Home Health Care

Several years ago, before we had children and our own business, I worked for a government contractor with a great health benefit system. Before my wife and I started our own business, we agreed it would be a good idea to have my knees checked before we started out and ran up our insurance premiums. It'd been several years since my last physical or visit to a doctor of any kind (When ever I go to a doctor, they either want to stick a needle in me or chop on my knees. This tends to make me a little reluctant to visit that profession). Since I am basically helpless when it comes to picking a doctor, my wife helped me and did a ton of research. She found a joint specialist in Washington, DC that also did most of the joint work for the Washington Redskins.

Since my bone disease is fairly rare, we spent a few visits explaining and educating this doctor. After the third visit and no needles and no chopping, I was feeling pretty good. That's when the hammer dropped. He decided that I needed to have a few bones removed and my kneecap "cleaned." So the date was set and my dad came in to help take care of me while I recovered. My two executioners (this will become clear in a little bit) drove me to the medical center for the out-patient surgery. I had definite plans on how the surgery would happen, and they all involved me being blissfully comatose through the entire thing. My wife, on the other hand had gone and done more annoying research. Apparently, general anesthesia was now considered dangerous. So, my plans were cancelled and I was talked into getting an spinal tap, with the guarantee that I wouldn't feel a thing. They even promised me something to help me relax and sleep. A long needle in my spine and the chance to be permanently paralyzed or an IV with nice drugs...

So they put in the spinal block and put me on my side in the pre-op area and waited for it to take affect. After about twenty minutes a nurse came back, tapped my leg and asked if I felt anything. Nope, everything was going according to plan. My right leg was completely numb. The nurse asked if I was ready and even started to wheel me to the operating room when I casually mentioned that I could still pretty much feel everything in my left leg. This brought a frown of confusion and a question of why I brought that up. I calmly mentioned that they were operating on both my knees. (While I did contemplate not saying anything and then collecting on a huge malpractice suit, it was only for a second when weighed against the pain.) So, I was flipped over to the other side until my left leg was also numb then off we went.

The promised drugs did relax me and I drifted off to a peaceful sleep. I also woke up about halfway through. There was the coolest movie on the screen. It looked just like the sandworm in the Dune movies. Except you could see it burrowing through the sand. I must have made a comment because someone said that was the arthroscopy. It took a few minutes to put it all together... I was actually watching them "clean" my knee, a surgical instrument inside my body, while I was awake. Only one word can adequately sum up that experience-cool!

Surprisingly, in Washington, DC, if you get your body cut open, bones literally hacked out by a hammer and chisel (granted, it's an EXPENSIVE hammer and chisel) and your kneecap buzzed by something that looks like a sandworm, it is classified as out-patient surgery. I'd no sooner woke up completely than they started getting me ready to go home. I mentioned that there was still a huge honking needle in my back that might pose a problem getting into the car, and they graciously removed it. My knees were locked in two thick braces, so I had no choice but to let my wife drive home.

Once home, my wife and dad sprang into action. Ice was applied, pain-killers ordered, something to drink and read kept close by as I was laid to rest on the couch. Everything went along smoothly until nature began calling. I'd made sure the crutches were nearby so I reached for them. Both of my guardians leapt up and wanted to know what I was doing. I explained the basics of biology and how the human bladder is a finite organ that needs emptying periodically. Truthfully I was little disappointed in my wife. She new enough about general anesthesia to know it was pretty much fatal (at least for me) but going to the bathroom was a surprise to her.

They both insisted they help me to the bathroom. I should mention that the house we were living in at the time had amazing hardwood floors throughout. It was an old house, so they were polished from years and years and years of use. I was wearing a pair of shorts, two thick knee immobilizers and and socks. My two caretakers each took an arm to help me up. As they lifted and I put weight on my feet, my socks slipped and instead of going up, I ended up on my butt. Instead of the expected gasps of anguish at how they'd failed their jobs, both of them were laughing uncontrollably. Apparently they thought it was quite funny.

So, my wife and dad have been added to doctors in the list of people that seem to want to hurt me for no apparent reason.