarves and things of that nature (in short, Minnesota necessities)—fine. Socks and shoes—fine.
Pants (and underwear and shorts and anything which has to fit over the leg)—less fine.
So. The point of this post will be to address my general solutions to the problem of getting things to fit over the frame. Unfortunately, none of the situations are really flawless. Also, none of them do anything to deal with the fact that a Taylor Spatial Frame is an impressively bulky object with a tendency to get in the way of everything. Today during lunch it was cheerfully bumping up against my mother, who was less than happy, considering that it's a rather solid metal object. Unfortunately, I really don't have much frame-related sensation and couldn't tell what it was up to…
Which is entirely beside the point, of course, but still worth noting.
Now, how I've* been dealing with the problem of getting clothing to cooperate with the frame…
Underwear
Solution 1: Don't wear.
Why it works: Nothing goes over the frame, so you neatly sidestep the problem.
The problems: See: above.
Solution 2: Large boxers made from knit fabric with stretchy waistband.
Where to find: These can be found at more or less any big department store, from what I know (which is very little); mine came from Target. While the above description makes it sound like you won't be able to find suitable underwear from a brand name, fear not.
Why it works: With enough stretchiness, the things should fit easily over the frame. However, the underwear require some coaxing over the frame, which isn't a big deal. From personal experience, as a note of comfort for those who don't particularly like looking at the frame, coaxing underwear/pants over a frame while steadfastly not staring is entirely possible.
The problems: The underwear are kind of loose. If that's to your taste, great. If not, less great.
Solution 3: Underwear with one side Velcro'ed
Where to find: The Internet (or make them yourself). I don't think you'd need to do much searching…
Why it works: First off, if you don't like boxers, these ought to feel relatively normal. The Velcro aspect of the underwear also means there is no coaxing over the frame involved.
The problems: The Velcro has a tendency to dig and be generally aggravating. Proceed with caution.
Shorts
Solution 1: Even though the calendar has turned to spring, it is currently winter in Minnesota. Shorts are not a concern of mine. Yet. That said, having a stretchy waistband is a must, as is loose fabric (or a zipper up the side…)
Pants
Solution 1: Loose sweatpants. Women's sizes work better than men's (I believe they grow wider before growing taller, while that rule doesn't necessarily hold as true with men's sizes?)
Where to find: Department stores.
Why it works: As with solution no. 2 for the underwear, some coaxing will be involved but so long as it goes over the frame…
The problems: If the waistband isn't in particularly good repair, be wary of a tendency to fall off (pants and such with a frame on will necessarily be wider around the waist than normal life pants and such). Also, while there might be lots more fabric, it will still probably stretch over the frame. And the frame will probably then poke holes into the sweatpants. And then they'll be ruined.
Solution 2: Pants with lots of zippers (I think cargo pants work…).
Where to find: We went to REI and found a few pairs (women's sizes, again—the men's sizes were just too long/too wide in the waist).
Why it works: Zippers are wonderful things. Also, wearing sweatpants for months and months does get a bit monotonous, no matter how much fun it might sound like at first. Getting in something vaguely normal…terrific. Really, really terrific.
The problems: First off, with anything that doesn't happen to be sweatpants, be warned: the entire frame might not be covered. Also, it's much, much, much, much harder to find articles of clothing of a doable size for things that aren't sweatpants. In finding a pair of cargo pants, we went through many more, most of which didn't even come close to fitting. Clothing with the frame can be a struggle.
Solution 3: Custom-fitted pants.
Where to find: They'll need to be custom-fitted…
Why it works: See: "custom-fitted"
The problems: Custom fitting is, as it turns out, very convoluted. My mother's working on a pair of khakis and the amount of dedication involved to make the khakis somewhat compatible with the frame is impressive…a pair of zippers, seams ripped wide open, bits of bonus fabric sewn in. This is by far the most labor-intensive of the solutions detailed here.
I've heard that snap-on pants—like warmup pants for basketball—work well, too, but my parents haven't found any up here in Minnesota (or on the Internet). I'm also mostly happy in sweatpants, so there's that, too.
I know these really are far from perfect, especially given my complete and utter lack of knowledge in all matters clothing-related (and my inherent male bias), but while bearing a frame a full return to normal is rather difficult. Hopefully this entry is helpful to future people with frames. I know it would have helped me a couple months ago.
*When I say "I," this is a collective sort of term that includes my parents, who came up with most of the ideas detailed here
Pants (and underwear and shorts and anything which has to fit over the leg)—less fine.
So. The point of this post will be to address my general solutions to the problem of getting things to fit over the frame. Unfortunately, none of the situations are really flawless. Also, none of them do anything to deal with the fact that a Taylor Spatial Frame is an impressively bulky object with a tendency to get in the way of everything. Today during lunch it was cheerfully bumping up against my mother, who was less than happy, considering that it's a rather solid metal object. Unfortunately, I really don't have much frame-related sensation and couldn't tell what it was up to…
Which is entirely beside the point, of course, but still worth noting.
