Friday was the last day I felt oblivious about surgery. I dressed up and went to a university function with my husband.
No one there knew how knobby my knees were or how the left one can’t bend more than 90 degrees. Nope. I was just Lynn in a dress and a great bra, and wearing a smile. I had a lot of fun forgetting.
But, it will happen, and it’s a good thing. It’s time to take care of this knee. So in light of surgery on Wednesday, I bought a few things to help make the everyday things we take for granted a little easier, and I did a few things to help me feel better all around.
First up, I bought myself the Cadillac of toilet seats. I mean this thing is large and in charge and has its own zip code. I’m a queen on a throne. My toes barely touch the floor and there’s very little bending of the knees required. I’m set.
Larry will install a hand-held shower head so I’m not wedded to sponge baths for six weeks, and his secretary’s mother had similar surgery 10 years ago and has a shower chair I can borrow. Yay!
Yesterday I made and froze several black bean burgers and a batch of red lentil tomato soup. I won’t be able to reach my toes for awhile, so today I had a pedicure, and since I’m carrying most of my worry in my neck and upper back, I had a massage. I also took another long walk – something I will do tomorrow, too. I’ll never take walking for granted again.
T minus 1.5 days.
I woke up once last night wondering where I was, like when I stay in a hotel. Unlike a hotel, though, the bed is familiar, and like my new potty chair, it’s pimped out and comfy with a memory foam mattress topper, my favorite blanket and lots of pillows, my favorite being my water pillow. Best. Pillow. Ever.
Sleeping downstairs, while the sounds are familiar, they’re a lot closer. The neighbor’s dog was out for her last evening potty break, and her bark cut through the darkness like a warning – (Is there a bear out there? A skunk? A raccoon?) – unlike in the daylight when everything feels safe.
There were fireflies near my window, glowing and fading, glowing and fading. The half-moon lit up the pseudo nightstand where my computer table used to be. The moon doesn’t shine and fireflies don’t glow in my window upstairs. What a treat they were to observe.
In a week or so this differently-utilized space will feel normal, but like any change, it just takes some getting used to. Like this surgery, it’s an adventure.
This will be my last blog for a few days. I’ll be in touch when I can from the hospital on my Lynn’s Weigh Facebook page if you’d like to join us over there. In the meantime, I wish you all a good, on-plan week, and I thank you so very, very much for all of your kind support.