Fancy Pants Man - Part II

So any time I talked to Fancy Pants Man on the phone and the topic of cars or driving came up, he would refer to his car as a Pinto. As in "I drove my Pinto to work today." or "I had to fill the Pinto up with gas.". I guess he wanted me to ask what kind of car he really drove. Anyone that knows me knows I don't care about cars at all. I am not a good driver, and cars are meant to get you from point A to point B regardless of whether it's a Dodge Dart or a Maybach Landaulet.

Anyway...when we went on our date we drove separately (he was annoyed by this, even after I explained that I would never get in a car with a stranger...a great life tip told to me by my mom when I was a child and still pertinent today). We had decided to go to a sports bar after dinner to watch the end of a football game. I handed the valet my ticket first. While the valet was getting my car, he was giving me directions (Follow my Pinto and when my Pinto turns in three blocks, follow it. Park by my Pinto). When the valet returned, he looked at me, looked at my car, looked back at me and says "That's your car?" I answer, "Yes. I'll have my Pinto follow your Pinto." For the record, I drive a black Mercedes sedan, which is not meant to brag, but will become relevant soon.

So the valet goes to get his car as we're having this conversation. His car gets pulled up and I'm waiting for a BMW Z4 or a Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder or something of equal awe factor. The valet pulls up with a Lexus SUV. And not the big one. Just the standard soccer mom SUV. Not that there's anything wrong with a Lexus SUV. But if you're going to pimp me all week about your "Pinto", your car had better fly or drive itself. And a Lexus SUV does neither.

Fancy Pants Man

So last week I went out with this guy. Why will I never see him again? It was his jeans. That's right...his jeans. The man wore jeans with stuff on the back pockets. We're not quite talking rhinestones, but there was definitely more design stuff on his back pockets than mine. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I have a staunch belief that a man's jeans should have nothing on the back pockets (which means you got them at the Gap or Banana Republic) or have that familiar stiching indicating you're wearing Levi's. A man should not be wearing True Religion, Rock & Republic, Chip and Pepper, Earls or any other brand (unless they have plain pockets, of course).


OK, so his jeans weren't quite this decorative, but it was close. Very close.

And there was also the issue of his Pinto, but that's for another post.

Forehead Kisser

So a while back I went on a date with this guy who is known about town to be a playa. That's right...playa with an "a", not an "er". Granted he's super good looking, has a great job and is loaded. He has dated two or three of my friends, none of whom had stellar commentary about him, so that probably should have been my first sign.

Anyway, we went on said date (which was non-discript and rather vanilla, so I'll spare you the boring details). At the end of the date, he walked me to my car. At the end of a first date I have had men shake my hand, try to high-school make out, Grandma kiss, etc. But this is the first time I had someone kiss my forehead. You got it...my forehead. Which would have been great if he were my dad, or we had been dating for a long time. But it was a first date. Come on now! He was about a foot taller that I am, so I thought maybe it was a logistical issue and he would go in for a second attempt. Nothing.

Since he never called me again, of course I had to start telling people about him. A couple weeks later I was at a private party happy hour deal, holding court, telling my forehead kisser story to about ten people. As I am standing there finishing up my story I say, "...now ladies and gentlemen, please don't all turn around at once, but the Forehead Kisser has entered the building." You heard me...he had come to this happy hour thing with one of my neighbors. Naturally, all ten heads turned around at once and stared at him. He was so uncomfortable he spent the rest of the evening running away from me. So mature.

Yikes! Stalker Boy update!!!

I went out with this guy some time in July and I had to involve the police in getting rid of him, so I have been pretty happy that I haven't heard from him. Until today.

I got an email from him that said:

Hi. At least read my email. Thank you. Hopefully you remember me.

I certainly remember you. I thought you were very pretty, smart

and easy to be around. That's important. Somehow (unknown to me),

I managed to offend you. I thought we had a good first

encounter at Bonefish remember. We all have some type of shortcoming.

Maybe we could try again. I think you're great.

At least give me a chance.

Do I remember you? Of course, I remember you! You called me 15 times a day! You own not one, but two escort services! You're still married! You're hard to forget. And you won't merit a response to your email.

Another update on my self-inflicted wound

This is what it looks like when you take off your bandages off your second degree burns. Nice scars, huh?

Stalker Boy

Everyone should have a stalker at least once in their lives. More than that you might have to start thinking it's not them...it's you.



