My knee replacement: The week-by-week reality

Week 1: Well this isn’t normal!
Surgery Day – 16 December 2025 began calmly enough. At the hospital by 7am, blood pressure checked, chat with the anaesthetist, nurse ticked lots of boxes, then I waited - sipping water, eating nothing - until 3pm! Finally it was time for the op!
Oh dear. The anaesthetist had trouble getting the cannula in. I should have given up then, bearing in mind what subsequently happened!
Something else he couldn’t get in - the epidural. He and the senior bod tried and tried and then wanted to try again (4 times in all), but by this point I felt woozy and like a human pin cushion. So I said “Can’t I just have a general?”
Apparently the operation went well. I don’t remember it - I was fast asleep! Small mercies.
That night, however, was biblical. Pain like I’d never known. I begged for Oramorph repeatedly. I would drift off, convinced I’d slept for hours, only to look at the clock and discover 3 minutes had passed. Two other ladies on the ward held what felt like an all-night symposium and seemed to use the commode competitively. (Thankfully I had a catheter - highly recommended! - but I’d forgotten my ear plugs!) Then when I’d just got to sleep, I was woken up with “Would you like a cup of tea?” At 6:15am! Why? Why on earth is tea necessary before sunrise after major surgery?
Later I tried to sit out in a chair and nearly fainted. I then tried standing and felt sick. Meanwhile other women who’d had surgery the same day as me were casually climbing stairs and heading home. I tried not to compare - but of course I did.
Another bad night - there were tears. In fact there were wholehearted sobs. (I was in a private room by now.) They gave me lots of drugs, including a pessary. It was agony for a couple of hours - truly hell.
The next morning was a bit more positive - I was allowed a shower, then I did the stairs, and it was time to go home! When I had decided to stick with the same consultant as when I lived in Wales, I hadn’t considered how far away the hospital would be from home. The journey home was long. It took nearly an hour. I was going to live to regret my decision!
Anyway, I got home exhausted, sore, and hopeful the worst was over. It wasn’t. In fact, things were only just getting started.
On Saturday I noticed the dressing filling with fluid.
By Sunday morning, it wasn’t contained anymore - it was all over me and the bed.
Back to the hospital we went, and a new dressing was put on.
Believe it or not, the same thing happened in the evening! Clear liquid was oozing out of the dressing, so for a second time in one day, we had to make the long trek to the hospital. This time they kept me in - and I stayed for a few days.
Dreadful days - flat on my back with the foot pumps on to prevent DVT
Dreadful nights - little sleep, relentless pain. Time slowed to a crawl. I remember, one night thinking it must be 6am by now. It was 1.30am!

Week 2: Splints, blisters and Christmas dinner
On Tuesday evening my consultant came to see me. “This is a dangerous situation to be in with an open wound”, he said. “We really don’t want an infection - otherwise I will need to operate to clean the wound.” He then wrapped my leg like a Christmas ham: padded dressing, layers of bandages, splint to keep it straight. I wasn’t allowed to bend it. Not even a little. Not until the staples are removed. The word “infection” hung in the air like a threat.
He finished off with “Obviously with a knee replacement, the idea is to get it bending immediately. It may be that I’ll need manipulation under anaesthetic (MUA) at some point.” It was all a bit daunting to be honest.
I can tell you that the nights got even worse with having to keep the splint on! I lay in bed, still with the foot pumps on, ice packs constantly rotating, and a dawning realisation: this was not standard recovery. I already knew that, really. I’ve already had a knee replacement, 2 hip replacements, and 2 hip revisions. They were all painful of course, but at least the wound healed normally each time!
Christmas Eve I was finally allowed to come home. One nurse later told me that she was surprised I was allowed home - but they were clearing the ward (literally - there were 2 patients not let home who were moved to another hospital).
So I thought the journey home was bad before this hospital stay. Now my leg (I’m 6 feet tall with very long legs) is completely straight! Getting into the car was ‘interesting’ and the journey itself was so uncomfortable.
But it was now Christmas!! It’s normally very busy for me - I’m in the kitchen A LOT. Not this year! My poor son took over. He’d never cooked a Sunday lunch before (he’s 25). The Christmas lunch was all prepped (thank you Celtic Manor), but he was responsible for cooking it and he did brilliantly. I must say, he’s been a brilliant carer - calm, nothing was too much trouble; I couldn’t have asked for better. He carried drinks and food from kitchen to lounge, made me a hot water bottle and took it upstairs for me each night, drove me to all the appointments, - and in the early days would insist on getting me a wheelchair - picked up my prescriptions and if he heard me coming out of the lounge, he’d shout down from his office - “what do you need Mum?” and run downstairs to help me. What an absolute star.
By Sunday, I thought I must be allergic to the bandages wrapped round my leg. The back of my leg was so itchy. There were blisters! Lots of them. I put a piece of cotton in between my skin and the bandages as well as loads of cream. Also, by now, I had learnt how to pick up a crutch from the floor with the other crutch (unbelieveable how many times I had to do this) and I’d remembered how a long shoe horn comes in handy when putting my knickers on!
Sunday night was particularly painful. In the morning, I decided to check what was happening with the wound. Oh dear. It was back to the hospital. Again. Lots of leakage, but also, more dreadful blisters. One was HUGE and filled with liquid! The nurse didn’t think I was allergic to the dressing - just because of the positioning of the blisters - but it’s more likely due to inflammation. Thankfully the Dr decided I didn’t need all the bandages now, and he also said that when sitting, with my leg raised, I could remove the splint. Woo hoo!

