Before the home therapist stopped coming, he asked me, "Do you plan to have your other knee done?"
"Not unless it gets worse than it is right now," I answered.
"Well, if you ever do, don't expect it to go this smoothly."
It seems I've done everything ahead of schedule, starting with my getting out of the hospital after only two nights.
At this point twenty-three days after surgery, I don't have much pain. I haven't taken a hydrocodone for two days, and don't plan to take another until a couple hours before I go to therapy on Friday. Then I'll take two, because those therapists are brutal.
Now that I'm much more active, muscles all over my body are starting to wake up and squawk; they all thought I retired them three weeks ago. For that muscle pain, I take ordinary, over-the-counter, generic Tylenol.
Up until yesterday I couldn't become enthusiastic about fixing meals. I searched for any and every excuse to either eat out or have sandwiches, and I wasn't all that excited about eating, either. Oh, I cooked, but it was a half-hearted effort. Poor Cliff didn't complain. I developed a craving for peanut-butter-on-whole-wheat-bread sandwiches over the past couple of weeks, and that was a frequent supper for me.
Yesterday afternoon something stirred in me that headed me back to a more normal state of mind. I went out and pounded four steel fence-posts in the ground for some tomato cages; I walked back on the point to see if the river bottom was flooded (it isn't... crops are growing there). I made some Jello for Cliff (I'm not a fan of Jello), and put some pinto beans to soak overnight. Today we had corn bread and beans for dinner.
Yes, folks, I do believe I'm back... it's really me! I still tire easily; there's still swelling in my knee. But my walking speed has picked up until it's almost normal. I even slept pretty well last night.
Cliff, meanwhile, is anxiously awaiting retirement. After this week, he has four weeks left to work. We've had temperatures in the mid-nineties, and his place of employment isn't air-conditioned. Not only that, there are ovens going that super-heat the building even more. When Cliff had open-heart surgery, the doctors told him he wasn't to expose himself to temperatures over eighty-five degrees, but he really had no choice if he was going to work. It will be so great for him not to have to go into that fierce heat again during the summer.
I've been checking and double-checking our budget; we finally got the official word that Cliff will receive his first Social Security check in July, and I will get an increase in mine at that time. Several people have told Cliff that the hardest part of living on Social Security is getting used to one payday a month. Since I'm already using the envelope system for groceries, clothing, pet expenses and prescriptions, I don't see that anything will change that much. When the envelope is empty, I don't buy any more until the next month. Of course, the doctor-and-prescription envelope might have to have some help in emergencies, but we have a fund for that.
Before my surgery, I debated whether I should ride the motorcycle again; my doctor, of course, is against it. I've almost decided now that I probably will ride again. When old folks buy a motorcycle, they're taking a risk every time they get on the thing, so what's one more risk? A busted knee replacement would probably be the least of my worries. That's where I stand on the situation today; who knows how I'll feel tomorrow.