No offense to our resident TBP doctors but you really do have to be your own doctor these days. I made a little discovery yesterday afternoon that has all but eliminated the need for pain pills. Normally I’d be rather pissed off at such a discovery but the decrease in pain is enough to just enjoy it.
My very first sensation in the recovery room when asked to rate my pain was that it felt like someone had a clamp on my ankle and was squeezing the hell out of it. They said they had not heard that one before but they didn’t seem concerned about it so I figured it was ok. Besides, I had two nerve block procedures and everything was numb to the touch anyway.
I started taking pain pills before the nerve block wore off as advised but by 8:00am I was in absolute agony! I was writhing on the bed it hurt so damn bad and that was with a full dose of pain meds on board! It took hours for the nursing and pharmacy staff to call me back so so I just practiced biofeedback until they called. The biofeedback helped quite a bit.
Part of my procedure involved cutting off the lower portion of the tibia called the medial malleollus to give them access to the joint. To help accommodate the swelling and to protect the joint, I was fitted with a Jones splint before waking up. What I discovered yesterday was that the splint had slipped down so that the narrowest part of the splint was now around my ankle and pushing on the reattached medial malleollus and squeezing the entire joint. I used a belt under my heel to pull the splint back up into proper position and the pain was gone almost immediately! It was like someone hit the off switch!
I’ve mentioned here before that I have a huge tolerance for pain so I was really shocked at how much pain I had. After my last surgery I only took about two doses of pain pills before stopping them. Now that I’ve sorted the splint out, I can honestly say that at rest, my pain level is lower now that it was before the surgery which is very encouraging because it never quit hurting prior to surgery. Because I’ve had the thing elevated since surgery, swelling appears to be very minimal and I’m feeling pretty good about the whole situation now.
I_S
Congratulations on a successful surgery and your pain-reduction solution.
My daughter is an RN. When she was doing nursing training and experienced the world of orthopedics, she said she never wanted to work in it because all the patients are in so much pain.
Glad to hear it worked out for you. I figure I’ve got maybe another 10 years or so before I have to get a knee either hacksawed or replaced, so I’ll be sure to inquire about splint adjustment before they put me under.
You can be your own doctor, as long as you don’t perform surgery on yourself.
Taking care of your own health is wisdom from a bygone era, sorry. Your health and well being are somebody else’s problem now. Considering 75% of Americans are either overweight or obese, and 340,000 will die from obesity this year, Boobus obesus Americanus has not taken your advice.
There’s enough obese people in this country to keep doctors in Porsches until the day we die.
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@ecliptix543: When you develop a knee problem – don’t let them talk you into a replacement or surgery until you have investigated a new procedure (practiced by one good ortho-man here) that re-coats the knee surfaces so a joint replacement isn’t necessary. Surgi-center work, faster healing, less invasive.
@IS: Right on and I’m glad you self-diagnosed your problem. ALL of those who are truly interested in their own health (and that writes off a lot of people who have the attitude of, “Here I am, fix me!”)
Always research your own symptoms, possible remedies, medications they prescribe, procedures they want to do. JUST DO IT… You will save yourself a lot of money, time and wasted energy if you know what your Doc is talking about BEFORE you go see him/her.
Any physician who resists answering questions or takes a holier-than-thou stance or is not willing to listen to your opinions is NOT acceptable and when I run into one, I terminate the appointment right NOW…
Glad things are working out for you..
MA
As I said previously…stay away from Statins….look up the side effects and look up the methodology they used to prove that they reduce your cholesterol level . Hell oatmeal does a better job .
Always get a 2nd or 3rd opinion…sometimes even more . Best of all exercise,eat right and get plenty of rest .
Muck, I have a healthy curiosity about everything including medicine so I’m happy to research anything that affects my health. I’d love to study medicine just to have the knowledge but I hate being around sick people.
One thing I recently learned regarding my most recent ankle surgery is that in order to be eligible for the procedure, I had to have at least one failed ankle surgery on the same ankle. I don’t think the first surgeon did anything wrong necessarily but now it turns out he may have done me a favor. Actually, the first procedure was the the most minimal procedure they could do but it was a Hail Mary Pass for the most part because the defect was too large. I just wish they could be up front and honest about it.
I’d like to know more about that knee surgery you mention as my wife will be in need of work on her knee in a few years. She is not the type to research things so it will be up to me.
I_S
@I_S: I’ll dig up the nomenclature on the new surgery and pass it along through Jim Q. Don’t be in a hurry as it may take a day or to to bubble to the top of my TO-DO list!
MA
I’m glad you found the cause of the problem and are finally feeling better.
I_S
Well done finding a solution that works!
Yeah, I’ve had issues myself, both personal and of loved ones.
Several years ago, I had an intense pain event so bad I figured what it was, went to my woman doctor, mature lady, the old-fashioned type that asks the right questions and listens to what the patient says.
She confirmed my appendix self-diagnosis. One light poke and she pulled me off the ceiling, heh, and booked me in to Townsville hospital. A friend drove me down, no delay in getting into emergency and prepped. And waited. Four samples of blood taken and time crept by. The nurses kept asking me if I wanted pain meds. No. If it’s manageable, fine. Four hours later, someone came along saying they needed another blood test. Why? No answer. An hour after that, it’s 11:30 at night, and an obese Indian doctor came down and mumbled at me. All these foreigners ought to have to pass an ESL test. What he said last was, “Go home.”
So there am I, fortunately with a telephone number of the woman my friend was at.
Well, I haven’t died of peritonitis and still have that damn appendix. Still no idea what that last blood test indicated — maybe just, why bother with this old geezer, he won’t last long?
I suspect my problem might be Clostridium difficile but a probiotic and a dietary modification have improved things a lot.
