Writing when there is nothing to write about

It is Sunday afternoon and I am a bit lonely therefore I write.

This wasn’t my best weekend ever. It was good that Sammy and Mason spent some time with us Saturday, and it is always good when friends celebrate birthdays, but the remainder of the weekend was mostly a downer. I am just now getting over the ordeal at the surgeon’s office. A bunch of hobbling on crutches, no place for someone in my shape to sit therefore I stood for nearly thirty minutes in the waiting room. I propped myself in a corner and did some book reading on my phone until the pain made me nauseous and I told Carolyn I would have to leave. Luckily, they called me back just at that point. After a long walk came the x-rays; one standing and one laying down. After that, I was herded into an exam room and again started reading, however from a sitting position this time. That is when I heard someone outside say “Man, would you look at that?” I figured there was something exciting on FOX News TV at the nurse’s station. It was actually my doctor looking at pictures of my knee. It was the first one he ever saw with nothing between the knee bones; one side or the other usually has at least some cartilage left for cushioning. This little piggy had none. In some fashion or another, good or bad, I always seem to amaze people when they meet me.

Surgery will take about 55 minutes from the time they slap on the tourniquet until they remove it and I will be in hospital for three days. All this is nominal, of course. Then a couple of weeks or longer of physical therapy at home and I should be good to go after a few weeks of being very careful how I land when I jump off roofs; I’ll just do the opposite of what Mark did. Probably not long after I’m healed, it will be back to have shoulders fixed and by then, the hips which were replaced in 1994 will most likely give out–their life span is usually 12 – 15 years. My cup runneth over.

This old freak entered onto blog on this, the fourteenth day of April, 2013.

Published in: on April 14, 2013 at 4:14 pm  Comments (4)  
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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. They will repair your knee and you will be like a young deer, my friend. RA is a cruel disease but you are a strong fighter and I know you will not give up. I’m sure everything will be well after the surgery.
    I’m sorry that you had to stand in the waiting room. I know that it was painful. It’s strange that it was no sitting place for someone in your shape. If I was Carolyn I would tell them what I think about such scandalous situation.
    I know you have other serious problems but now please think of your knee. Now it’s your problem number 1.
    You’re in my heart and in my mind. We all love you.

    • I don’t worry much about surgery or follow-up care. I think I am allowing a bit extra present pain to interfere with my daily life … and mood. Encouragement from friends like yourself will carry me through and I appreciate it more than you all can ever know.
      In the waiting rooms, a threat to leave usually gets me quick service; I can be a little brat when need arises. πŸ˜‰
      I hope my knee is problem number 1.
      Thank you, friend Jola. πŸ™‚

  2. I’ll have to get a lift for you to get into my truck. πŸ™‚

    • To get me in your truck, place a cold beer–Miller High Life or XX preferably–on the dash and see how fast I can climb inside. Summer will have to watch out for herself; I don’t take prisoners when it comes to beer. πŸ™‚
      Thanks, Mork?

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