Back home at 8:00 Wednesday night. They replaced Kit's knee Monday morning, finishing up just a bit past noon. For the past few days it's been pain-killers and extensive physical therapy. She's doing far better than she thinks she is.
Last time, three years ago on the other knee, it was just a bad experience all around. Although she could move better with that new knee than with the one she was born with, there hasn't been a day in the past three years when she wasn't in pain. (The operation was a success, blah, blah, blah...) Her experience at the hospital was not stellar, to say the least. The physical therapy she received was under par. It looks as if she ended up with three neuromas around the scar tissue -- something we can finally take care of sometime next year.
So we learned. Different doctor. Different hospital. Different result altogether. Already she's in far less pain than with the last knee replacement. Doctors, nurses, assistants, therapists...on down to cleaning staff and volunteers -- all were professional, courteous, friendly, and concerned. A detailed plan was in place and followed to the letter. So we're happy. The next month or so will be strenuous, but it's so much better than having Kitty in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, which was the very real and only alternative.
No Bad Joke Wednesday today for 12.12.12.
Instead, how about a pretty yucky story one of the nurses told us? About a patient who, after they replaced his knee, wanted his old knee back. Not put back into him, just back. Like in a bag or something. Turns out he wanted to bring it home with him...and feed it to his dog! (They didn't give it to him, but sheesh! Another person I truly do not want to meet.)