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Archive for January, 2010

Movies

I’ve mentioned often that I’m a movie fanatic.  One of the advantages of being “laid up” is the freedom to watch TV and films without guilt.  I still feel a hold-over from my dad which said that watching a lot of TV was really a waste of time.   Ironically, though, when we are without electronic connectivity (I can’t believe I actually used that term) for any length of time we really miss computer access more than TV.  However, don’t let either one of us be without a book for long.  We’re liable to start snarling.

Tonight on all the major networks is a fund raiser for the earthquake victims in Haiti.  A noble cause I know.  Our church already announced that they would be collecting money for Catholic Relief Services soon.  (By the way, a large shipment landed in Haiti today supplied by CRS.)  However, long ago I discovered that the telethon for Jerry’s Kids could get really long and tedious after a while.  The nature of fundraising is like that.

So — tonight will be a movie night, compliments of Netflix!

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Driving Miss Kathy

Bruce has been a wonderful caregiver following my knee surgery.  He drives me, runs errands, does the shopping and, in general, sees to all the everyday tasks we take for granted.

I keep forgetting that it has only been a little over a month since the surgery.  The doctor is pleased with my progress as is my physical therapist.  On the other hand, I come home from an appointment tired and ready for a nap.   Three days in a row this week I had meetings and appointments.  Yesterday I paid the price.  I was tired — really tired.  We went out to a movie for my birthday and were planning to head out for steaks afterwards.  Toward the end of the film, I could feel an episode of atrial fib coming on.  It’s an irregular heartbeat and makes me feel “wonky”.  We grabbed a sandwich and came home.  I crawled into bed and within a few hours was back in rhythm and feeling fine.  The heart problem is brought on by stress.  Fatigue is stressful.  So — plenty of rest is the answer.  I know our bed with its fluffy mattress pad, memory foam and down comforter is the most comfortable place in this house.  Woe, oh woe.  What a toughie.

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“She’s Back”

If I’d blogged as often as I’ve thought about blogging, you would have little time to do anything but read my stuff.  However, if you’ve ever been on pain killers, you’ll remember that thinking and doing are worlds apart.

Nurse Bruce brought me home from the hospital two weeks ago tomorrow after five days.  Everything went much as planned.  The cardiologist said I would have an episode of atrial fibrillation three days after the surgery, and I did.  The orthopedist said I might need a blood transfusion, and I did.  One great advantage was having had the surgery three years ago on the left knee; I was pretty prepared for this time.

Several differences I noticed between a civilian and army hospital.  I walked to the prep room before my surgery.  Forget about wasting a gurney on a perfectly ambulatory person.  I walked the corridors and took the elevator,  with an escort, not wearing my glasses, which does qualify me for a guide person, until we got to the room where they give you the sexy blue cap you get to wear, then they found me a gurney.  However, once in the operating room, the army took its time.  No need to rush when there is no accountant performing a time/motion study.  In both places a surgical resident notes with a marker on the knee itself which they’ll remove.  I guess that was more significant the first time.  This time they would have noticed.  I saw my army surgeon much more often (and for longer periods) and sometimes he even had an entourage with him.   I did chide the docs for not laughing at my jokes.  (They are serious young men, aren’t they?)  The first time my civilian doc commented that he had to hunt for me on the cardiology ward after my a fib episode.  (Didn’t someone call and tell him they had to move me??)  It wasn’t like I planned an escape, however, that has always crossed my mind in a hospital.  If I could have had Bruce pull the car up to the back door, I thought I might steal a wheelchair and make a break for it.  However, he was having none of such shenanigans.

Anyway, I’m home and in my rehab program and Nurse Bruce is taking good care of me. The staples came out Monday and I got to celebrate with a real nice long and hot shower.  Oh yeah . . . .

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