Well, I’m back from the Hampshire Clinic, and my long chat with Dr Rossiter – a very nice man if you ever need a knee person, I recommend him highly.
We went through the results of the CT scan, which have been measured “very carefully”, and then were reviewed by Dr Rossiter and all the other consultants at the clinic at their Friday staff meeting, where they share “interesting cases” – and where they demonstrated a unanimous opinion.
The problem – as previosly stated – is that the tibial plateau, the bottom half of the knee joint, has had a chunk knocked off it, as well as some pulverisation of the internals leading to fragments/crumbs floating about.
The bits have been screwed back together, and have not gone back into their original places.
The manner in which the bones have reassembled means that the tibial plateau is fine/unbroken at the rear, and at the front is only 1 to 2mm lower than it is meant to be; however in the midst of the flat, smooth knee-joint surface is a square-edged pit, up to 3mm deep.
This, apparently, is called a die-punch fracture, as if someone had taken a hammer and centerpunch and had punched a square pit into the flat surface of the joint.
The synopsis of treatment he gave me – and the unanimous opinion of his colleagues – was as follows:
- If any of the pieces were 4 to 5mm below their proper positions, it would be a surgical job, and they would be right in there.
- If it were only two or three weeks since the incident, they would operate immediately in order to rectify the issue.
- However, it being 8 or 9 weeks since the incident, there is a strong possibility that any surgical treatment would cause more harm than good to the joint; as such it should be just left, and monitored.
- Thus I should adopt a healthy lifestyle, lose some weight, build up to full weight-bearing over the next month, and (in short) not fuck-up the joint. Be nice to it. Keep the stress off it. Maybe I can get a suitably Eldritch swagger-stick in Bond St?
- From experience of people with the same condition I can expect either to develop arthritis in that joint within the next 5 years – and have it treated in the myriad of ways possible – or else the scar tissue should ossify, fill in the pit, and I can look forward to blissfully ignoring it for the rest of my life.
So I am sitting here at home with a glass of Prosecco – a favourite celebratory tipple, both drier and cheaper than Champagne – quietly celebrating. At least I know what the hell I am doing for the next few months, and can now focus my energies upon what I would like to do, and with whom I wish to do it.
Shame I have a conference call in 25 minutes, isn’t it?
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