My sister recorded a hilarious video of my little nephew wandering toward her couch, calling my name in toddler-speak, then looking utterly mystified when I was nowhere to be found. How could I not be on the couch? I'm always on the couch, leg up in the air, ice machine whirring.
I had knee surgery last week and I'm camped out at my sister's because I live five hours away from the nearest acceptable knee surgeon. My life has become exceedingly odd. Mostly I stare at my leg, propped up on pillows. Sometimes I read, until I get a headache because it's basically like reading upside down. I try to write, but I have to prop my laptop at such a strange angle I'm afraid it's going to fall on my head.
The tedium is relieved by pain -- in the form of physical therapy. Have you ever done these exercises? Heel lifts for 10 minutes, 3-5 times a day ... quad somethings for two sets of 10, 3-5 times a day ... 15 heel raises two times a day ... or is it one ... and always something kinky with the exercise ball. I have to check my cheat sheet every single time, which makes me wonder if all those pain meds have any permanent consequences. Don't these people know I was pumping morphine through my veins a week ago? Now they expect me to count all the way to 15?
Life gets very exciting when my husband takes me to the physical therapist for a session, and I get to do all those same exercises while looking in a mirror at my grotesquely swollen leg. The therapist keeps telling me how great I'm doing, but it doesn't look great to me -- I feel like an old lady stumping around with a crutch. Luckily my crutch has jagged little ice cleats on the tip, so if anyone makes fun of me I'm armed.
But I have made a new best friend. His name is IceMan and he sits next to me and very kindly circulates ice water through a pack on my knee. I adore this machine like a second lover. How's that for a menage a trois? Me, hubby, and ice-in-a-box. One Wicked Icy Night? (Kelly, take it away!) And of course we'll have to make room for PoolBoy in our lives. PoolBoy will help me swim in a couple months -- I'll have to keep him between my legs while I do all the work with my arms. I'm already fantasizing about him and all the good times we're going to have.
So that's my life in the post-ACL reconstruction era. The bright side is my husband's been taking great care of me. He even went to the bookstore and picked up some paperbacks for me, reading the back cover blurbs over the phone so I could make my choice. "Brooding stranger branded by a secret pain? Yes, I'll take it!" Now that's the sign of a real man.
What I wish I could do is fly Erin Nicholas up and make her move in with me and be my own personal physical therapist. Erin, any chance of that?
I promise I'll share IceMan and PoolBoy with you.
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