Flashback. When my first wife was diagnosed with colon cancer, emergency operation the same day, the evil had already spread to liver and lung. But it took a year of chemo, and radiation before the end. I never knew then what CEA was, that came later.
My second wife started the same way, feeling “off” not sure why. This time I was a bit smarter, not enough, but insisted on going to the quack with her. And I speak advisably on the label. This one was the new breed of computer docs, maybe he was afraid of touching patients. His first conclusion was a colonoscopy, you’re on the list. What the fool did not say, which we did not know, being new to the area, we could go to Townsville and get it done quickly. Instead a specialist from there came to our country town nearby. That delay of months may have written the death warrant.
Well, the colonosopy revealed nothing. Nor did the CT scan, ultrasound, MRI, those I remember, all performed in Tvl. After all the fancy tests, and the next visit for guesswork, I asked, How about a simply x-ray? This asshole got quite indignant. We left and I told Marion, that’s the last time I will see that fucker.
Now, maybe an x-ray seemed counterintuitive, but as it happened, a new friend had the same experience, all the high-tech tests and the doctors were giving up on him until his wife screamed at them, why is he in pain? So they gave an x-ray a shot, asserting it would reveal nothing.
Oops, a tumour wrapped around the exterior of the colon. So I had a reason and I blame myself for not taking complete charge and following up. Another few weeks went by, and Marion said one morning, take me to the hospital. So off to the country town, ironically Wednesday afternoon, the hospital was closed. But I managed to find the emergency room (who needs a sign, everyone knows where it is … ) and a young Sri Lankan, got her on the gurney, one poke and … ordered an x-ray. Shortly, he had a look and said, get this woman to Townsville stet!
All this had taken about eight months! The op was a success but again, the liver, with many tiny spots, inoperable. Chemo began, Xeloda tablet. The post-op CEA reading was 360. The first three week session results showed 60, next, 30, following 18 I think. But she was having a new problem, pain in right side . More fancy tests, the CT scan was interesting — the onco and department registrar were looking at the images, we’re sitting there listening to … “I wonder what that is” and “Maybe we need a radiologist to interpret.” If they did, no one said anything.
But they stopped the chemo “in case it was a side effect we’ve never known of”. I was thinking gallstone but what would I know? At any rate, whether the oxycontin or a passage, that problem became moot. Marion goes to the local quack and asked why no one was talking chemo again. So he books her appointment to the Tvl onco, there’s a blood test results sent to him. We go to the appointment, and this fucker is all shifty-eyed, I mean UNable to look either of us in the eye.
His attitude was “we’ve tried everything and it doesn’t work.” Eh? WTF? I asked what the most recent blood reading was … umm, no record of it. Double WTF? Go home and make your peace, was his recommendation. Marion was petite but tall in determination: “I’m here, this course was planned and I am by God having it.” So now it was chemo by drip. Watching paint dry. Sigh.
So I thought, in three weeks, we might know something positive. Now, the onco had done some physial exam in the previous visit, remarking ruefully, lungs aren’t a problem and you’re a smoker!
Three weeks down the track, we get there, in the waiting room. Waiting. Fuckhead comes out, sees me, walks a wide berth to avoid me. Circled around to stand behind Marion, I want to examine you over there. They go. He leaves, I go over. What’s up? He says my lungs are wrecked and they need to do some tests.
M’s booked into a ward, I must return to get someone to look after the dawg, as these were always days trips, grab some stuff for both and return. So I’m back late evening. M’s fasting for tests the next morning, no food, no water. We visit, I leave, go to nearby hotel. Return following morning, nothing started yet. M says come back later. When I do, she’s not in the ward, no nurse at the station or any in the rabbit warren corridors.
Fuck. I’m back at her bed, standing fecklessly. Hear a squeak, turn, wheelchair with M being pushed along by a nurse. M’s been crying. Nurse leaves. What’s the story?
They’d left her alone all day without notice while five doctors studied the case upstairs. Yeah, whatever. About 20 minutes before I’d got there, fuckhead came in, said, There’s nothing we can do for you, would you rather die here or in Ingham? Started to walkl out, turns, Oh, you’ve got 10 days.
He leaves.
Fuckhead was wrong. She lasted three weeks, stubborn woman. The last Saturday night, she sat up in bed, muttering softly, “Can’t take more.” I talked to her for maybe two hours, It’s all right to let go. ….. but I need to send you to the hospital, only if you say yes. She’s was pretty out of it from the morphine patches but I did get a yes. By then it was Sunday morning, it was arranged. The ambulance came, they left. Just as I was walking out the door to follow, the phone rings, it’s the ambulance office: We forgot our wheelchair, could you bring it to us?
I did then, had a day visit and an evening visit. About 10 pm, a nurse rings, Marion passed away in her sleep. Had someone drive me there. So I said my last words to her, walked to the nurse’s station and said, Who do I talk to, to arrange an autopsy?
You could have heard an electron fall. Oh. Well, the nurses there were all fine and professional people, no beef with them. So I had to explain the suspicion about the sudden lung deterioration. They saId OK, someone will call you in the morning. And another doctor I’d never seen before and I had a long talk. He signed the form, no problem.
Several days go by, the hospital rings, We need to see you about the autopsy. OK, I go there. Yes, it was done. No, you cannot see the results because of privacy concerns. You wanna bet?
I wrote a letter to the local federal parliament member, because of course he was in Canberra, took it to his office, gave to his p.a., said it wasn’t private, she should read it and act accordingly. The next day, there’s a courier at my gate with an envelope from Townsville. Right. Copy of document, no indication the lung contributed to her death, the damn liver cancer did. And quacks helped.