"Time Flies Like An Arrow; Fruit Flies Like A Banana." ~ Anthony G. Oettinger

 

Tick tock, tick tock.  Time can soar on swift wings or plod slowly and painfully depending on what we face.  Events can happen so swiftly that it makes one’s head spin.  Then there is the thing that drags on and on seemingly without end. 

After months of delay, including an unexpected diagnosis of MDS, G has finally gotten a new knee.  On March 4th, G had a total knee replacement.  Surgery was successful.  The MDS complicated the process somewhat causing G to need a blood transfusion before being discharged from the hospital, but on the fourth day, G was discharged, and we (including our dog) temporarily moved in with our good friends Kirk and Joan. 

 

Staying in Kirk and Joan’s single level house was a wiser choice than our 5th wheel.  Their moral support and help were invaluable to us those first ten days.  This was southern hospitality at its most gracious.  (We actually had numerous offers of temporary quarters from several good friends.  Thanks to all of you for your concern, support and kind offers.)

G’s home physical therapist is Anastasia, a wonderful Greek woman who we have become quite fond of.  Her European inflection sounds so similar to my late grandparents’ Slovakian accent that she feels nearly like family and reminds me of how much they are missed.

 

G now has one perfectly straight leg and one bowed leg.

 

By the tenth day, G felt ready to go home, and we returned to our 5th wheel.  This is Anastasia’s first experience giving home therapy to a patient living in an RV.  She comes three days a week and has predictably fallen under Duncan the Westie’s spell.  On arrival, Anastasia first greets the Westie, “I’ve been waiting all day to see you!” she exclaims before turning her attention to her patient.

PT has been going well.  G can bend up to 117 degrees.  On March 15th, the staples were removed, and the swelling was gradually reducing.  However, a small hole in the incision opened and began to seep blood.  G’s orthopaedic surgeon cleaned off the bloody scab and inserted a swab into the hole.  The hole was quite deep, and he was able to turn the swab in a 360 degree circle deep under the skin.  There appeared to be a small cavern with a reservoir of blood lying below the surface preventing full healing.  Although there were no signs or symptoms of infection, G’s doctor decided to reopen the incision for exploration and irrigation.  Any infection would travel to the new joint which would require a subsequent surgery with a new knee replacement joint device.  No thank you!

On April 1st (April Fool’s Day) G was back in the hospital for the “suspected infection.”  His incision was reopened, explored and irrigated.  Cultures were taken, and the incision was left open, packed and bandaged.  The open wound is 10 cm long, 4 cm wide and 1 cm deep.  Surgery took about an hour, and I took G home the same day.  I drove the short drive home and pulled into the driveway.  We didn't notice that G’s wound had hemorrhaged during the trip until we went to get out of the truck.  His bandaging was blood soaked right through, blood was dripping down his leg, and a pool of blood had gathered at his feet on the truck floor mat. 

We had never seen this much blood before and were both completely undone by the sight of it.  G put pressure on the wound, and I drove him to the ER.  G left a trail of blood from the ER door to the front desk and to the seating area.  Nurses brought a towel and leak proof pad to place beneath his elevated leg.  G used the towel to form a soft tourniquet around his leg.  A janitor was summoned to mop up the floor.  G turned to me and said, "My life has turned into a dumpster fire."

When G finally got taken back to a bed, the nurses cut off the bloody bandaging, and we got our first look at the gapping, packed wound.  The sight of it gave me shivers.  The packing was left in place, the wound rebandaged, and we eventually went home.  This is not an April Fool’s Day story!

 

Physical therapy has been suspended while the wound is healing.  A home nurse comes three times per week to repack and bandage the wound.  The good news is that the cultures came back negative; no infection present.  G had no chemo during the month of March, and all chemo has been suspended until his wound heals.  A blood draw today revealed that his counts are slowly dropping.  It’s now a race between the healing of his wound and the dropping of his blood counts.  Tick tock, tick tock.