It’s been a very long day. It’s been a longer five weeks and I feel like having a little bit of a whine. I’m due.
I’ll keep it brief. I limped around for a few weeks on a bad knee before one day it just quit me with a loud pop. Lots of drama, x-rays, nine days in a wheelchair, now a fancy rolling walker, MRI, knee specialist, more x-rays, knee specialist scratching head, that sort of thing. Maybe cracked bone, certainly bruised bone, maybe torn meniscus, osteoarthritis from old injuries, Doppler for blood clots, found none. Like that. Surgery on April 3rd.
April 3rd. The pop heard round the campus was five weeks ago. April 3rd is 2 1/2 weeks from now. The rolling walker, not nearly as sexy as the one above but almost, is getting old. The pain is getting old. I’m also getting old. Rapidly.
I’ve kept a sunny disposition thus far, but I’m flagging. Everyone has been helpful beyond words – all my classes moved in one building, folks helping with Em and The Perfect Grandson, rides to and from work, even concierge service in the rain since I can’t hold the umbrella and the walker simultaneously. Em has been my legs around the house and an angel.
I know there are people out there much, much, MUCH worse off than I am. This is temporary and I’ll get over it. But in the meantime, I can’t pick up The Perfect Grandson or babysit him while his mom’s in class. I can’t lift him out of his bed in the morning for our conspiratorial, dark-thirty goofing off. I miss it all something terrible.
I’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning with a new and grateful attitude. A little sleep does wonders. So do anti-inflammatory drugs. Eighteen more days. I can do this.
No Telling 
All that do suck verily but, after surgery, you’ll have really good drugs. I’m just saying.
Monda, my dear, when one is in pain &/or scheduled for surgery, one never, ever has to apologize for the occasional whine. That be the rule.Don't you hate when doctors scratch their heads? Not a reassuring gesture. At all. Although I'd much rather see them doing that than pretending they know something they don't.
you can do it!
I’m with Kathi on this one. When you are in pain, you are. And just remember, just because someone else acts like they are in more pain may just mean they are a bigger wuss. Or they like to whine. I am glad you can see an end, though. That has to be better than not seeing an end…Hang in there. Thanks, by the way, for stopping by this morning. That made my day.Laura
Hell yeah, you can do this! You’re the toughest thing in lacy underwear. Whine all you want, it makes us all more grateful for our working bendy parts.Mike
I brightened up, just like I figured I would. Great day in class and fabulous students.Candace – I had really good drugs at the onset but they took them quickly away. You should see the damage I did to my house with that wheelchair while I was benumbed.Thanks Kathi. I think I’m finished whining for a bit now. That osteo guy is very nice to look upon, so there’s that.Abby, you’re such a good cheerleader! You need some pompoms.I’m glad we chatted today, Laura. We should dish the dirt more often. And thanks for reminding me about the end, because there will be an end to this and I’ll be the same lively 25 year-old I was before this happened. Yep.Oh, Mike. I plan to rally just in time for the Summer Institute. Cartwheels and such. I’m glad that in the meantime I can be a cautionary tale for everyone and their bendy parts.