Knee replacement rehab

Two topics everyone talks about after knee replacement are extension and range of motion. Y'all often hear these questions: “Did you get to 120 yet?”“What’s your flexion?”I do believe that they are both equally important. I don't think one overwrites the other. This blog is gonna focus on only extension.Getting your leg completely straight. That's the goal.With my first knee replacement, extension came back quickly. About three weeks in, I had it. By six weeks my range of motion was sitting at 120 and things felt balanced.My second knee? That had a totally different personality.

I had a distinct advantage going through my second knee replacement that I didn’t have with my first. And it had everything to do with my physical therapist.First, let me begin by saying that for my first knee replacement, I left physical therapy up to chance. I actually fared quite well because my physical therapist was very informative. What I didn’t know at the time was that physical therapists are trained at the same level as medical doctors. The main difference is that they don’t go through a medical residency, but their training is extensive.When I had questions, I asked him. And he explained things in the level of detail I needed to understand. That turned out to be a Godsend.So, for knee number two, I did it the exact same way. I went to the same physical therapy clinic because I already knew it. However, my original physical therapist was no longer there, so I worked with whoever was available. It was still a very nice clinic, and the people were friendly.

When I was prepping for my second knee replacement, I decided to think of it like a vacation.If I were going on vacation, what would I take? What would I need to get me through a week away from home? Those same items became the ones I needed for my knee replacement. That’s what went into my “suitcase.”Now, if you read yesterday’s blog, you know recovery is ultimately a solo job. You’re the one doing the work, and that’s exactly why the planning matters so much. Just like a good vacation, preparation makes all the difference in how smooth the trip goes once you get there.Let’s start with the basics.

That’s why I leaned hard on analogies—things I had done before that felt familiar. One of the strangest but most helpful ones? A vacation.Think about it. When you travel, people can help you along the way, but at the end of the day it’s your ID that gets checked, your bag that gets weighed, your stomach that processes food to keep you going. Recovery is the same. You may have family, friends or neighbors cheering you on, but it’s still your body, your strength, your healing that carries you forward.The more I sat with that, the more it made sense. Vacations don’t always go smoothly. You’ve probably had a trip where something went sideways—a delayed flight, a lost reservation, or weather that canceled your plans. But you figured it out. You adjusted, you pivoted, and in the end, you still made memories.

Here’s the thing about a second knee replacement. It’s not just the logistics—getting your house set up, stocking the freezer, making sure you’ve got your walker or ice packs ready. The harder part? It’s what your brain does the minute surgery number two hits the calendar.I know real well what this is like because this is where I was at. If you’ve already been through knee number one, you know what I’m talking about. Suddenly, every single memory from round one comes rushing back. The heavy nights. The pain medicine. The emotional swings. Even if your first recovery was smooth, your brain has a way of replaying the hardest parts on loop.I’ve been there, and let me tell you—you’re not crazy if you feel more nervous before the second one than you did before the first. For me, I think I was more anxious leading up to my first knee replacement, but I was definitely more anxious the day before my second knee replacement than I was the day before my first.

One of the things I hear often is how frustrating it feels to still be walking with a limp after knee replacement. And honestly? My heart goes out to anyone in that spot. Because it shouldn’t have to be this way.Most of the time, limping months after surgery isn’t about lack of effort. It’s usually because no one reminded you that keeping your assistive device a little longer can actually protect your healing, not hold it back.I keep it real and authentic over here so a little of my own story for you!  I let go of my walker earlier than I probably should have—because we were throwing a birthday party for my husband with 75 people in our house. I didn’t want to be the one limping around with a walker that day, so I grabbed my cane. As soon as the party was over? I went right back to my walker because it was my security.The truth is, everyone’s timeline looks a little different—and it’s influenced by what you bring into surgery. 

If your surgery is coming up next week and you feel like your emotions are all over the place… you’re not alone.I’ve been there. I remember that final week countdown before my second knee replacement. I had done it before, and I knew I was going to be okay. But even with that knowledge, my body started reacting in ways I couldn’t ignore. I found myself deep cleaning, organizing random things, and staying busy just to avoid what I was really feeling.What I realized later was this: my nervous system knew something big was about to happen. Even though I kept telling myself “I’m fine,” my body was processing what my mind hadn’t fully acknowledged yet.

I know what you might be thinking—rejoice? In this pain?Trust me, I’ve asked the same thing.After my knee replacement, I had days when I sat in my recliner with tears in my eyes and a body that just... ached. My knee throbbed, the scar was red and angry, and I barely recognized the body I was living in. Sleep was scarce. Independence felt distant. And if you had handed me this verse on one of those days? I probably would’ve set it down gently… or not so gently.But one morning, I read these words in Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:

If you’re facing knee replacement surgery, chances are you’ve already said the words: I’m terrified. I’m petrified. I’m scared out of my mind. Those are heavy words. And they’re real. The truth is, most of that fear comes down to one thing — the unknown.Nobody really prepares you for the mental and emotional side of this surgery. Your surgeon will tell you what the procedure involves. Your physical therapist will walk you through exercises. But who sits you down and says, “Hey, let’s talk about the fear you’re carrying”? That part usually gets skipped, and it’s exactly what most of us need the most.

It’s easy to think of want as something shallow — like, “Sure, I want a good outcome, but that’s not up to me.”But actually... it is.Desire is what gives your want meaning.Desire turns “I hope I get better” into “I will do whatever it takes to recover fully.”And that’s exactly what I did.