Front Porch: Prepping for knee surgery requires careful coordination

So … here comes knee replacement surgery in less than two weeks. I’m pretty sure than when scaled down to an individual action, preparation for this thing is right up there with Gen. Patton’s planning his 3rd U.S. Army’s campaign through France during World War II.

Honestly, I’ve driven a household of goods from Miami to Spokane with fewer things to be concerned with – and doing so with a dog in heat, navigating through the tail end of a hurricane outside Montgomery, Alabama, and camping outdoors (my husband doesn’t believe in tents) in Louisiana while being attacked by the largest mosquitoes on the planet.

I’m all for being thorough and careful, but holy moly, this knee-surgery prep is something else.

This all started nearly 20 years ago when an orthopedic surgeon said I had a knee that needed replacing. I won’t go back that far to tell a long and boring story of minor fixes, compensating and limping along for all these years. But here we are now, and it has to happen.

I was approved for surgery last summer. COVID and its aftermath on the health care system – especially surgical scheduling – was going to require a long wait (which is a whole other story), but I finally got a date of March 9, and so, the drill began.

Any other needed surgical work, including dental cleaning appointments, had to be completed a month before the knee replacement – and can’t be resumed until three months after. Got all of that taken care of. Nor can there be open wounds of any sort. Being very careful as I move around out in the world.

A pre-op physical required. Check. EKG and cardiac clearance, check. Two-hour presurgery class scheduled and taken.

That’s just some of the official stuff. Then there are the lifestyle things, not just for me, but also for my husband, who has his own medical things going on. I am the arranger of all things medical and pharmaceutical in our house, so I’ve been busy.

And, as it’s my right knee undergoing surgery (my brake/gas pedal leg), I’ll not be behind the wheel for many weeks. All those quick trips to the store for just about everything needed to run the household will have to be done by – gasp – spouse.

I have made gentle fun of Bruce since, well, forever, at his inability to navigate a grocery store or even recognize that we’re running short of something. He shrugs and smiles, because it’s true – and this is a man who can spot a newborn fawn across an inlet, hidden in the bushes, yet can’t locate a half-gallon of lowfat milk at eye level in the refrigerated section of Rosauers, even if it were bathed in neon lights.

Knowing the situation, friends have volunteered to run such errands for us. Trouble is, I always have post-anesthesia flights of brain fog, exacerbated by excessive goofy brain from opioid meds (which I hate), so it may be difficult for me to even notice that we need something.

But I planned ahead and laid in vitamins and toilet paper, and even paid ahead some of the bills I usually take care of. Even got our 2022 income tax information to the accountant way earlier than usual.

And then …

My surgeon had a mishap while skiing. The person having surgery, therefore, was going to be him.

Obviously, this wasn’t intentional, and I’m glad he wasn’t injured more seriously. It wasn’t about me (or about any of the other affected patients). But, darn it, it was all about me in my own little petulant mind.

No surgery for me in March, when my husband’s business is kind of dormant and I had lined up all the troops and was ready for battle. Rats.

Happily, my knee will now be tended to early in May, when my husband couldn’t be busier. I’ve had a molar pulled and a thingie on my face biopsied – all more than a month before the new surgery date, whew. I’ve moved – forward or back – other medical things for myself and Bruce … again. Am having a second pre-op physical and series of hoop-jumpings, etc. And canceled plans to attend a wedding in Seattle.

Our son has moved some days off from March to May to come give us a hand for that first week. I’ve had to turn down writing a series of graduating senior stories for this newspaper’s graduation issue (my favorite thing to do) because I can’t squeeze it in between all the other stuff.

I know … whine, whine, whine. But, jeez, it feels like a lot.

And just think, if all goes well this time, I get to do it all over again late this fall for my other knee.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net.