Physio, physio and yet more physio...

Friday was the day after my op, the day I was put on the ward and the day the physio team arrived at the side of my bed.  The section of ward where my bed was, was right opposite a small room which the Physios and Occupational Therapists used so I'd been watching them coming and going for a while.  So when I lost concentration and got distracted I was very startled to suddenly see 2 of them at my bed side with big smiles on their faces.  With the curtains pulled round the bed, they both (I can't remember their names, sadly) had a good look at my leg which was quite swollen, very hot and very red but it didn't hurt which was all I was worried about.  They soon had me sitting on the edge of the bed, the right leg didn't bend very well at all and they helped me to the comfy chair next to the bed.  A walking frame was bought for me which I was told I would be trying out later.  After a bit of a sit in the chair and a chat about an exercise regime I was helped back into bed and we went through my exercises.  Pushing the back of my knee down into the bed wasn't a problem as my thigh muscles were still as awesomely strong as they'd always been.  After all those thigh muscles had been holding me up for 45 years which meant they were quite sturdy, operated on or not operated on.
There were more exercises, lifting the leg, bending the leg etc and I think I did alright with them all except the bending ones, bending it seemed would be my nemesis and although it was not painfully painful to try and bend it, it did feel uncomfortable.

Later that day, the physios arrived again and we went for a wander up the corridor with the frame.  It was a very slow and very unsteady wobble rather than a walk but the frame afforded me quite a bit of confidence and at least I could get to the bathroom now on my own (more or less).

The following day (Saturday) a lovely & bubbly little female physio was with me bright and early (I'd only just finished my morning cuppa & painkillers) and she was putting my slippers on me and helping me stand before I could protest.  She grabbed all my toiletries etc and we headed off to the bathroom at the end of the corridor where she left me to have a wash.  It was good to be able to wash alone and not be fussed over and I was soon sorted and ready to head back.  I again had to go through my exercises on the bed and this time a male physio was trying to get me to bend the knee upwards but I was again finding it very difficult; it just would not move.  There was a bit of a discussion about the redness and heat emanating from the knee so someone brought a cryo-cuff, which was a fabulous ice therapy/cryotherapy device, which was wrapped around my knee to provide compression which apparently minimized the swelling, I didn't care what it was supposed to do; it felt lovely and gave me a bit of relief from the heat.

Later that afternoon a porter arrived at the side of my bed with a wheelchair and whisked me (very speedily I might add - I wish I'd put a cardi on!) down through the corridors of the hospital to the x-ray department where I had 2 x-rays taken of my operated knee.  The radiologist remarked on the 'huge piece of metal' I'd got in there.

Sunday morning dawned the same as all the others, blood pressure, oxygen levels, painkillers, blood test, cuppa tea and physio - Yayyy!
This time the 2 guys, Adrian and Olly, were wielding crutches which I did not fancy having a play with at all.  I'd sort of got used to the relative safety of my frame although I felt like an old lady using it!  They coaxed me into having a go with the crutches and I didn't like it at all, not one little bit.  I kept feeling like I was falling to the right, I felt unsteady even when just standing with them let alone moving.  I think I did about 4 steps and gave up, which put me in a bit of a downer of a mood for a while as I pictured not being able to progress but I gave myself a bit of a talking to and bucked my ideas up vowing to have a more positive attitude the following morning.
I was cheered up a bit later when Mum, my sister Rachel, her husband Dave and my niece Georgia all came to visit bringing Get Well cards and some sweets & butties, which was lovely.  And during evening visiting, as Sunday was his day off, Hari visited, I hadn't had any evening visitors thus far.

Monday morning Olly & Adrian were back and with my new positive attitude (as if!) we set off again with the crutches and this time, having had the height of them adjusted slightly and mastering the technique of not getting ahead of them and a couple of other things I was soon feeling a lot more confident on them and the 2 guys seemed happy too.  I was also visited by a doctor and we discussed me going home, it was decided that it would probably be tomorrow now as my oxygen levels had risen and my kidney function was in better shape (although still not good) than it was previously, but it would depend on what the physios said ultimately.

Later on the Monday evening, 2 lovely female physios walked me down the corridor slowly with my crutches, in the other direction (how exciting; somewhere new!) which turned out to be quite a long walk.  At the end was a comical staircase which consisted of 3 steps up and 3 steps down and I spent a bit of time practising on how to climb and descend stairs safely.  The motto to remember was 'good leg to heaven, bad leg to hell', meaning when going up stairs lead with your good leg and when coming back down lead with the bad.
I think I did quite well, it didn't seem to feel too difficult.  Although the bend in the right leg was still proper bobbins I had never really bent it enormously to climb stairs, I had always sort of dragged it around.  Walking back to my bay & bed was a bit tiring so they whisked me back up the corridor in a chair and insisted I sat in the so-called comfy chair by my bed for a while rather than in the definitely comfy bed.

Tuesday morning the boys were back, standing there by my bed crutches in hand and smiling, I swear these physios are masochists.  Hmmmphhh, anyway I was up and out of bed and in a wheelchair to be taken to a full set of stairs outside the ward.  The stairs were quite shallow and the staircase was wide which was a good job as there were lots of people using it, rushing up and down going about their daily routines.  I took it slowly, with Adrian in front of me walking backwards up the stairs watching what I was doing and Olly behind me with his hands on my hips also watching what I was doing, all I was worrying about was farting in poor Olly's face (well the hospital 'food' by Sodexho was enough to make anyone's innards twist and squirm in disgust).  They both seemed pleased with my progress, they said I'd done really well & they were happy for me to go home from a physio point of view.
I hadn't been back at my bed long when one of Mr Ellis's team visited to say he was also happy for me to go home so that was that decision made.  Smiley Gill :)
Olly told me they'd be out to see me at home the following day and after the pharmacist had delivered all my medication, I'd had a chat with the nurse and Hari had arrived, I got dressed, packed my huge bag and left the ward.  I did actually feel quite sad but mostly I felt very unsure about the rest of my recovery being at home and not in the safety of the little ward with the amazing nurses.