I did it. Had my knee replaced this past week. I could have waited, but for what … ? For more pain and less mobility. Last year I had arthroscopic surgery on it, but the arthritis set in and soon my knee was permanently bent. When I walked Emma, it hurt; when I tried dancing, it hurt terribly for four or five days after.
So, I scheduled it, and now it’s over — already a week of recovery, the worst week, the week living on a buffet of drugs. One day I didn’t take them in time, and I learned — there’s a reason why I’m taking these pills. Now I’m beginning to feel a lot better, am more mobile, and am doing physical therapy.
Actually, my recovery was complicated by a respiratory infection I came down with right after coming home (one day after surgery.) I had a fever and coughed and coughed, but it is subsiding too. Friends called to tell me they would take me to the doctor today, but I may not need to go.
I actually went upstairs and slept in my own bed last night after nearly a week on the family room sofa surrounded by all of the things that make a “hospital” room. Time to clean that up. Sleeping upstairs worked out fine. The cat was very happy to have me back, and this morning Emma came up to awaken me just before eight when Vern was arriving for her walk. This meant that Jon got a good night’s sleep. Cynthia will be here at noon today with her little dog Mattie, who deserves a whole blog just about him!
Two friends, Pamela and Michele, took me to Penna Hospital for the surgery (in the city at 5 am) and stayed throughout the day until I was settled in my room. Jon had to do the long night hours with Bo at home last week, and Cynthia came weekdays so he could sleep and she could look after me too. Our friend, Vern, comes every morning to walk Emma, who sits with her nose in the door now waiting for him and his morning treats. She’ll be so spoiled. My friends have all been wonderful — calling, texting, stopping by with gifts.
Bo, meanwhile, has absolutely no idea any of this happened. One day when he walked past me (here on the family room sofa with the walker and a cane propped in front of me,) he looked questioningly and I said I had hurt my knee. “Oh,” he said. Later, I think he said something to Jon that seemed to question hurting myself. He is slowly becoming so remote that he doesn’t seem to connect every day events to anything real. He’s weak, doesn’t eat much, forgets he’s eating, and sleeps on the sofa. (Do I write this in every blog now?) Yesterday he had no idea I am his wife, but then I haven’t been with him for a week. Does it make a difference?