Now, how I've* been dealing with the problem of getting clothing to cooperate with the frame…
Underwear
Solution 1: Don't wear.
Why it works: Nothing goes over the frame, so you neatly sidestep the problem.
The problems: See: above.
Solution 2: Large boxers made from knit fabric with stretchy waistband.
Where to find: These can be found at more or less any big department store, from what I know (which is very little); mine came from Target. While the above description makes it sound like you won't be able to find suitable underwear from a brand name, fear not.
Why it works: With enough stretchiness, the things should fit easily over the frame. However, the underwear require some coaxing over the frame, which isn't a big deal. From personal experience, as a note of comfort for those who don't particularly like looking at the frame, coaxing underwear/pants over a frame while steadfastly not staring is entirely possible.
The problems: The underwear are kind of loose. If that's to your taste, great. If not, less great.
Solution 3: Underwear with one side Velcro'ed
Where to find: The Internet (or make them yourself). I don't think you'd need to do much searching…
Why it works: First off, if you don't like boxers, these ought to feel relatively normal. The Velcro aspect of the underwear also means there is no coaxing over the frame involved.
The problems: The Velcro has a tendency to dig and be generally aggravating. Proceed with caution.
Shorts
Solution 1: Even though the calendar has turned to spring, it is currently winter in Minnesota. Shorts are not a concern of mine. Yet. That said, having a stretchy waistband is a must, as is loose fabric (or a zipper up the side…)
Pants
Solution 1: Loose sweatpants. Women's sizes work better than men's (I believe they grow wider before growing taller, while that rule doesn't necessarily hold as true with men's sizes?)
Where to find: Department stores.
Why it works: As with solution no. 2 for the underwear, some coaxing will be involved but so long as it goes over the frame…
The problems: If the waistband isn't in particularly good repair, be wary of a tendency to fall off (pants and such with a frame on will necessarily be wider around the waist than normal life pants and such). Also, while there might be lots more fabric, it will still probably stretch over the frame. And the frame will probably then poke holes into the sweatpants. And then they'll be ruined.
Solution 2: Pants with lots of zippers (I think cargo pants work…).
Where to find: We went to REI and found a few pairs (women's sizes, again—the men's sizes were just too long/too wide in the waist).
Why it works: Zippers are wonderful things. Also, wearing sweatpants for months and months does get a bit monotonous, no matter how much fun it might sound like at first. Getting in something vaguely normal…terrific. Really, really terrific.
The problems: First off, with anything that doesn't happen to be sweatpants, be warned: the entire frame might not be covered. Also, it's much, much, much, much harder to find articles of clothing of a doable size for things that aren't sweatpants. In finding a pair of cargo pants, we went through many more, most of which didn't even come close to fitting. Clothing with the frame can be a struggle.
Solution 3: Custom-fitted pants.
Where to find: They'll need to be custom-fitted…
Why it works: See: "custom-fitted"
The problems: Custom fitting is, as it turns out, very convoluted. My mother's working on a pair of khakis and the amount of dedication involved to make the khakis somewhat compatible with the frame is impressive…a pair of zippers, seams ripped wide open, bits of bonus fabric sewn in. This is by far the most labor-intensive of the solutions detailed here.
I've heard that snap-on pants—like warmup pants for basketball—work well, too, but my parents haven't found any up here in Minnesota (or on the Internet). I'm also mostly happy in sweatpants, so there's that, too.
I know these really are far from perfect, especially given my complete and utter lack of knowledge in all matters clothing-related (and my inherent male bias), but while bearing a frame a full return to normal is rather difficult. Hopefully this entry is helpful to future people with frames. I know it would have helped me a couple months ago.
*When I say "I," this is a collective sort of term that includes my parents, who came up with most of the ideas detailed here
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Months and Months
The other night I had a dream where components of the frame were falling out of my leg. I can't remember my dream-self being in pain, though the ends of the pins were a bit bloody, in a fascinating way. I think I was holding the pins. It was really quite interesting—after two months of seeing the things sticking into my leg, I can remember being a bit nervous and knowing I'd need to return to the OR and have the thing put back in. I wasn't super happy about that bit.
That was just a dream.
I'm back in my chair, typing this up. I'm wearing oversized sweatpants, warm and pretty well covered under some of the seventeen stripes on my completed blanket. Showering will still in all likelihood be the highlight of my day (I like getting clean). And, true to form, the frame is still well and truly fixed to my leg. The five halfpins and the two piano wire pins are fixing the bones in place.
