Let me start with the
doctor. I had a good appointment with my surgeon today—lots of praise, but I
came away feeling a little let down. I asked if I was where I should be, given
what my condition was pre-surgery, and he said “Absolutely.” Pointed out my hip
had been deteriorating for a long time, I had a major bone deformity, and I
hadn’t really walked for six months before surgery. He was, he said with
restraint, pleased with my progress. As we left, he, not an effusive man, said,
“You’re beautiful today,” and I know he wasn’t referring to my looks. He was
saying I’ve made beautiful progress.
But I think I went in
there thinking I was healed, this surgery stuff could be behind me, and it’s
simply not so. He said he expects full recovery for me to take at least a year—and
I’m only six months in. No, I cannot cross my legs. If I bend from a sitting
position, I am to do it slowly, with my left hip bent open, because I’m still
in danger of dislocating it (x-ray shows it is perfectly in place right now).
And the biggie: he was lukewarm
about letting me drive, especially since I drive a VW Bug, with a lower seat
than a traditional car. He demonstrated how I’d have to get in and out, a
technique I don’t really remember. On the way home, Jordan said every instinct
in her was opposed to my driving, so I will wait.
I guess I’m not as
invincible as I thought. Lesson learned
Other than that, a
pleasant day of working and eating, mostly the latter. My daughters and I went
to Pacific Table for lunch. A splurge lunch of crab salad (with avocado,
Manchego, tomatoes, sautéed shallot, and a good vinaigrette) plus a dessert of
sinful ice cream sandwiches
Tonight, a friend from
the seventies came for happy hour with me, Jordan, and Megan. Nancy’s three
children and mine grew up as family friends, so it was great for my girls to
get to visit with her. Turns out Megan often distance-works with the husband of
one of Nancy’s daughters—small world.
Jordan fixed a
magnificent spread, which was our dinner. My contribution was the salmon
spread. We talked about everything from kids and surgery to murder and had a
delightful time.
Now two boys are out here
practicing their cursive writing. I never knew it would be the occasion for
such hilarity—old-fashioned, uncontrollable giggles.
2 comments:
Maybe you need to look at a different car, Judy. I have a huckuva time getting in and out of a car, too, and my daughter and my VA financial custodian both agree that I need one. Right now, he's looking and negotiating for a Ford Edge for me. When my daughter and I flew up to Omaha and rented a car to drive the last six hours to where my mother lives (that's a hard story) a couple of weeks ago, we had a Ford Edge and I had no difficulty getting in and out. There is more leg room in that car than any other I have tried. I have been driving one of the largest pickups and simply cannot handle it very well anymore and chief problem there is getting in and out of it. What is neat about the Edge in addition to getting in and out and the great leg room is the other things it has. A tv to aid in backing up and out of a parking spot, the outside mirrors have sensors on them that warns you if a car is in your blind spot(s) or coming from behind you, and other things that make it so easy for handicapped people like you and me. I am very limited in how far I can drive but this car would definitely aid me. So, my VA custodian (who pays all the bills---I never see them) is shopping for me. It is a little bigger than your bug, but oh so much more convenient for our needs!
Thanks, Randy. I'm sentimentally attached to my 12-year-old VW Bug and have no trouble getting in and out--it's the chance of dislocating the hip and that should diminish over the next six months. What really decided me to be good and quiet about it is my caretaker-daughter's opposition. Since she's the one who has the burden of driving me, I'll abide by her wishes. I also don't want the financial burden of a new car. I'm picky about cars, but I'll call up the Edge and ook at it.
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