Bipolar Me

For the last few weeks, I’ve been concentrating on my knee rather than my brain. If everything went welI, I will have a total knee replacement (last Monday) and have been trying to heal and regain motion ever since.

I’ve known this operation was coming for quite some time. I’ve been using a cane, but walking slower all the time and falling fairly regularly, sometimes hitting my head against hard objects, some of which could have had serious consequences. Now it’s time to take the plunge. By the time I write more, the operation will be over. I’ll be writing on my laptop in bed rather than the desktop in my study, so we’ll see how that goes.

In the run-up to the operation, I’ve been experiencing a lot of anxiety, what with all the doctor’s appointments, orientation, instructions, acquiring equipment, and treating my nervous rash with cortisone cream and antihistamines. My husband, who has an “Emotional Support Husband” t-shirt, has been just that. And my friend Josh, who has been through a number of orthopedic surgeries, has been giving me valuable advice like “Ice is your friend.” Friends and acquaintances are praying for me, the surgeon, and the healthcare team. (Or lighting candles, chanting, or sending good thoughts, whatever they prefer. I’m not picky.)

I’ve been wondering if I really need to do this. Now that I’ve been through it, I find that it hurts quite a lot. The incision is all wrapped up in cotton wool and slick tape. I’m not eager to start peeling off layers anytime soon. My physical symptoms include ones I’ve been trying to get away from like face-plants. And even though my friends, relatives, and PT people seem to think I’m doing pretty well, I’ve miscalculated on the location of the bathroom pretty spectacularly a few times. Gotta work on my timing.

The only part that’s been fun is when we wrote Yes and Nope on my knees so the doc would have an idea where to cut. At the bottom, he autographed the incision. I named the large plush cat that Dan got me Antonio, after the surgeon.

Mostly, I learned that when I’m in pain, I’m more cranky than usual. Dan is more helpful than usual, and I feel more guilty than usual that I need help and need to ask for it. I’m almost capable of turning on the ice machine by myself. I probably need to get the other knee done next year.

My advice (other than “Ice is your friend”) is this: Don’t scorn anyone’s help. You’re really going to need it. Yes, be as independent as you can, but sometimes that’s just not possible. And, just as with your bipolar meds, take them faithfully at the correct times. Also, as with bipolar disorder, do any assignments your doctor (in this case your physical therapist) gives you.

As with emotional pain, so too with physical pain. Both kinds are real. Both kinds require help from others. If you can get past one, you can get past the other. It may seem like they’ll last a lifetime, but that’s just your mind and your body lying to you. There are things you can do to get rid of them both, though it seems like you can’t.

Depression lies. Anxiety lies. And pain lies to you too.