Reflecting back on my experience so far, the month of December was dedicated to stressing about college and general non-frame stressors. Back then, in the good old days, I had no idea what it would be like to wear one of these things. I thought it might be painful (it isn't) but that after a couple months I'd be able to do normal people things (kind of). Then January was dedicated to realizing the magical powers of the frame, especially noting just what a large difference has been made to the alignment of my leg.
February, on the other hand, was less fun. Over the past month or so, I knit about six feet worth of blanket, probably more, part of a hat, did my homework, played approximately a bazillion rounds of some bubble shooter game which I got bored with, read all the Harry Potter books, dreamed up more ideas for novels than I'll ever actually finished, went to school, did some homework, counted way too many flies for Bio and processed too many notes for the same class, and watched roughly ten thousand episodes of Top Gear (U.K.) despite not caring one iota about ridiculously expensive cars and finding the presenters occasionally amusing at best. And that was it. That was the entirety of the month of February.
I'm hoping that March is more fun.
Now, I know the idea behind wearing the frame isn't to have fun. And trust me, going in I never once stopped to and decided being impaled by a bunch of metal rods would be a blast. That said, I stopped to think about the first couple weeks. I was worried that the frame would be painful in the first couple weeks, concerned about not being able to walk for a couple weeks, concerned about not returning to school for a couple weeks. I never stopped to reflect on the fact that I would still be processing some pretty incredible pain medications. I also never stopped to reflect on the fact that this is a full-on six month* extravaganza of being visibly post-surgery. Every other time I've had surgery the meat of the recovery lasted a few weeks or so.
The meat of this recovery is lasting a while.
It's just…I guess I never considered the possibility that the most difficult part of wearing the Taylor Spatial Frame wouldn't be physical at all but rather mental. Yes, the difficulties have their roots in my physical limitations (as in being unable to walk for very long, not trusting cold weather, being unable to go outside or go for a walk, not being able to bend my leg suddenly) but they manifest themselves in a feeling of uselessness and pointlessness which scares me quite a lot. I've found myself less and less motivated to do anything. I don't argue against blatant wastes of time (ahem, Top Gear, ahem) like I would otherwise. Things that would normally really excite me, like the Academy Awards, lose a bit of their luster.
With that said, I'm still making progress. Though the walker still comes with me to school, I barely need to use it and have managed to forget it in a classroom once or twice or more. At home, I'm entirely self-supporting. And, in perhaps the greatest accomplishment thus far, over the weekend I managed to deal with a psychotic golden retriever all on my own.
I believe I mentioned Sunny earlier in connection with his great love for sleeping on the furniture. One of Sunny's other personality traits is he really doesn't like it when my father's beeper goes off. On Friday, I believe, I was at home. Two of the brothers were off for the day, one at a fencing meet and the other at a swimming meet. The other brother was upstairs cleaning his room. I was downstairs with Sunny and, little known to me, the beeper. The beeper went off.
Sunny also went off. He started panting deeply and lunged over the arm of the chair into my lap. For a few minutes, I did my best to just pet him as he hyperventilated in my lap. After a while, though, it was time to call somebody to figure out how to address the situation so I pushed Sunny off my lap. Sunny started trying to dig a hole in the hardwood floor.
I was told via phone to locate the beeper and turn it off. Unfortunately, this was the first time I'd ever had to turn off a beeper and I was standing up with Sunny next to me, freaking out. He got onto his hind legs and put his paws on my shoulders. I wasn't concerned about him being rough—Sunny is an extraordinarily kind and gentle dog, though I was worried about him hitting the frame on the way down. He didn't, though it was still a scary situation.
Everything worked out okay in the end. Sunny spent some time outside, chilling out in many senses of the phrase, and I made it through the day without watching a single episode of Top Gear.
Long story short: I wish I could go outside to add some spice to my daily routine, even if it is Minnesota and the outdoor world is really a collection of ten thousand shades of gray. Or go outside and feel relaxed and normal again. But, at the very least, I now know I can handle myself with the golden retriever.
I'm also capable of forgetting the walker at school, but I'm less certain that's a good thing.
* I'm not sure about the six month figure. That's a rough guess. Based on my current school schedule, the frame could feasibly come off in mid-May or the last few days of March. Mid-June is also a possibility, depending on the willingness of my school to let me not do anything for a week when I could easily delay not doing anything until after graduation. Dr. Sundberg estimated last month that it'll be able to come off at the end of April but being able to come off and actually coming off are, with school, two very different things. I'll have a better estimate at my next appointment, which is sadly as of now unscheduled (there was supposed to be one February 25, but that got canceled).
That was just a dream.
I'm back in my chair, typing this up. I'm wearing oversized sweatpants, warm and pretty well covered under some of the seventeen stripes on my completed blanket. Showering will still in all likelihood be the highlight of my day (I like getting clean). And, true to form, the frame is still well and truly fixed to my leg. The five halfpins and the two piano wire pins are fixing the bones in place.
