Gotta have help

It’s the day after surgery. I am trying to write something that makes sense in spite of the Oxycontin induced fog in which my mind floats.

A rough night preceded this morning. There were tests to be run and medication administered. Getting up to go the restroom was a bit of an ordeal. And at some point, during the early AM hours, a large man loudly entered our room, slamming the door, turning the lights on, and demanding my blood. I awakened startled and yelled at him, “Who are you and what do you want?” Turns out he really was there to get blood from me, and after Vicki calmed me down, he adeptly extracted a couple of tubes full from my arm and went on his way. We thought that he must be under great pressure to collect from all the patients on the floor in a short amount to time.

I was greeted a couple of hours later by physical therapists that got me to do some basic things. I lifted my leg, flexed my feet along with a few muscles in my legs, and they were quite pleased. In fact, it ends up that it was a good investment to do hard work outs to strengthen myself for a quick recovery.

Later in the day I was able to walk down the hallway, using a walker for support, and taught how to navigate a flight of steps. Then I was given clearance to go home.

Above all else, you really need to enlist some help, if you are going to do this TKR thing. Vicki has been tremendous, making sure I take my meds at the right time, and that I do what I am supposed to, using all five feet of her stature to keep me in line as is necessary. My daughter, Morgan, son Jordan, and daughter in law Faina also came along side me to help me go home the day after surgery.