Week 3 - Maceration and jealousy
I got dressed! After 2 weeks of being in pyjamas I decided it was time. Although I miss wearing PJs all day and night - they're so comfortable!
Staple removal day arrived: 31 December. The skin was macerated from moisture. It looked raw. Angry. Honestly it looked disgusting. I felt physically sick looking at it.
The consultant had said only every other staple would be removed this time. Most of them didn’t hurt at all - except one. That one was so painful I genuinely thought I might pass out. I needed a wheelchair to get back to the car!
The splint stayed on for another week, until the remaining staples could come out - something I was already starting to dread. The nurse had mentioned that the skin was beginning to grow over them.
I stopped the Oramorph; the morphine was making the itching unbearable. There’s morphine in Tramadol too, but I decided to persevere with that - and I was still taking lots of Paracetamol too.
Meanwhile, an old family friend (a bit younger than me) had the same operation, on the same knee, on the same day as me. He was now off all medication and going out on the bus with just 1 stick. He even went out on New Year’s Eve!
I tried not to compare.
But of course I did.
I tried not to feel envious.
But of course I was.

Week 4: Tears and more tears
Things were getting on top of me by now. I was feeling really low. My knee hurt (the pain felt like a constant pulling, with occasional nails being hammered in for variety), everything felt difficult, the wound still wasn’t completely dry and the days blurred into one another - sitting in the lounge, leg up, watching time crawl by.
On Wednesday 7 January I had the remaining staples removed. It was awful. The skin had grown over many of them. Two nurses examined my knee and admitted they’d never seen anything like it. They counted 6 staples. I told them I’d originally had over 30, and half had already been removed so there had to be at least 15 left. They could tell I was worried. I asked for something to numb the area. And then I cried. Quite a lot. I’d spent the entire week dreading this appointment and it was all spilling over.
They went to find my consultant because the numbing spray they’d hoped to use couldn’t be applied to an open wound. He didn’t want to inject local anaesthetic - too much infection risk - so instead I had gas and air. The last time I had that was 28 years ago when giving birth to my daughter! The consultant removed the staples himself (the nurses told me later they’d never seen a consultant do this), surrounded by a rather lovely junior doctor and the nurses, all encouraging me to “breathe deeply.” When one particularly embedded staple sent pain shooting through me, the junior doctor offered his hand. “I’ll break it,” I warned him. “That’s okay,” he replied “we’re in the right place for that” (we were in fractures and orthopaedics).
Sixteen staples came out. Then an X-ray revealed 1 more hidden inside. I genuinely couldn’t believe it.
I was started on antibiotics. The consultant still wasn’t entirely convinced I wouldn’t need surgery to wash out the wound. I could begin gently bending the knee - but not too much. If the dressing became wet again, it was back into the splint.
On Thursday I spoke to my GP. When I say spoke I mean sobbed. I told her everything - the saga, the lack of sleep, the hours awake in pain. I explained that Tramadol was making the itching unbearable. She was understanding and prescribed Oxypro (slow release). Interestingly, she knew nothing about my op. Turns out my English GP can’t see my Welsh operation notes! How clever is that?! (I later asked the consultant’s secretary to email all details so the GP - and the physio - could see the operation and recovery details.)
Friday was my first physio session. All things considered, she was pleased. After 2 weeks locked straight in a splint, my leg somehow still “wasn’t straight enough”. She gave me a set of exercises. So now I had to both straighten and bend a joint that felt like it belonged to someone else.
The week ended much as it began. With tears.