Reflecting back on my experience so far, the month of December was dedicated to stressing about college and general non-frame stressors. Back then, in the good old days, I had no idea what it would be like to wear one of these things. I thought it might be painful (it isn't) but that after a couple months I'd be able to do normal people things (kind of). Then January was dedicated to realizing the magical powers of the frame, especially noting just what a large difference has been made to the alignment of my leg.
February, on the other hand, was less fun. Over the past month or so, I knit about six feet worth of blanket, probably more, part of a hat, did my homework, played approximately a bazillion rounds of some bubble shooter game which I got bored with, read all the Harry Potter books, dreamed up more ideas for novels than I'll ever actually finished, went to school, did some homework, counted way too many flies for Bio and processed too many notes for the same class, and watched roughly ten thousand episodes of Top Gear (U.K.) despite not caring one iota about ridiculously expensive cars and finding the presenters occasionally amusing at best. And that was it. That was the entirety of the month of February.
I'm hoping that March is more fun.
Now, I know the idea behind wearing the frame isn't to have fun. And trust me, going in I never once stopped to and decided being impaled by a bunch of metal rods would be a blast. That said, I stopped to think about the first couple weeks. I was worried that the frame would be painful in the first couple weeks, concerned about not being able to walk for a couple weeks, concerned about not returning to school for a couple weeks. I never stopped to reflect on the fact that I would still be processing some pretty incredible pain medications. I also never stopped to reflect on the fact that this is a full-on six month* extravaganza of being visibly post-surgery. Every other time I've had surgery the meat of the recovery lasted a few weeks or so.
The meat of this recovery is lasting a while.
It's just…I guess I never considered the possibility that the most difficult part of wearing the Taylor Spatial Frame wouldn't be physical at all but rather mental. Yes, the difficulties have their roots in my physical limitations (as in being unable to walk for very long, not trusting cold weather, being unable to go outside or go for a walk, not being able to bend my leg suddenly) but they manifest themselves in a feeling of uselessness and pointlessness which scares me quite a lot. I've found myself less and less motivated to do anything. I don't argue against blatant wastes of time (ahem, Top Gear, ahem) like I would otherwise. Things that would normally really excite me, like the Academy Awards, lose a bit of their luster.
With that said, I'm still making progress. Though the walker still comes with me to school, I barely need to use it and have managed to forget it in a classroom once or twice or more. At home, I'm entirely self-supporting. And, in perhaps the greatest accomplishment thus far, over the weekend I managed to deal with a psychotic golden retriever all on my own.
I believe I mentioned Sunny earlier in connection with his great love for sleeping on the furniture. One of Sunny's other personality traits is he really doesn't like it when my father's beeper goes off. On Friday, I believe, I was at home. Two of the brothers were off for the day, one at a fencing meet and the other at a swimming meet. The other brother was upstairs cleaning his room. I was downstairs with Sunny and, little known to me, the beeper. The beeper went off.
Sunny also went off. He started panting deeply and lunged over the arm of the chair into my lap. For a few minutes, I did my best to just pet him as he hyperventilated in my lap. After a while, though, it was time to call somebody to figure out how to address the situation so I pushed Sunny off my lap. Sunny started trying to dig a hole in the hardwood floor.
I was told via phone to locate the beeper and turn it off. Unfortunately, this was the first time I'd ever had to turn off a beeper and I was standing up with Sunny next to me, freaking out. He got onto his hind legs and put his paws on my shoulders. I wasn't concerned about him being rough—Sunny is an extraordinarily kind and gentle dog, though I was worried about him hitting the frame on the way down. He didn't, though it was still a scary situation.
Everything worked out okay in the end. Sunny spent some time outside, chilling out in many senses of the phrase, and I made it through the day without watching a single episode of Top Gear.
Long story short: I wish I could go outside to add some spice to my daily routine, even if it is Minnesota and the outdoor world is really a collection of ten thousand shades of gray. Or go outside and feel relaxed and normal again. But, at the very least, I now know I can handle myself with the golden retriever.
I'm also capable of forgetting the walker at school, but I'm less certain that's a good thing.
* I'm not sure about the six month figure. That's a rough guess. Based on my current school schedule, the frame could feasibly come off in mid-May or the last few days of March. Mid-June is also a possibility, depending on the willingness of my school to let me not do anything for a week when I could easily delay not doing anything until after graduation. Dr. Sundberg estimated last month that it'll be able to come off at the end of April but being able to come off and actually coming off are, with school, two very different things. I'll have a better estimate at my next appointment, which is sadly as of now unscheduled (there was supposed to be one February 25, but that got canceled).
Monday, February 25, 2013
Almost Two Months In…
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.
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.
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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