Earlier this summer I went on a date with a guy I met on match (surprise!). After sending the requisite email to friends with as much info as I had on him so in case I went missing CSI would have somewhere to start looking, I met him for a drink at Bonefish. He seemed reasonably normal when we met, dressed well, good conversation, well mannered. At the end of the date he said he had to confess a couple things, since I had harped on honesty earlier that night and he wanted to see me again.



As soon as he said this, my first question was "Are you still married?". Of course he was, divorce to be finalized later this year. After that response I had already mentally written him off when he said there was more. Turns out he owns not one, but TWO escort services! And he gave me the website for them! Still not sure if this was as recruiting effort or not, but I digress.



Anyway, after that I definitely decided not to see him again. As soon as I got home I checked out the websites and sure enough, they were for real. He called me 20 minutes after I had left the restaurant to say he had a good time and hoped I would see him again. Too soon, buddy. Much too soon.



When I got up the next morning and had gotten an email from him saying if he didn't hear from me, he would assume I wasn't interested in s second date. I'm thinking this is cool. I won't have to do anything and won't have to hurt his feelings by telling him he's a freak and I wanted nothing to do with him.



That's when it started getting annoying. I knew what his cell number was, so when it showed up on my caller ID, I started ignoring it. He was calling me about 8 times a day, so this became a pain. Then a number shows up on caller ID that is one number up from mine (my cell ends in 3896, this number was the same as mine ending in 3897). I answered it out of sheer curiosity, and it's HIM! One of my super smart girlfriends told me there's a way to change the caller ID so you can pick what shows up. All this by dialing some number before the number you're calling (look it up on the internet...instructions are there somewhere). Anyway, calls started showing up with all kinds of numbers, meaning I wasn't answering anything that wasn't in my phone book.



In all, I was probably getting 8-10 phone calls, voice mails, IMs, texts or emails every day for about two weeks. I didn't respond to a single one, so you'd think the guy could take a hint. After two weeks I finally had to have some of my friends on the Cincinnati Police Dept. step in and have a conversation with the guy. Funny. He doesn't call me any more.

And in case you're wondering, 12 hours with an escort runs $2400 here in Cincy. A relative bargain, I'm sure, compared to other big cities.

My Five Day "Relationship" with Dayton Boy

A couple of weeks ago I met this guy on match.com (yes, I'm on match. No, I'm not embarrassed. At least not anymore.) that we'll call Dayton Boy. Dayton Boy was great. On paper, he was fabulous. In real life he exposed me to a whole different level of crazy. Allow me to map it out for you...

SUNDAY - I talked to him on the phone for over two hours. That's right, two hours. He is a practicing Catholic, Republican, built, employed....perfect for me. So far so good. We decide to meet for drinks at a place half way between my place and his (he live about an hour north from me) on Monday.

MONDAY - The date went fine. We had drinks and some snackies. Great conversation, better looking than his pictures, nice evening all the way around. We set up a second date for Wednesday night.

TUESDAY - Dayton Boy owns his own company, which allows him ample flexibility with his schedule. I assume this since he called me no fewer than five times and sent me about 35 text messages. This is also the day he called me and said he wanted to marry me.

I had to cut off the text messages, so I told him I was going to dinner and might text when I got home. Didn't really go anywhere, just needed to stop texting. Anyway, I got a text at 10:15pm asking if I was home yet. Then I got a phone call at 11pm asking if I was home. And asking if I would call him when I got in. NOT!

WEDNESDAY - Easily received 40 text messages from him. We had plans to meet at 6:30 by my house. I said I would meet him half way so he didn't have to drive all the way down, but he insisted on coming to Cincy (which is over an hour in traffic). He shows up at 6:30, we get drinks and dinner and get back to his car at 9:45pm. He has this crabby look on his face and I ask what's wrong. he does the pouty three-year-old "NOTHING!" response, so I say OK and go home.

For the next hour I got 20 text messages telling me how mad he was because I didn't spend enough time with him. Guess three hours on a school night on a date with someone I've known for 3 days wasn't enough. I finally tell him I have to go to bed and we'll talk about it in the morning.

THURSDAY - Got 50 texts and five phone calls.This was the day he told me he was expecting I would "fall all over him" a little more. Guess that's what he's used to from women. Needless to say, that was when I had to send the text message (that's right, a break up text message) to tell him to get lost.

