Wash day (and a knee update)

Or "worsh day", as some of my aunts used to say.  It's cloudy and around forty degrees, heading for a high in the mid-forties.  I'm doing laundry and hanging clothes on the line.  My fingers got a little nippy, but otherwise it isn't too bad a day for handling wet clothes.  Google tells me it costs thirty to forty cents to dry one load of clothes in an electric dryer, so at most, I will save $1.50.  Oh well, it's something.  A penny saved is still a penny earned.  
I am down to thirty bucks in my grocery envelope with nine days until Cliff's payday.  I have a list that will probably use $20 of that, but I still think I'll manage without robbing other envelopes.  I'm also making a list of things I'm getting low on that I will buy after we've gotten our funds again.  These are things I would buy this week if I had an unlimited amount of money, but they can wait a few days:  Toilet paper, facial tissues, and so forth.  I think four rolls of toilet paper will last us nine days.  I buy that thin, cheap stuff, you know, but it lasts a long time.
   
I hate to throw food scraps away, and back when I had chickens or hogs, I didn't have to; those critters would eat almost any sort of table scraps except potato peelings.  It occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that the barn cats would probably eat most of our garbage.  We don't have that much.  Well, I've found out they'll eat anything a pig would eat.  This morning I took out a couple of bread heels and two left-over biscuits, and the three cats actually fought over them!  
We've lost two of our feline stalkers; the young cats now stay at the barn when we take our morning walks.  Leave it to the younger generation to fizzle out and let the older folks carry on.  Only Mama Kitty still accompanies us on our walk, when she's at home.  She was gone for three days last week; I can only hope she wasn't out tomcatting.  Of course, that's going to happen some time or other.  You should have seen her devouring her food the morning of her return!  


Here's an update on my knee, for those of you contemplating a knee replacement:  I feel pretty much normal now; the knee no longer swells, even when I'm on my feet a lot, and I haven't needed so much as an aspirin for quite a while.  Cliff says he forgets I ever had surgery, since I'm very much back to my old routine and actually, I sometimes out-walk him.  The only time my knee gets stiff is when we ride for long distances, but all it takes is a few steps to get the stiffness out, once I'm out of the car.  At this point I have no problems and no complaints.  I'm supposed to see the orthopedist in February, but I'm going to cancel, since all she ever does is have a couple of x-rays taken, have me stretch out my leg, tell me to continue my exercises, and ask if there are any problems.  Then I end up with a bill for $50 because Medicare Plus doesn't pay for all of it, and I'm left thinking, "Why am I going back?"  
My right knee, which used to give me as much trouble as my left one, is obviously afraid it's going to be replaced, because it doesn't give me the slightest twinge of pain these days.  One of my home therapists told me this sometimes happens:  You get one knee replacement and the other knee gets better!  Doesn't make sense to me, but so far, so good.  

Therapy. Ugh.

I knew therapy wasn't going to be a walk in the park; I had been warned.  I also know that if you don't do the therapy, the artificial knee will never do the job it's supposed to do.  So, five times a day, I deliberately hurt myself.  At first I timed the hydrocodone in such a way that it helped me through, although I will tell you that therapy was far from pain-free even with such help.  Now I've really let up on the pain meds; most of the time I only take one every six hours.  However, when I get a call from the therapist notifying me he (or she) is coming, I take an extra one.  Those therapists are heartless!  

This is my first exercise, in which I tighten up the thigh and try to put the back of my knee against the bed as firmly as possible.  I do it 20 times, holding for a count of five.  It is a lot more painful than it looks; I've made a lot of progress, though.

This is a leg raise I do with the new knee.  I do this twenty times.  For some reason, the first time always feels like I can't possibly do it, but then the other 19 come fairly easily.

    This one isn't so bad until the therapist comes; when he's here, he pushes down on the ankle while I'm trying to lift it, to give more resistance.  

This is my most dreaded exercise:  I slide my heel up as far as I possibly can, fifteen times.  Then I take a few deep breaths and do it another fifteen times; then I do it yet a third set of fifteen.  When the therapist is here, he measures to see if I'm bending the knee further than last session.  

  This one, my last exercise, is a piece of cake, and I'm getting my foot higher each day.  Again, when the therapist is here, he pushes down on the leg as I lift it, making it much more difficult.  


Since I have to go through this routine five times daily, I usually get started early, sometimes by five A.M.  I'm a morning person.  I always hope to have done all five sessions by 2 P.M., and what a relief it is to have that chore done for the day.


Cliff and I figure this artificial knee must really be strong, to be able to take all this punishment!  

Home sweet home

The staff at North Kansas City Hospital were all wonderful and caring.  The food was great as hospital food goes.  But you know how it is in a hospital:  There is NO privacy.  Somebody has to help you bathe and get to the bathroom, because you could fall and hurt yourself and they would be responsible.  But it does feel so good to be able to go to the bathroom alone!  I feel like half the population of North Kansas City has been mooned by me in the last couple of days, thanks to those open-down-the-back hospital gowns.
I'm doing fine so far.  Of course, as with any surgery, I must be on guard against infection and blood clotting.  This is why I am not shouting from the housetops about what a wonderful recovery I've had, because things could still go wrong.  Not that I expect that, mind you.  I'm on Warfarin to prevent clotting.  
I became somewhat anemic while in the hospital, so it turned out to be a good thing that I had some of my own blood harvested at the blood bank; I received both pints last night as I slept.  I don't have a lot of pain; I'm using a walker and getting around well.  The only time my pain level gets high is when I'm doing the rehab exercises; believe me, they hurt.  But as a hospital worker lectured me, "This is your only chance to get the rehab right; if you don't do it now, you can't go back and fix the problems caused by neglecting it."  
A home health worker will come to the house for a couple of weeks and do some therapy with me, and also keep track of my blood count and vitals.  Cliff stayed home this evening; he'll go to work tomorrow evening, but Granddaughter Natalie is going to come out on the school bus and babysit me and spend the night. 
And that's about all I have to report tonight.