The Artist behind the Mask

As of Monday May 14, I was back in the hospital.  For my second major surgery in two years. My right knee was grafted this time though. I  went in for a scope of my knee that morning, and  I was released that day with a  grafted knee. I wasn't prepared at all this time. My knee specialist didn't tell me before that morning that he could graft the knee. If  the results from the scope revealed that I needed the graft. So, I'm caged  once again. I believe the recovery time is only 8 weeks. That can't compare to the 4.5 months that  I spent on crutches when my thigh bone head was grafted.

The late Rick James said " Cocaine is a hell of a drug". Prednisone is also a hell of a drug. That med did more damage than good. If I had known that the med could cause bones to decay (a condition called Avascular Necrosis/AVN), I highly doubt I would've touched the med. The bone grafts to correct my AVN issues are never pleasant.  It seems like the last several years has been filled with pain in my life. My knee actually doesn't feel too bad at the moment. I didn't even start using Vicodin until the second day after my graft. My Mother was on my case, since I refused to use pain meds. I caved in eventually,  when the pain kept me up all night. I just hate how Vicodin makes me feel, and I can't see how people would abuse the med. I weened myself off the med over the weekend. I'm not experiencing any real pain, which is odd to me. The first graft was intense, and that first week was very painful.

I still hate being tied to my bed. I get around better on a grafted knee though. I'm trying not to go insane at home. I miss my Drawing group more than anything. The group was my one escape from everything. The only real social time for me as well. After each session, the usual suspects and me would venture out to a pub or bar. I even had a brief something with one of the models. I still wish I hadn't deleted all the posts I made about her here. The way everything went down though...it just didn't make any sense. Anyways, that's a subject for another day. I just want to have some fun.

So, I guess I should discuss my other health issues. On a postive note, the left thigh head healed on it's own. That is one graft that I can avoid. Hopefully, I'm done with grafts now. The thigh is still weak, and a pain to deal with for support right now. The recent MRI showed no signs of the AVN though. I'll blame  positive energy for the healing, and my Mother will blame her family's strong genes...lol. My Orthopedic doctor for my thigh thinks I have tendonitis around the thigh bone head. I was actually talked into getting a Cortisone shot for it. A quick fix, but the med is a steroid as well. i should have known better, and I was miserable for a whole month. The side-effects were too much for me. It was like being on Prednisone all over again.

Remission for my Myositis still seems like a fantasy at times. My Rheumatologist referred me to a Neurologist, and the Neurologist is trying to send me to John Hopkins. JH actually has a Myositis clinic, and I have a number of friends from my support group trying to go there. From all over the East Coast. My closest friend drives from NY to the clinic in Baltimore for her treatment now. I doubt I will ever be "normal", although I look "normal". I'm more health conscious these days though, and Buddhist philosophy has changed the way that I think, and look at the world. Just like my unfinished art though, I'm a work in progress. I'm trying to stay positive, and let my light shine. I just want what everyone else wants. To be loved...to be successful...

I'm the boy in the bubble. I'm the caged bird without a voice.

It finally happened on March 28th. The infamous graft. The Fibular Bone Graft, which would repair the decayed thighbone. I have to say that it was the most painful experience that I've ever been through. My body was engulfed by pain during that first week. Tubes ran through me. The Epidural in my back. The Catheter in my penis. Not a pleasant experience.

At this moment, I would like to thank MCV/The Medical College of Virginia for prescribing the steroid known as Prednisone to me. For not monitoring my condition properly, and allowing the steroid to decay my thighbones. It has definitely been a life changing experience.

I've been home since April 1st. Well, at my Father's house. I don't consider this place my home. The first couple of days back here were hard, but my pain levels aren't so bad at the moment. Staying comfortable has been the struggle. The pain meds keep me drained, and I'm tired of sitting on my bed. I'm tired of hearing the sounds of the outside world. The sun glares through my small window, and I can't put any weight on my leg for six weeks.

In other health related news, I have a Rheumy appointment next week, and I'm curious to see what route she wants to take for my Myositis. I'm still not in remission, and Prednisone is obviously not a choice anymore. I'm down to 2 mgs of the steroid. She doesn't want to explore any new treatments, so I'm frustrated with her decisions. Will this be a pointless appointment?

I woke up early this Sunday morning, thanks to the excruciating pain that was shooting from my right femur head. More then the usual pain, I tossed and turned in my drug induced haze. Saturday was Methotrexate day. Oral chemotherapy. The room felt like it was moving. Another week of dealing with this drug induced hangover. Drug induced fatigue. Great. I couldn’t get the hook of this Three Six Mafia song out of my head throughout all of this.

“I gotta stay fly I I I I I I I I until I die I I I I I I I ”

I couldn’t understand how I was actually up so early. I usually can’t manage to wake-up so early on Sundays. The drug induced haze usually keeps me from church. My mother claims I’m going to hell. I’m not present at a service. Does this mean that my drugs are evil? Do they bare the mark of the beast? LOL. I say that my first set of doctors were evil. They essentially destroyed my femur heads with their so-called treatment.

As time passed by during the grey and cold morning, I could feel some Myositis induced throbbing in my lower back. My muscles were ready to explode, but they never actually explode. Tick tock Tick tock, but no explosion.

So, I was thinking that I’m up for the day. Thinking that I would have a full day to work on some art. That turned out to not be the case though. The fatigue eventually engulfed me during the NFL pre-game show, and I actually slept through the first half of the early game. Unfortunately, not much of anything was worked on today. The Redskins lost by one point, adding to my disappointment of today’s events.