Upate on my self-inflicted wound...

When we last left our super hero, I was sporting a nasty burn. On Friday it got worse, so at the prompting of Sarah, I went to the doctor. Surprise! Second degree burns! Only me.

Oh, and people don't really think the real story about how I hurt myself is interesting enough. So far, the ones they have made up have included:

1. It was a hot wax sex act gone bad (I believe the direct quote from the Gay Posse was...Ice cubes! You need hot wax AND ice cubes for it to be a good hurt!!!)
2. I'm Angelina Jolie's stunt double on her next movie and I hurt myself, which is why I have a burn and a limp.
3. I ran into a burning building to save a (insert item here...cat, dog, child, grandma).
4. Too much booze. Much too much booze.

Let me know you can come up with something better. The bandage come off tomorrow, so I need something good when people comment on the scars from the burns.

just call me a dork...

So last night I started to get ready for bed. I have a whole bunch of pillows on my bed that I arrange prior to falling asleep. I threw one pillow, figuring it would make it on to the floor. It did, but first made a pit stop on the nightstand and grazed a candle and started on fire.

Needless to say, all that polyester went up in flames in a flash. In my panic, I grab the pillow, but on the part that was on fire. Parts of the burning pillow stuck to my hand, the sheets and the carpet. I ran some water on myhand before I went to bed, thinking it would be OK. Taking a look at the burns this morning, I'm noticing I may have been mistaken.

Changing things up...

OK, so this blog used to be about my progress after my knee replacement surgery. Now that I'm six months post surgery, I thought I should come up with something else to blog about. So I have chosen dating. And maybe job hunting. Who knows. Anything goes at this point, since I have some free time on my hands.



To protect the innocent, not so innocent and the stupid, I might have had to change some names and details. Don't try too hard to figure out who these people are (even though I do live in the world's biggest small town and you might be able to figure it out).



So this past Sunday my friend Mia and I went to tailgate at the Bengals game. Didn't want to go to the game necessarily (since they're so bad it's tough to watch), just wanted to have some beers and see some friends. As we were standing in the parking lot a bunch of guys walked past us towards the stadium entrance. One of them was good looking (I thought), so I mentioned it to Missy.



She decides to call him over and find out his name. Bengal Boy and I trade numbers. He sends me a couple of text messages during the game wanting me to meet him and his buddies somewhere in Mainstrasse after the game. Right...like I'm going to meet some random drunk strangers in Kentucky. Anyway, I told him I was busy and he suggested we meet for drinks on Monday night. Meeting location was public, in the daylight and at a nice place, so I figured no harm in meeting for a drink.



Monday morning I get a very sweet "good morning, looking forward to seeing you" text. Get a couple more nice messages that morning. I'm thinking this guy is going to win Date of the Week!



I had lunch with Missy that day and during lunch I get a text that reads:

Hey there. I didn't get to spend much time talking before the game.

I might have forgotten to mention that I have a wife.

Hope that doesn't put a dent in things.

My response was:

Wives get in the way.

No dice on our date tonight.

So obviously I didn't go on the date. And after Missy and most of the employees of the Hamilton County Courthouse made fun of me, I wrote it off as one of those funny Cincinnati things.

So later that afternoon I walk home from the bank. As I get to the Walgreens I notice a very handsome man walking towards me. As he gets closer I take a good look and who do you think it is???? That's right...it's Bengal Boy!!!! He looks me square in the eye, gets flustered, blood drains from his face and he jumps in the middle of the street to cross to the other side, coming very close to getting hit by a car in the process. All this to avoid contact with me. Serves him right, scumbag.

I used to think stuff like this only happens in Cincy. Now I'm starting to think stuff like this only happens to me.

A funny thing happened on the way to church...

So last Sunday I was all proud of myself because I got up and had enough energy to take a shower, get dressed, put some makeup on and go to Mass. I never get to wear anything but sweats, so I put on a cute dress...a shirtwaist one with a puffy long skirt that falls below the knee.

As I'm climbing the front steps to church an older couple was climbing the steps next to me. The gentleman was at the top of the stairs holding open the door. The woman was slowly walking the steps with me. I figured she was going to to ask me what happened or make sure I didn't fall down the stairs (since I was using both my crutches to get up the stairs).

