Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I Knew I needed my New Knee Now

I Knew I needed my New Knee Now.

Well, it’s been a while since I sat down at my laptop to jot out a note. I am actually in the third week of recovery after knee surgery. I have finally scaled down on my pain meds enough to tell night from day and have stopped sitting in my chair with a drool towel, staring at spots on the wall,
taking swipes at attack bats.

Actually, after three days in the hospital, I was finally in my own bed, sleeping soundly and very well sedated. During that first night, I was lying on my side, with my right arm between two pillows and with my hand hanging out the end. Somehow, I woke up enough to see my hand, fingers wiggling at me and was convinced it was a monstrous spider from hell trying to kill me.

I leapt into immediate action and did everything I could do to kill it, before it got me. I woke up from the pain caused by me trying to bite it to death.

I understand that people even do illegal things to gain access to these kinds of pills. That is a great mystery to me.

Well, I am now back in a decent relationship with my hand and even my wife has hope that I am returning to normal life again. I am walking upright, without walker or cane and even gone out to eat. Life is good again.

Getting through this process took more than just surrendering my knee. Just signing into the system took hours longer than the operation itself. By the time I went through various levels of interviews and tests, each with its own color coordinated wristband and numerous sheets of waiver of rights declarations, I had forgotten exactly why I was at the hospital.

I even had to sign several releases that told them what to do with either my non-functioning body or my dead body, and sundry body parts should things not go well. I think I had to agree that if I died, it was all my fault and not theirs’ or the doctor whom they said actually did not really work for them.

My attitude was, “Hey. Whatever, just get me the pills.”

I can’t complain too much. While overdosing on TV this week, I wondered who would ever want to buy something from a furniture company in the area that was advertising its goods and finishing off the TV ad with a half second flash full screen of microscopic fine print. Now that was scary. Glad I don’t need a new chair.

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