Happy Anniversary

Skip this post if you don't want to watch me pitch a fit.
Seriously.
I shall whine. And vent. And gnash my teeth. And look crazily like my father as I do so. Or should I say look crazy like my father?
Hm.

Although I'd pretty much rather forget it, it was a year ago today that Dr. Slice and Dice replaced the ACL in my left knee.

I spent the night in the hospital, while they tried to get the pain under control. It was horrendous, monstrous, all-encompassing and nightmarish, despite the morphine, the lovely nurse who took such good care of me, and the semi-privacy of a room that was no bigger than a fart bucket, as my grandma used to say.

Had some fun with complete numbness in the leg, which scared me to death, no one had prepared me for that possibility.

When I read the surgeon's report later, I learned that the first step in my surgery was to cut off blood flow to my leg via a tourniquet on my upper thigh. For the entire surgery. So a simple explanation would have been greatly appreciated. Not that anyone gave a shit then or gives one now.

In a recovery that was just as painful and just as horrible as the rotator cuff surgery I'd had eight months earlier, I spent time watching an old television series, some documentaries and the inside of my eyelids. All perfect for the amount of attention span I had between the narcotics and the pain.

I went back to work in September when school started, still taking pain medication, still limping. Still wearing an immobilizing brace. Still hurting. It was goddamn hard to be there the requisite six hours a day, but the fear of having my insurance benefits taken away once again kept me there through the pain.

I'd love to say that a year later, I'm glad I had the knee fixed, but I don't know if I can honestly say that.

It didn't hurt until I tore it in the first place. I'd basically recovered from the meniscus surgery, and was doing well.

Now, a year after it's been 'fixed', it hurts.
Often.
I'm told I just need to buck up and learn to live with it. It's a 'chronic condition.'

I have a medical arbiter exam in a couple weeks to determine the extent of permanent disability. I'm sure that will be a lot of fun, considering how much general anxiety I have and how much medically-specific anxiety I have piled on top.

Got a lovely offer to settle last week, although we didn't discuss dollar amount, because a caveat was that I would need to resign from my job. Unless it's a million dollars, I won't consider that.

Really.

And then, if it were a million, I'd start my own child care center and do it right.
But I am sure it's a pittance... not that it matters. Since through all kinds of shit and pain and aggravation and stress I have done a damn fine job and plan to continue doing so as long as I can.

Up yours, Statesman and Philanthropist, LLC.

You don't know me. My work ethic. The fact that I have worked goddamn hard at my glorified babysitter job and I am very, very good at what I do. Fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

In case that's not clear, I'll come back to it later.

Now we get to discuss the right knee.

I fired my surgeon, although that's not really the right word. I just... switched doctors. He was not going to perform surgery, which suits me just fine, so had no reason to continue seeing me.

As he sat and looked at me while I talked, I got the feeling he was listening to about every third word. And dismissing me.


As in, "I've stopped listening. Why haven't you stopped talking?"

But the doctor I transferred my care to is not a specialist. And won't disagree verbally, let alone in writing that there is still something going on with my right knee. And has let me know that within a month or so, he'll be expecting to sign off on my case. Pressure from the comp insurer.

To make that even nicer, when I called for a refill on the goddamn pain meds, I was treated to a mini lecture from the doctor that came via Lena*. That I need to discuss starting to taper off. That anti inflammatory and pain medications aren't a long term solution.

Awesome. I've heard from this person and that person and the other person that they can't help me, that there's nothing really wrong besides I'm a twin to Jabba the Hutt
(thanks for the giggle you left in my comments a couple weeks ago,  Fern dear ) and that I have arthritis.

Yes to both. HOWthefuckEVER... I know the difference between the mild grinding and discomfort of ordinary wear and tear aka arthritis and the FUCKING RIP in my FUCKING RIGHT KNEE.

So now, I get to use my own medical insurance. And go to another orthopedic doctor. And the frame of mind I'm currently in? I hope he's not offended by profanity.

Hm. Maybe I should print this post out and be ready to hand it to him on my way out if he turns out to be an arrogant asshole who graduated from the same, "I have stopped listening, why haven't you stopped talking?" school of medicine.

Okay. So medicating the pain isn't a long term solution.

What the fuck is???? What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I resent having to buy a goddamn advocate. I resent ALL of this shit!!!