Post-Surgery: Week 0

It was nice seeing all my friends, their company made the pain less worse. Going through surgery was such a strange feeling -- I can't believe I went through it; I did it!

The last thing I remember before waking up was the oxygen mask placed over my mouth and nose and me having to breathe. Then I woke up, I could feel that time had passed by. I quickly established the hard facts to stop myself from having uncontrollable thoughts from being high on morphine and anaesthesia: I have gone through surgery, it is done, and I am now awake. I could feel a dull ache and pain in my leg and knee and I was drifting off to sleep every few moments. After realising that the worst had been over, I started crying uncontrollably. The nurses came to wipe the tears off my cheeks and asked if I was crying because of the pain, to which I responded with, "No, I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional though."

The tears were so cathartic; it felt so good to be able to relieve myself of all the stress and tension and nerves and the tangled mess of feelings and hysteria that I felt leading up to the surgery. It felt so, so good. And the pain wasn't that bad. The worst I had was when visiting hours were over, after 9pm when friends and family left, and my leg was throbbing. The muscle spasms coupled with random, sharp pains led to me groaning in pain for an hour or so as I attempted to drift off into sleep.

The second day at the hospital wasn't so great -- I had to go for physiotherapy and the nurse informed me of the expectation of me bending my knee at 90 degrees in two weeks. I couldn't even move my leg in any direction! I cried, teared, perhaps, about three times at physiotherapy because of the pain. Standing up, walking around, bending my leg, having it raised and lowered by the nurses and physiotherapists, it was all painful. Not to mention the frustration I had with regards to doing simple, daily activities like walking or climbing steps.

I understand that recovery is a slow process and I cannot expect myself to be self-sufficient within a week of surgery; I try to remind myself to not be discouraged so easily, and I think I'm doing a good job at not being demoralised at this progress or having to have someone lift my leg for me or help me to a simple task. I'm going to consciously recognise my progress no matter how small it may be; I shall make small strides with my small victories. For example, I can now get on and off the bed, go to the toilet, walk around the house, and even sit at the dining table on my own! I can feel myself gaining mobility even though I'm still relying on my trusty walking frame, not crutches! I don't trust crutches. My right leg, triceps, biceps, shoulders, chest, back, and virtually every other part of my body beside my left leg are going to get so toned from all the flopping and hopping that I'm doing. I'm also doing the exercises for my left leg even though they hurt so much, but I'm going to have to live with it; the pain will get better and I need to make progress. Pain is temporary.

Also, what the hell is dating? Is it any different from deepening a friendship? I don't know, man.