OK, update on my medical crap. Apologies for this web-based mass-market update for friends and family. I spend so much time driving Formula One cars, conducting the Frankfurt Orchestra, and healing lepers that I don’t find as much time as I’d like.
Short versions: I *do* need the repair job on the right CFA (common femoral artery) aneurysm. My surgeon seems really good. He didn’t know how likely I am to have graft failure. I had one without trouble on my left side, but on the right side those guys are zero-and-six. He says it doesn’t matter what the chance of complications is; without a repair worse things will certainly happen. Hey, I’m sittin’ pretty–nothin’ to lose!
He also–this is so comforting!–he also says that infections there in the groin (CFA) area are a worse problem, and more likely. Especially if you have reduced blood flow, which I do.
The surgeon says I can’t have the other repair, the one to take the big bony spikes off my tibia and fibula. (It won’t heal without blood flow, and, stop me if you’ve heard this one!, once again, that’s me. I had hoped to have that “revision” at the same time as the aneurysm repair; he says maybe in six months IF the bloodflow is improved enough.
This means that I’m going to keep having pain and non-healing bleeding lesions on my stump for a while. I can walk a short distance before it gets too bad–mailbox and back, max. I need a crutch for more, and if I had to go shopping or something like that, I’ll be needing the “Blue Lena IV” (my wheelchair) again soon.
My garden is dead or dying, since I can’t do any work on it. I can play with my radios, but I can’t put up any new antennas. I can read, but 8-12 hours a day is all before I get tired of it. On the bright side, my sweet pinheaded dog, Cricket, spends lots of time cuddling. I think she knows I don’t feel good; I just welcome the affection.
Also on the good news / bad news theme, while I’ve had so many radioactive CT scans that I glow in the dark, thanks to them I know I don’t have any NEW aneurysms developing. (Right now.)
The lovely and talented Mrs Ken has had some health stuff going on, too–she’s doing fine but even so, the problems take a toll. She also has to put up with me. Tough on her–*I* can barely tolerate being around me.
So on 13 Sept, I’ll be checking into the D00k Vascular Surgery Bed & Breakfast again. Don’t send flowers–though bottles of top-shelf rum are always a nice gesture. The guy says maybe a week, max. Of course, the last time they said that, I spent 1.5 years in and out of the hospital, mostly from 1 to 3 weeks at a time, up to a ‘personal best’ of six weeks.