Week 5: Prescription headaches and small triumphs
How could my op only have been 4 weeks ago? It felt like 4 months! Sleep deprivation was really getting to me.
Another trip to the hospital for my wound to be checked. The consultant’s colleague prescribed more antibiotics. Annoyingly, he hadn’t signed the prescription, but we didn’t notice that. Oh no, if we had we’d have just written it in, but after the chemist wouldn’t accept it, and the receptionist at the GP surgery wouldn’t help, I had to wait for an email to be sent by the consultant’s secretary to my GP with a request for antibiotics. Annoyingly, sleeping tablets were on the first undated prescription - but hadn’t been asked for in the blumin’ email!
One exciting thing - I was told I could shower! I was now allowed to change my dressing myself, so before it needed changing every couple of days I could wrap clingfilm all round my leg and shower! Yes, I could get into the shower - the first time in over a month!!!
On Friday night my son went away for the weekend. I was nervous about being on my own for a couple of nights, but I survived!

Week 6: A midweek spiral
An improvement at physio - my leg can now go straight, and I can bend to 87 degrees!
Another visit to the consultant on Wednesday. There’s fluid under my kneecap - a superficial infection, he said. But if the fluid looked “mucky,” it could mean more serious problems: opening up the wound to clean it, or, in the worst-case scenario, removing the new components and starting over.
After a blood test, I had to wait for the results. And I spiralled. Completely. I was convinced we were heading back to square one - back to theatre, back to the beginning of this whole saga.
The results came back clear. No surgery. No removal of components. I don’t think I’ve ever felt relief like it. The consultant also prescribed Naproxen, which I hope will help with the pain.
Thursday, I went back to my mobility class. P was pleased - he expected my knee to be more swollen (he’d called me a couple of times in recent weeks - he’d advised taking 4000mg of vitamin C a day, and making sure my foot was higher than my heart). The class was exhausting; I’d done literally nothing for over 5 weeks - but I’m glad I went.
Friday brought my first social outing in a while. Just a short trip to the garden centre with 2 friends, but it felt wonderful to get out. To start with I struggled to get in the car. It was a jeep (it’s interesting how some big cars have small door openings). My son must have been watching because he texted me to say ‘don’t force your leg in if it doesn’t want to go in’! How sweet is that / he doesn’t miss a thing!!
I’m surprised at how tired I get after even light activity (or even just a friend popping round for an hour). I suppose I have a lot of sleep to catch up on, and I need to rebuild my strength. Pacing myself is key, but I’m finding the mental side of recovery very challenging.
On Monday (26 January), I met with the pharmacist to review my regular medication. I mentioned the ongoing pain and she prescribed Nefopam to take alongside the Naproxen. I also saw my GP about the wound - it was looking sore and weepy again. He prescribed a third course of antibiotics and signed me off work for February.
I do cry a lot! Anything can set me off - some music, something on the TV, feeling sorry for myself…I guess this recovery is a slow process, with ups and downs. Some days feel overwhelming, but small victories - attending class, getting outside - remind me that I’m moving forward, even if it’s not as fast as I’d like.

Week 7: Taught how to walk! (apparently I’ve been doing It wrong)
Dare I say it, the pain felt more under control! It had only taken 6 weeks, and on Wednesday 28 January I sat in the garden for 20 minutes in WARM SUNSHINE!
Thursday at my mobility class I was officially taught how to walk. Apparently the way I walk “makes me look old.” Excellent. Just what you need at peak vulnerability.
“Stick your pubic bone and chest out, shoulders back.”
P also tried to help me with getting up out of a chair without using my hands - a challenge I’ve struggled with for years. That night, I was awake worrying about it. I was angry with myself for letting it go on for so long, thinking about how to strengthen my legs, how long it would take, and whether I could do anything this week to prepare for next Thursday’s class. I even considered not going back. When I told my boss the next day, she was very honest and thought provoking: “Give yourself a break. You’ve been through many operations that have had a major impact on your body both in terms of restricting movement and causing pain. How were you supposed to know what impact those would have and what could be done about it. You’ve had physios who have probably focussed on just getting you through the initial recovery period. At no point has anyone until P said that it doesn’t have to be this way. The important thing is that there’s hope now and you’ve got the willingness and motivation to try. You just need to focus on the goal and do what you need to do to get there. These things have happened over many many years. Don’t ever assume it’s ‘fixed’. It will be an ongoing battle as it is for everyone. Look around you. The whole of society just puts it down to aging. We spent centuries inventing things to make our lives easier but the result is we’ve ended up unfit and unprepared to be old.”
Another hospital visit! The consultant’s colleague said I need to get my knee bending to 110° to avoid a manipulation under anaesthesia, but the wound looks good and no longer needs a dressing!
Physio measured my bend: 96 degrees! She suggested focusing on standing up before worrying about sitting, and even recommended moving to just 1 crutch.
Another milestone… more progress!

