Knee Replacement 9: Santa’s Pre-Surgery List
At this point, I’ve made it through the first knee replacement surgery and have roughly a month to go until the second surgery. The reality of that situation—of starting all over again, of going through the pain and the suffering, the sleepless weeks—is daunting and more than a little depressing. Rather than relive it, I’m going to interrupt our narrative with a list of things I’d recommend that worked for me. Like any good American faced with a difficult challenge, I’ll try to buy my way out of anything I can. Here are the things that worked for me.
• Chobani high-protein Greek yoghurt drinks – I completely lost my appetite after the surgery and found it difficult to force down a meal (I ended up losing about 20 pounds). So, I needed to supplement. I started with a case of high-protein shakes that came in little boxes and we bought in bulk from Costco, but they had this little tin foil seal that I had to claw off with my nails, which annoyed me endlessly, and besides, they tasted like liquid cardboard. The yoghurt drinks taste like a smooth, cool, creamy treat, and deliver either twenty or thirty grams of protein (everyone, from doctors to PT to knucklehead beer-league hockey players who texted me their sage counsel, urged me to up my protein intake to promote better healing).
• David high protein bars – Though expensive, these bars tasted better than most, and are packed with more protein (28 grams) and have fewer carbs and calories. Even with the claim of no sugar, they taste reasonably good. Also, they were endorsed by a doctor named Peter Attia, whose book, Outlive, I’d read, and who I’d listened to on podcasts where he sounded smart.
• Advil cream – I rub this on my hips and lower back, which soon started to protest the weird contortions they’re forced into, as well as their increased workload. This stuff smells pepperminty, like old-school Ben Gay, reminiscent of my father's aching back and my grandfather's aching joints. Although the smell of the old men of my youth gives me pause, the pain relief is worth it. Just call me gramps.
• Mini Under Desk Bike – I looked askance at this thing, but Dr. Heiden strongly recommended it, and it was only $35 on Amazon, so I bought it. This turned out to be one of the best investments I made. Long before I could get my legs all the way around on my indoor bike, even with the seat raised, I could turn the little cranks on this thing. I used it before every home physical therapy session, and then began using it for five minutes every morning while sipping coffee. As I write this, I’m pedaling it under my desk.
• Ice Packs – Though I started with the little ice machines with the reservoir and the hose and the pad that wraps the knee—I have somehow collected five of these little beauties over the years—it didn’t take long before the noise and being connected to the hose began to bug me. So, I reverted to simple ice packs. I went for large, flexible packs that cost $10 each and bought six of them. Added to the ones we already had, we ended up with 12 in the freezer. This turned out to be the correct number for me because after I had both knees done, I’d use four at a time. One on the front of each knee and one on the back of each knee. With three sets, there was time for them to refreeze in between sessions.
• ACE bandages – Though I didn’t buy the trademarked elastic bandages, I bought a six-pack of cheaper ones on Amazon. I left a pair in all three of the spots in the house where I usually settled in to ice (bed, couch, Adirondack chair in the backyard). My technique was to wrap a cloth around my knee, then lay one ice pack under the knee and one on top. Then I would wrap it tightly with the ACE bandage. It worked better when I used the ones with the Velcro on the end.
• Knee Sleeves – Needing a layer of fabric between my knee and the ice packs to prevent frostbite and general skin irritation, we experimented with handkerchiefs, pillowcases, and dish towels. My physical therapist then recommended Incrediwear Knee Sleeves. Never one to resist spending my way out of a challenge, I had her measure my knees while I was on her table and made the order on my phone while she cranked on my knee. They were expensive, but ordering them right there and then made me feel like a hotshot (which is a feeling in short supply as you're gimping around and whimpering your way through your life). They arrived in a few days, and I still don’t quite understand what’s so incredible about them that they would be worth $130, but they work well under the ice packs, and I sometimes wear them when I’m at my desk with the idea that they might keep my knees from swelling too much while I sit.
• A good indoor bike – Being able to pedal on an indoor bike provided a massive milestone in my recovery. Everyone will tell you how beneficial the act of pedaling a bicycle is, and I’m sure that’s all true, but the mental benefit for me was at least as significant. I already had a Peloton set up in my office, and from Day 5 after my first surgery, I started trying to pedal it. At first I’d clip in my right leg (the good one) and rest the left one on the pedal, using my right leg to rock the pedals back and forth. After doing that for a while, I’d tuck my left leg in, out of the way, and spin with just the right leg for a while, just to get my heart rate up a bit. I was able to get all the way around on the pedal stroke at about two weeks out. I’d tap the setting to Just Ride and set it for 30 minutes on low resistance. This was enough to get a slight sweat going and to begin to feel like a human again. After my second surgery, I kept pedaling the Peloton every day with just one leg (I clipped in with my left foot and tucked the other one inside the cranks and rested it on the frame of the Peloton). Mine is set up so that I can watch sports on TV, and although it’s another expensive solution (a used, $100 exercise bike could probably be just as good), it’s been nothing short of a Godsend for my mental health.
• Split King Adjustable Power Bed – I know that this is a bit ridiculous—the thing costs more than the second-hand Toyota Tundra I recently bought for my son—but we needed a new mattress anyway and… okay, there’s really no rationalizing a four-thousand-dollar bed. What can I say? In the pre-surgery phase, I was scared and looking for any way to buy myself out of some of the pain and suffering that was headed my way. A marketer’s dream, I was easy prey, and before I knew it, two guys were in my bedroom with wrenches, setting up our new power bed. It’s high off the ground to help old people (like me, I guess) get out of it more easily, and just looking at it makes me feel like a geriatric, but you know what? The thing really works. Especially after my second surgery, when both knees were throbbing, the ability to raise my feet while I iced really helped.
Those are the key purchases and additions that helped me navigate my recovery days. I wish I could claim that they took all the misery away.