So I Cheered Up, And Sure Enough, Things Got Worse!
If you're looking for funny platitudes, this is the blog. My Dad (got rest his soul) was overflowing with wit, mirth and the wry sense of humour that he inherited from me.
Week five (but who's counting) of the osteochondral allograft.
If I hear one more person, as I'm out and about hobbling around on my crutches, tell me about how after their knee surgery, they walked out of the doctor's office and participated in a triathlon (my neighbor actually told me this, I'm not making this up) Or, that after her knee surgery, my other neighbor was back on her surfboard in six weeks............I'm going to strangle them.
Most folks have never even heard of an allograft, would not be thrilled with the idea of having a two inch portion of their bone sawed out of their knee (but happily replaced with living bone :) being instructed to non weight bear for 6-8 weeks, and good progress is considered that you can walk normally in four months.
Last night, Kerry slept on the sofa because he's got a cold and didn't want to keep me up all night with his coughing. I was up most of the night disturbing my bed mate, our black kitty Ruby, in pain, fetching ice packs.
The world turns very slowly these days. One day, I'm encouraged, the next, I'm reduced to considering that alcoholism might not be such a bad idea after all.
My "tell it like it is" daughter, Angela, had no sympathy for me this morning. When I told her the story she said "C'mon Mom, you know you'd be bragging to everybody the same thing if you were back on your surfboard in six weeks." Guilty as charged.
That does it. I'm going to put my surfboard on my living room floor today and get on it. That'll show 'em!