Week 8: Better than last week!
I did some admin at my desk! I am so behind with that sort of thing, but until now I haven’t been able to sit comfortably for long enough. Even managing a short spell felt like progress.
Mobility class, and P was on form. He told me off as soon as I sat down. Apparently, my left leg should be in the same position as the right - otherwise I’m teaching my brain to treat it differently.
Then I was gripping the chair so hard while balancing that he commented on my white knuckles.
Then I bent forward during a couple of exercises when I should have kept a straight back - “Straighten up!” - and on and on he went. He even talked about the way I was walking last week to the whole class. I admitted I hadn’t slept because I’d been worrying about doing sit-to-stand without using my hands. But… apparently I did one exercise better than him, and he said he was pleased with what I can do, considering everything I’ve been through. I’ll take that.
After class, I sat at my table for lunch (something else I’ve not been able to do since the operation), carefully positioning my legs as instructed… and promptly banged my knee on the table. It really hurt!
I’ve managed to get out a couple more times - another coffee at the garden centre (for a bit longer this time!) and a visit to a neighbour for tea.
I’ve stopped taking Nefopam as it was upsetting my stomach, so now it’s just Naproxen and Paracetamol.
At physio, I was pleased to hear my bend is now 102 degrees. She thought my knee was feeling a bit warm - it was feeling sore too - but she said that was likely due to increased movement and blood circulating to the area. I even went on the exercise bike! I had to splay my knees to avoid smashing them into the handlebars. Progress is not glamorous.
And on Sunday… I drove. I went to the shops in my car. Thankfully it’s an automatic and the new knee is my left one. I walked to Boots and then Superdrug. My back and hip really hurt, so I’m clearly not walking properly yet, and I was absolutely exhausted afterwards - I had to lie down for a while. But I went out. On my own. In my car. There’s nothing stopping me now!
So, to summarise
This has not been the straightforward knee replacement story I imagined.
It’s been messy. Leaky. Emotional. Humbling.
But I’m still here. Still bending. Still walking (with my pubic bone proudly leading the way).
I have another appointment with the consultant on Friday (13 Feb). He’ll decide whether I need that manipulation under anaesthesia. I don’t think I will. I may not be at 110 degrees, but I’m not far off.
I’ve got 2 more weeks before I return to work - 2 weeks to rebuild strength, catch up on sleep, and steady myself.
I will get there.
One tiny step at a time.


What got me through 8 weeks of knee replacement recovery
A long shoe horn
A tool for putting socks on (you put the sock on the tool, put your toe in the sock, then pull the ribbons)
Pain relief that works - and don’t wait until you need it - take it as soon as you’re allowed
Ice packs (really help with the pain when you still have a couple of hours before needing pain relief)
A carer (I would hire my son out but…!)
A TV - I’ve watched a lot of series and films during my recovery period, and particularly enjoyed:
Series:
Celebrity Traitors
Land
Emily in Paris
Red Eye
Far Away
Steal
Abandons
The Morning Show
Bridgerton
Take That
Olympics skating

Films:
Goodbye Joan (very sad - I sobbed my heart out)
I swear (brilliant main lead)
Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale (not bad)
Rose (beautiful)
The Holdovers (a gentle story)
Nuremberg (a bit of history!)
Anniversary (worrying how easy these things can happen)
Twisters (edge of the seat stuff)
How to please a woman (very funny)
The Notebook (how have I never seen this before?!)

Don’t live in the moment when things are bad - just focus on what you need to do now:
make sure you do the exercises regularly
cry if you need to
watch tv or listen to music, or podcasts, or meditate to try to take your mind off things - even for just a few minutes
drink plenty of water and try to eat healthily
do not compare yourself with others - remember that everyone is different

However bad things are, they will get better.