I had an unfortunate little incident last Sunday involving my poor massacred knee. My parents left me on Saturday to head back to their lives and took little Duncan with them (rather begrudgingly, but they did it all the same) since I’m not really in the physical shape to look after him. So, left to my own devices, and determined to be a big girl who showers and dresses on her own after surgery, I went about my regular morning activities. I made some cereal (success), went upstairs to brush my teeth (slow, but success there too), and then had a shower (no success whatsoever).
It started out innocently…I gingerly put my good leg into the shower, all too oblivious of the slippery bath oil I had used in the tub the night before. I know you know where this story is going, readers.
My good leg slipped out from under me and in an effort to catch myself, I straightened my bad leg. Just for the record, immediately after surgery, knees don’t straighten very well. I thought I was DYING.
Lacking a solution to my inability to get up, I laid on the floor for an hour and a half, naked, cold, and wet from the shower. I know. NOT a pretty image. Okay…and I admit, I called my mom and cried. In my own defence, she’s a nurse. I thought she might have a magical solution for feeling like my leg was falling off.
And really, all I could think of was if Ben was there, this would be so much easier! He’d come running upstairs and put all those gym hours to good use by hauling all 155 pounds of me (that’s right…proud of every pound!) onto the bed so I didn’t have to writhe in pain on the laminate flooring. Alas, no Ben. Just me. And thankfully, some very heavy pain medication.
So other than some split open stitches, I survived the rest of my first day alone. I’m still gimping about but holding out faith that next week when I go to my check up, they tell me they’ve fixed me for good, my military career can continue and I will be pain free.
But right now, pain free feels a WORLD away.