I've spent most of the last week in the recliner chair in my living room. Recuperating from knee surgery for a torn miniscus. It is slightly depressing that it wasn't an injury, per se, but a "getting older, wear-and-tear" type of thing. Over the past year or maybe two, I've had pain in my left knee that started as being occasional and slightly irritating, to being more and more frequent and more and more severe, to the point of being somewhat debilitating. Finally, a couple of visits to the orthopedist, an x-ray, and an MRI got us to the diagnosis of arthritis and a torn miniscus. So a week ago last Friday, I went in for arthroscopic out-patient surgery. Not a big deal. I went in at 8:30am to prep, was taken back to the OR at 11:00am, and was home by 4:00 pm.
My wonderful friends have been bringing meals for my family, and Amanda has taken Jason to his classes/practices all week. So I took my pain meds and sat in the recliner with my leg up most of the week, getting up occasionally to hobble around on crutches, and after a few days, to venture out without them. Still some soreness, stiffness.... I go back to the doc for my post-surgery follow-up appointment tomorrow, and hopefully will set up some times to meet with the physical therapists to get this leg on the road to strength and flexibility again!
thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you to everyone who prayed, brought a meal, sent a note, or just stayed out of my hair last week! :-)
As I've been sitting in my recliner, I've taken the opportunity to read a book for pleasure - usually I read for a purpose, for information, for preparation for something. But this time I read The Help, by Kathryn Stockett. I saw the movie a few weeks ago with my daughter and some friends. Great movie! Wonderful book!
Yesterday afternoon we mourned with some dear friends who lost their baby boy at 6 months gestation. He was child number 6, son number 3, grandchild number 12. His parents and siblings were so excited as the date of his arrival was getting closer, and preparations were underway ... the crib came down from the attic, other baby items were being recollected from various friends and family, anticipation over having a baby in the house again after 4 years was building. Every single life - even when a breath has not yet been taken - is precious and so full of expectation and possiblity. There was a small memorial service at the funeral home, and friends and family joined together in sorrow, but also in hope and a shared assurance that this child was in heaven and there will someday be a reunion with those who live him so much in the here and now.
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