Bad Knees Blog-take 18: Blood & Hiccups
This is a tale of blood and hiccups and other things. More, in fact, of other things, but not about guitars. I just like the picture.
Cindy and I drove to Pittsburgh recently for my one-month stem cell check out. Cindy did most of the driving. She worries about my knee even when I feel fine, afraid I might put too much stress on it. She has good reason to worry. She was there when I could barely manage to get in and out of the car, when I couldn't sleep for days and nights on end, and when I discovered the meaning of pain. You remember.
But I digress.
The drive was relaxed. We gave ourselves plenty of time to stop for lunch and to get through the miles the construction, but even that wasn't so bad. It was a nice day, we were together, and as usual, it was a good time to be away from Buffalo, work, iPads, television, and the realities of daily life. The last time we drove down, I was anticipating three days of stem cell treatments, and was overly anxious about the prescribed cocktail of meds I had to take twice before our arrival, and simultaneously, I was hopeful and worried about the outcome of the treatment. This time, we were driving 3 1/2 hours for a 15 min. appointment where I would report that I felt better, but "It's hard to know how much better," and I expected more of the same. I was tired of the brace, tired of the pile of supplements I swallowed each day, and I had that 65% chance of success firmly in my brain. Aw the recovery dragged on, the number translated more and more to a 35% chance of failure.
We pulled into the clinic parking lot ten minutes early and met a couple outside the office. The woman was using a cane and, as she does, Cindy struck up a conversation. Her new friend was there for stem cell treatment on her hip. Her husband asked how my procedure had gone, and I realized I was actually doing pretty well. I told him my kimp is nearly gone and when there's pain, it's fairly low. I said, "So far, it seems to be working."
That's when the woman put her hand against her lower back and said, "I'm bleeding." She had just gone through the "harvesting" procedure where the doctor drills into each hipbone to extract bone marrow stem cells and, apparently, the nurse hadn't plugged one of the holes well enough.
A few days after my procedure Cindy caught a glimpse of my naked backside and said, "Wow, the holes where they drilled into you are really big." I still have the scars, and I'd love to see the bit he used.
The woman, her hand bloody, hobbled back into the clinic, got properly patched up, and was on her way to lunch. She would be back that evening to have the fired up little devil shot back into her hip like a tiny SWAT team on a mission.
In case you missed it, that was the blood.
My appointment was less eventful. The good but dry Dr. Lieber watched me walk, measured my leg, checked the range of motion, and asked a lot of questions. He noted he didn't like the inflammation I continue to have (my therapist didn't neither) but said I was clearly improving. He gave me the okay to ride my bike to work again and, best of all, I no longer needed the brace unless I go hiking over uneven terrain. I used the brace once last week when I mowed my lawn, a perfect test case for uneven terrain. That was good news to me because I was sick of the wonderful brace, and it was good news to Cindy, who was in the treatment room with me, because it suggested she was going to get her hiking partner back. The doctor also said I should be seeing dramatic improvement from here on in. We'll see. Nevertheless, I left feeling pretty good-more hopeful than not.
Now, more than a week later, I'm even more hopeful. My leg feels good, not great, but the difference is already significant. I don't want to get too hopeful. I've been there, and that fall can hurt, but so far the changes are real. We'll see what the coming weeks bring. I have to remind myself that this is a long process, and I'm going to give it six months at least, and a year at the most before I can judge.
About the hiccups-we were down for the treatments, I began hiccupping. This was the headbanging, body shaking, drive you crazy variety of pickup. It started early Tuesday morning, and did not stop. I remember reading about some guy who had the hiccups for 30 years or something, and after three days I was ready to call the Guinness Book of World Records. Anyway, they finally dissipated after a few days, probably the result of the medication, and all I have left is the daily heartburn from the supplements. I can live with that.
So on we go. I'm going to go do my exercises, watch a Premiere League soccer match, and enjoy a beautiful Buffalo Saturday.
My best to everyone out there.
