Letters from North
America
You
would think the older
you get the smarter you
would be, wouldn’t you?
Opting for two surgeries
ten days apart sounded
good, but wasn’t such a
great idea after all.
I’m glad I’ve done it,
but truth to tell, I
wouldn’t do it again if
I had the chance.
If you ever see a
picture of me (I need to
update the ones in some
of the papers) then you
might notice that I am a
heavy lidded individual.
This means I have a lot
of fat on my eyelids
which makes it hard for
me to see. I can’t
remember the last time I
saw my eyelashes. Are
they even still there?
The rule is that when
the lid droops down past
your pupil then you need
to get them fixed. So I
did.
I came out looking like
I was the loser in a
very uneven boxing
match. Both eyes black
and blue, the lids were
swollen, but I could see
better, so it was a
success. First thing I
noticed in going outside
is how bright everything
seems. Well, after
thinking about it for a
moment you realize that
I’ve been walking around
with an awning over my
eyeballs for years. Once
that came off, then here
comes the sun. The other
good thing is that I
don’t feel so tired at
about 4pm and my eyes
see to be focusing
better than they were
for some reason or
another. So all in all
it was a good thing.
Next up, is a total knee
replacement. Now this
one is a bear. Everyone
I’ve talked to says you
will be happy when you
are finished with it,
but the first couple of
weeks are hard after the
surgery. This is an
understatement.
My right knee has been
torn up for years,
finally just needed to
be replaced and another
one put in. I go into
the hospital at 5am……am
in the operating room by
7am….and from there I am
out of it. I wake up in
the room, stuck full of
needles and bags hanging
everywhere. I’m ok with
this until they come in
and tell me to get up
and walk to the door of
the room. I think they
are kidding….I just got
out of surgery. I am on
pain medicine, I need
some sleep. Nope, they
help me out and off to
the door I go. That
afternoon or perhaps the
next day, I can’t
remember, they put my
leg in a device that
moves it back and forth
so many times an hour.
You must stay hooked to
this contraption for six
to eight hours each day.
Vincent Price could have
used one of these in
some of his movies. This
place is not somewhere
you go to get some rest.
They are in and out of
the room every thirty or
forty minutes, taking
your blood pressure,
taking your blood,
temperature and giving
you injections all over
your body. Some nurses
can give a shot, some
can’t. Those who can’t
can be easily seen in
various places across my
body with large dollar
sized bruises. They
release me after three
days and I manage to get
myself upstairs for some
much needed rest.
Not going to happen… now
comes the physical
therapist. I am
expecting someone from a
German concentration
camp who goes by Helga
but I get this small,
petite lady named Lynn.
I’m thinking no sweat, I
can make this work, but
am I wrong. Lynn has
obviously taken training
from some terrorist
organization as she
knows just what to do to
bring on immense amounts
of pain. She does not
allow me to wimp out and
say I can’t do this
exercise or that
exercise. No, we will
keep on going until we
get it right. You might
just as well gut it up
and do it since she
isn’t leaving until you
have done all of them to
her satisfaction. No
mercy in this woman. I’d
hate to be her husband.
In addition to this, she
can talk to you and
count at the same time.
I’ll think ( I’ll wish)
we’re at number twelve
on one exercise and she
will tell me … ‘No,
that’s only eight…’ I’ll
start her off on some
subject and hope she
forgets the count, but
so far, I haven’t been
able to do so.
All kidding aside, she
is marvelous and is
helping me along much
faster than I had
envisioned. I should be
off this walker in
another week or so and
on my own.
Would I do this again?
Yes, but let’s just hope
it never happens. One
can only be a glutton
for so much punishment.
