Knee Post-Op

At just past eight weeks from my knee replacement, I'm doing fine: achieving almost to 120 degree knee flex, going up and down stairs without assistance, losing weight, exercising. There's still some achy pain if I don't rest twenty out of every fifty minutes or so. But, I did manage at six weeks to pack and move from one side of town to the other--cheaper and nicer digs. In fact, I joked with my outpatient PT that he ought to advise all of his patients to move since when he measured my flex it had gone from 105 degrees before the move to 119 degrees at the end of the move.

My recovery has been aided by metaphysical tools I acquired from Alton Kamadon's Mechezedeck Method training. The night before and the morning of surgery, I activated the Kamadon Healing Temple. Thereafter, I activated it each night. Verification that the temple aided me in my recovery has come from comments by CNA's in rehab, PTs, and from a shamanic rock reading. While in rehab, I continually heard encouraging words. CNAs noted that my wound was dry whereas others' might be weaping. My outpatient PT said, "That's the best knee I've seen all year." That's no small thing since my other damaged knee prevents me from attempting some of the exercises. And, when I attended a class in shamanic rock reading, my counselor said of my rock, "I see a temple. It's good."

Just yesterday my alarm clock, which was not set to awaken me, went off at 7:13 a.m. I have a habit of checking numbers that come to my attention. In Doreen Virtue, Ph.D.'s little book of Angel Numbers I read that the Angels and Ascended Masters were helping me in my "healing and manifestation." The piece also advised me to "stay in touch." Nightly, I ask for healing of my knee when I set up the Temple, and I have noted that even though I don't religiously do the PT exercises, my knee's performance has shown improvement at the bi-weekly PT sessions. One night a guru whose workshops I've attended appeared in a white-on-white scene just as I closed my eyes and after I made my nightly appeal for assistance through the healing temple.

Although I am crediting the Kamadon Temple with it's help, the caveat is, as Namadeva (Thomas Ashley-Farrand) repeatedly reminds us in mantra work, that we need to be open to guidance. All metaphysical tools affect the third dimension. Prayers and mantras said by friends, my own use of mantra, and other practices have helped shape when and how this surgery has occurred along with the results. It became clear to me in rehab that I moved to Eugene, in part, to have this surgery performed by Dr. Brian Jewett, an outstanding surgeon from the Eugene's Slocum Center for Orthopedics and Sports Medicine. Similarly, several people whose knees Dr. Jewett had replaced recommended the Lutheran's Good Samaritan rehab care--even the food was good. I was led and arrived because I asked and trusted.

Driven to River Road Hospital before 5 a.m. by Sheila, my good friend and supporter during this ordeal, I felt trepidation but also confidence that the surgery would go well. In part that was because from a woman I spoke with at an art event in the fall to knocking on a stranger's door at 11 p.m. one March night because I had locked myself out while taking out the garbage and needed a locksmith, I heard nothing but cudos for Dr. Jewett. When I asked at my pre-op appointment if I had anything to worry about, he said, "Lots. But, let me do the worrying." When the surgery was over, he told Sheila that it had gone very well. When I heard that I knew that neither he nor his team nor I were alone in the operating room. Having called upon them regularly, I trust that both surgery and recovery have been aided by the Ascended Masters and Angels. After all, the guru who appeared recently is a direct descendant of the Buddha and a king who has renounced his Indian throne in this life, no doubt an Ascended Master.

I trust the Kamadon Temple and those associated with it will see me through the second knee surgery as well. I give thanks to both corporeal and incorporeal beings for their loving kindness.

Knee Replacement is "Like Buying a New Car"

According to the anesthesiologist I saw for a pre-op consult today, the up-side of knee replacement is that it's "like buying a new car." I'll have a new knee. Yes, and I'll have hours of painful rehab and a week in a rehab center, hopefully the one of my choice--though that's not guaranteed--depending on space. So, while I appreciate his short-circuiting my self-pity, I'm not certain about his metaphor.

For example, when I purchased a "new" used this car this past spring, I didn't go out to the shop to watch the mechanic as he stuffed my front doors to eliminate the annoying "canaries" that chirped as I drove the winter-rutted streets. Instead, I sat comfortably in the dealership's waiting room, drinking coffee and reading a novel. My participation in repairs wasn't necessary. The only discomfort I experienced was wishing they'd hurry up since it was an early spring day, and I wanted to be outside enjoying it.

I did ask if I could have both a spinal block and general anesthesia. Silence. I said, "Knock me out." We determined that, since I once was totally awake during one of my colonoscopies watching the video of the exam as it went on, I might remain aware. Therefore, we decided I need a general. They also provide a knee block, which should keep me painfree until the painkiller "catches up." I don't care to hear the saw or listen to the commentary or what the team may be planning post-surgery.

A nervous twitch has appeared in my right eye, probably thanks to the upcoming surgery. Never had it with a new car purchase. It has appeared seemingly in conjunction with a viral medication I recently started, so I asked about it. But, I have had it before--when aggressive students gathered around my desk at grading periods. My right eye would start its little dance. Just how deeply the prospects of this surgery are affecting me became clear when I started to tear up while talking to this Russian immigrant anesthesiologist--had trouble placing his accent, but it's probably Russian. Not sure why the unshed tears and voice quaver surprised me.


No guarantee that he'll be my anesthesiologist either. Whoever it is will have this guy's notes about what we've talked about. Hope that s/he chooses the correct type of anesthesia since he listed both choices with an arrow up to "General." Recently I bought a bed. When I made the final downpayment, I told a furniture saleslady to put the second page on top so that I'd get the normal rather than the reduced box spring. My original saleslady had rewritten the order because I had changed my mind, wanting to put a bedskirt on the new box spring without having to make alterations. Of course, the second lady argued about putting the second page on top. When the delivery men carried in the box spring, I stood there pointing at it saying, "No, no, no. I told her to switch the pages." The men redelivered the right size the next week. But, buying a bed isn't quite like having knee surgery--there isn't a redo the next week, at least I hope not.


When I first saw the hospital and its adjunct buildings, I thought, "That looks like the Titanic." It dominates the mountains behind it because of the size of the facility. I hope that the analogy stops with the name. I have already had an argument with the woman who called to ask me to return tomorrow. I didn't provide enough of a sample for the required tests. I told her it was because I suffered anxiety, not being sure the bathroom door was locked (apparently it wasn't). She argued with me. As she argued, I repeated my observation: "I suggest you put an arrow showing which direction is locked." After I repeated that a couple of times, she finally quit saying, "Yes." Sure hope those who will be caring for me have better hearing than this lady did. After all, I taught school for 32 years, and I'm great at repeating myself until the "student" gets it.

As one of my meditation teachers used to say after he'd taken us so far in a visualization, "The journey is yours." Sometimes the "journeys" we took were a bust, and sometimes they connected us to the Divine. I suspect that "journey" is the better metaphor for a surgery. Today I took the second leg. I trust and will be happy if my upcoming journey is merely fine because Divine might mean I had a near death experience.