Bad Knees Blog - take 9

Cindy and drove to Pittsburg Wednesday morning. Aside from the severe thunderstorms in Southwestern New York, it was a nice drive, reminiscent of our old road trips. We got to the clinic just before my 11:00 o'clock appointment. Precisely at 11:00 I was led into a fairly typical examination room. The nurse told me to change into my shorts (I always take hiking shorts to my appointments now to avoid the humiliation of those hospital things they keep on hand for the foolish and unprepared). She said, "The doctor will be right with you," and added, "and we ask you not to touch the table. Everything here is sterile." She pointed to a small metal table with an array of syringes and guaze layed out.

The doctor was not as prompt as I would have liked, but before long, I was on the examination table, and he was putting his needle collection to good use. First, he froze the knee on all sides. Then he drained whatever fluids he could find. He did this part with remarkable enthusiasm, exploring the insides of my knee, up, down, and across moving well beyond what I would define as knee territory. The last part, when he said "This one might hurt" was the only one that "hurt", but I'm a Youper, so I pretended it was cool. By then, I had been poked a total of 7 times. The next part was the Prolotherapy, several injections that irritate the tissue and ligaments to promote regeneration and healing. Some people stop there, but for me, it's the preparation for Monday's program. Throughout this procedure, the doctor prompted the assistant to snap a picture of the ultrasound from time to time. I made a clever comment about Facebook, but nobody laughed, and that's how it ended.

Like I said, it was pretty uneventful. We had a nice drive home, and we made boiled dinner for Saint Patrick's day. Now I'm trying to catch up on my school work, because I plan to be indisposed next week.

So, the kids are coming over to watch the house and the dog for a couple days, and we head out of town bright and early Monday. We'll arrive in time for the festivities to begins with doses of muscle relaxants and pain pills. Shortly after, they take blood to process platelets for later in the day. Then they flip me over and stick a long needle into my hipbone to get stem cell material. When I suggested I might not want the pain killers for this, The doctor smiled and said, "You're going to want the pain meds."

Okay, okay, I will take my meds. I may be a Youper, but I'm not insane.

At this point I'll hobble off on my crutches to get a bite to eat. When I return three hours later I'll get the platelets first, then the processed stem cells. That's it for Monday. We'll go off to our hotel, I'll take more meds, and I'll slip in and out of consciousness with March Madness as a background.

They say I'll want to rest on Tuesday, so I guess I'll rest. Then again, if the meds do their job, I may tag along with Cindy to one of the local Pittsburg restaurants. By the way, despite the fact that Ben Roethlisberger lives there, Pittsburgh is a great city. Even so, I'm not holding my breath about the outing.

We return to the clinic on Wednesday for another dose of platelets in the morning and prolotherapy around noon. That's it. I put my memory foam pillow on the car seat, and we drive home to let the little cells do their work. Stay tuned for that.

Here's a mildly interesting story. When my dog's vet found out I was doing the stem cell procedure, she said "Fantastic!" Apparently, she uses stem cell therapy for horses with joint problems and she says it's very effective. Then she said, "Oh yes. You're going to want the meds."