For a couple of weeks I felt pretty despondent. Got over the op well, was up and about, increasingly independent – but had no more flexibility in my right knee than before the operation. And that’s despite my surgeon’s triumphal demonstration at the very end of the op, deliberately bending the knee so I could see the change.
But apparently this is OK. The stuff stopping my knee bending is more to do with post-op swelling than the dreaded scar tissue, and between my two weekly appointments at Bridgnorth physio I’ve made some measurable progress (the magic protractor, just like maths at school), so that I now transfer on to their weekly one-hour session in the gym, moving round various pieces of equipment, but also having some intensive 1:1 work in increasing flexibility in the knee.
At the end of October I get to see my surgeon again. This is a more realistic time scheme within which to review progress, and they’ll ensure that my physio continues for as long as is necessary. If despite that there are still serious flexibility problems then he may perform a manipulation – anaesthetic but not invasive surgery, wrestling the muscles into submission.
Which is fine, but I could/should have been told all that two weeks ago, when I had had no physio and was terrified that the knee was settling into concrete by the day. (It didn’t help that after my first knee op this wasn’t a problem; then I was trotting up and down stairs using alternate legs like a reasonable human being. The problems only set in later).
But I am a lot happier about it now, and cosily settled into my routine of 12 exercises, ten times each every day, with a couple of walks into Wenlock, hours sitting with my knee raised but nestling between two bags of frozen peas, and then a good-night injection into the gut before I go to bed. Thank God for Netflix, BT sport and the local library.