Going to Camp

With company here tonight, Sophie found a lap and '

loving hands. Nirvana!

When I was a child in Chicago, I dutifully went to summer camp. That’s what city kids were supposed to do. I didn’t really relish the experience—I’ve never been particularly interested in sports—a lackluster swimmer at best, a disgrace on the tennis court, intimidated by horses You get the picture. Badminton was my sport. Yeah, I hated gym class in school too, with those freaky green jumpsuits.

Today I went to camp again—Joint Camp at the Texas Health hospital where I’ll have my surgery. It’s a requirement that you go. Needless to say, I dragged my feet about this. Jordan went with me, partly because she had to take me and partly because they tell you to bring a caretaker with you. And the morning was made more enjoyable by the presence of my good friend Jeannie, who will have knee replacement a month after my surgery. Jeannie, however, is a veteran of joint surgery, and I’m a newbie.

To my surprise, the morning was most informative and useful. Half of it was devoted to what happens before, during, and immediately after surgery; the other half dealt with physical therapy (if you don’t follow through with the therapy, you might as well now go through the surgery).

Am I better prepared emotionally? I think so. The philosophy I apparently the better educated the patient is, he better they’ll do in surgery.

The rest of the day has been a work day—writing a newsletter, this blog, posting a book on a digital network, and writing on my novel in progress. Plus, of course, my nap.  Tonight, we had a small dessert gathering for neighbor Jaimie Smith’s birthday, Once again, I was impressed by the cheerfulness that seems to envelop people when they come into my cottage. And how lucky I am to have such friends.