Around the living room in 80 days

As of today, exactly 80 days have passed since June 7.

I was in a hospital for six of them. Which means, thanks to my lightning-quick mental calculation skills, I have been in this house for … 74 days.

I’ve been living within these walls for every hour, every minute, every single second of every one of those days. Well, with the exception of about 11 times, for short trips. By my best guesstimation, those add up to about 13 hours.

So, that means, subtracting that time … I’ve been living within these walls, nearly non-stop, for 1,763 hours. That’s 105,780 minutes. Which also is 6,346,800 seconds. Or maybe 62.7 bizzillion nano-seconds.

Hmmmm … very interesting. Explains a lot.

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“What was that? What were you saying, I couldn’t hear you.”

My wife is down the hall, sitting in the computer room and yelling out to me. I am in the where-I-am-living room.

“Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Rocky.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said I was talking to Rocky!”

“You’re talking to Rocky.”

“Well, yes. In a manner of speaking.”

“You’re talking to Rocky, in a manner of speaking.”

“Yeah. I’m talking to Rocky, and he’s listening. It’s a manner of speaking. Sort of.”

“Don’t make me get up and count your pills again.”

“Shhh, Rock. Hold that thought. I’ll get back to you when the coast is clear.”

I hear you … I don’t know what you’re saying, but I hear you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi hon, it’s me. Whatcha doing?”

“Hello dear. I know it’s you. We have caller ID at work.”

“Oh, what cutting-edge technology that is. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if I can use the credit card.”

“Why do you need to use the credit card? You’re at home. What for?”

“I’ve been watching this really educational program on TV and if I call and order within the next 20 minutes, they’ll double my order, the same price as one, just pay additional shipping and handling.”

“You’re watching infomercials.”

“Right, we’re talking lots of info here. And if I call in the next 17 minutes, they’ll double my order and I’ll get two 16-ounce Real-Rubber-in-a-Cans instead of one. I want to spray it on the bottoms of my feet and see if I can bounce my legs up onto the couch instead of hooking them with my cane and pulling them up. I think we’re talking a potential medical miracle here. So, whatdaya say.”

“Sigh – I’ve got to get a padlock for that medicine cabinet. I’m hanging up now.”

I dunno – it sure sounded like a good idea to me.

I’m not dead … I’m feeling better!

“It’s going to take at least three months.”

“You never told me that.”

“Yes, I did. You’ve had two total knee replacements done within the span of six weeks time. That’s two major surgeries, one nearly right after another. That means a lot of muscle, bone and nerve pain and healing. And all that takes time, at least three months, and that’s on the optimistic side.”

“You never told me that.”

“Yes, I did. The pain and discomfort will be with you for quite a while. Your rehab and return to normal is going to take a long time. You know it’s getting better, but it often can be a slow process.”

“You never told me that.”

“Yes, I did. You knew it would take time, which is why you need to be more patient. And also that there’s no reason for you to be concerned about asking for refills of your pain meds.”

“Thank God you told me that. Tell me again.”

I mean, really, in the grand scope of things, what I had done can’t even be called a flesh wound.

Well, hello there.

So nice to be feeling alive, nearly human and almost funny enough to be writing again. Today, logging back on here for the first time in forever, I discovered a profoundly gratifying thing – many of you have continued to visit and have been reading old bits of my blog often and regularly, despite my far-too-long MIA status.

To everyone, thank you. Seeing something like this tells me two things. One, that I better get writing right away before the crap in the archives gets so old it’s beyond mold, and no one ever comes back.

And two, some of you must have even better drugs than I do.

Thank God for that.

Second verse, same as the first …

What’s even funnier than a blogger with one titanium knee?

A blogger with two titanium knees!

Well, let’s hope that’s true. As I did just last month, I’m once again heading into the hospital in a few hours for my second knee replacement operation. I figured I’ve been having so much fun with the first one, hell, who wouldn’t want to do it all over again?

And this way I’ll have matching leg scars. Neato.

Just wanted to let you and the rest of my fantastic readers know that I may not be around for a few days, but I’ll be back soon. Definitely before the new pain meds run out – as I mentioned the last time, I do seem to be a more creative writer while under the influence. Let’s see if I can keep the streak going.

So, have no fear, I shall return. And maybe then, with two new knees, I can fulfill my physical therapist’s expectations for me and my rehab. Igor tells me if I work real hard and put my heart and soul into it, I soon will be able to …

… walk this way.

Out from under the knife

“Here big guy, take another swig of whiskey and then bite down on this stick.”

I don’t remember having to do this the time i had an operation..

“Last time you had better insurance.”

Oh, OK. Is there a phone in here?

“Yeah, but you’re in no shape to use it. I’ll get it.”

Thanks so much.

“Got it. Who do want me to call for you?”

911.

And so it goes, well maybe not exactly. But it’s done. One knee kaput, removed, replaced. And one stick that never tasted so good.

It’s a beautiful thing.

There’s not a lot to say at this point. Actually, come to think about it, there are a couple items to report.

One, OUCH.

And two – kids, don’t try this at home.