It’s been seven days and 12 hours since the insertion of the New Toy for June. This New Toy, like most things in this electronic age, is somewhat less than plug and play, although it’s clear, even in these early days, that the New Toy is infinitely preferable to the Old Hip.
Here’s the tidy graphic that St. Vincent’s Handbook puts out as illustrative of what happens with a hip replacement”
Here’s what the slightly messier X-ray looked like — the bad hip is on the right of the screen (but it’s the left hip — got that? — Jer initialed the properly bad hip for the surgeon before we left the house for the hospital).
Jer says this is a pretty picture, but I’m not so sure. For one thing, I don’t think I’ll be able to paint the muckle (on the right) of the mash-up of lights and darks adequately. I’m sure I could do a better job of painting the amazing bruises that are now traversing their way through my leg (it looks much worse today than it did on Sunday). I made Jer take photos of the bruises as he mucked about with the bandages, because I was literally in no position to see what was happening. However, I think I have too much vanity to disclose them in public. Perhaps I will use them as an (angst/sturm und drang/Oh woe is me!) prompt for a series of paintings .
On the other hand, since the surgery has occasioned such goodies as Trader Joe’s chocolate covered orange sticks from John and Susan Saling, as well as a hilarious hour spent talking about our respective worst jobs, I fear the angst won’t ring true.
I continue to circle the house with the walker, read Janet’s mysteries (finished four and have two more started, but think I’ll start Larsson #2 tonight), allow Jer to pamper me outrageously, and try to remember the rules of New Toys. “Bad leg Out,” yells Jer, from the kitchen when I get up to go to dinner. “Right” I mumble meekly. He hasn’t seen me this meek since, well, perhaps never.
Then, because I am weak and wan and have just been ordered about, I make him get me another chocolate, . Of course, later, I get my own chocolates — part of the exercise routine, of course. –June