Instead, when I got to the top of the stairs she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Honey, your purse was hiking up the back of your dress as you were walking up the stairs and your butt is almost showing. Thought you might want to pull your dress down before walking into church."

Nice. Very nice.

Minor Victory!

At physical therapy today they told me I can now use just one crutch instead of two!!! It's not huge progress, but I'll take it. If you see me in a crowd, I will still be using two crutches, just to help protect my leg from other people. Yeah for me!!!

Sunset Pointe pool escapades

When you stay in an "active over-55 living community", you tend to meet some interesting characters. First, I learned my mom has more clothing than any human being I have ever met. It didn't matter what I needed, she had it several colors. I also learned that my father spends a lot of time watching RAW and other mixed martial arts shows. Go figure.

Anyway, I digress. I went to the pool several times and met tons of different people. In the "active over-55 " age group, at least one person has had a knee or hip (or both) replaced. As I was doing my pool therapy, I got lots of stares. As they were floating around on their floaties and noodles, I was on the shallowest side of the pool trying to slowly walk upright unassisted (with the help of some pool noodles). Interesting how much easier walking can be with a little help from the water. It was kind of fun to be able to do squats and kicks and not have everything hurt while you're doing it. Afterwards was a whole different story. It was definitely painful, but worth it.

I made a friend Charlene while I was there. Her husband Mike had both his knees replaced. Naturally, he gave me the speech that I was too you to have the surgery, etc. And he gave me the "physical therapy is the key to success" speech. I think my therapist Sarah called him and told him to tell me that.

Change of Venue

OK, so I have been remiss in keeping my posts current. I have spent week after week staring at the four walls of my living room (or bedroom, if I wanted a change of pace). Since my Wal-Mart escapades have been curtailed by all of my medical consultants, I have been sitting at home and sleeping and watching TiVo. Once the days started to blend together, I figured it was time to seek a change of venue.



My very kind parents have been asking me for weeks to come visit them. Good news, they live in Florida. Bad news, they live in one of those over-55 active senior communities. Think Disneyland for senior citizens...or La Boca Vista where George Costanza's parents lived on Seinfeld.



My doctors gave me the go-ahead to take the flight. I had to start taking baby aspirin every day (helps avoid blood clots). I also had to get some wheelchair help from the airline. Delta came through like a champ on the wheelchair help. If you get the OK to fly after your surgery, make sure you get a direct flight and try to get an aisle seat in first class. You will thank your lucky starts for the extra space. I did a lot of foot pumps and walked to the bathroom a couple times (again, helps avoid blood clots). And make sure you time your medication properly. A little Valium and some Vicodin made my flight much more enjoyable, thank goodness. Actually, a little Valium and some Vicodin can make just about any day more enjoyable.



I made a deal with my folks that I would come down but I wasn't bringing any luggage. Other than a bathing suit, some underpants and my medicine, that's all I was bringing. Mom said she would either provide everything or I could buy it there. Best thing I could have done. Luggage would have made this trip so much harder.



I got to my folks' place last Tuesday morning and spent most of the day recovering from my flight, except for a short trip to TJ Maxx to buy a couple of things. It's Florida and it was 88 degrees every day. It wasn't hard to buy a couple pair of shorts and some t-shirts.

More info tomorrow on my escapades at the Sunset Pointe pool!

Happy Birthday to Me!!!!!

May 14, 2008

Yesterday was my 40th birthday and we had a planned to do a small dinner that night at a great steak house. Since I'm still having some issues with nausea, keeping food down, losing my appetite and losing weight, I was hoping dinner wouldn't be an issue. I lucked out big time and dinner turned out great. I didn't eat much at all (two small bites of steak, one scallop and a bite of a shrimp), so I was a little disappointed about that.

The chef made me a special dessert, and as you can see from the photo, it looked (and was) delicious (I did have a tiny bit of that)! Take a look for yourself!

Am I lazy, or just recovering from surgery?

I got up very early this morning because I was planning on running some errands...returns at Wal-Mart (scooter carts...yeah!), Kohl's to pick up a dress (since going to the mall was completely out of the question), groceries (need more Ensure or else I might wither away to nothing) and a deposit at the bank.

After consulting with the intelligent side of my brain, I decided that would be too many things to do before my leg swelled up like a balloon, so I settled on Kohl's and the bank.

Note to Kohl's...get some scooter carts! Injured people (like me) and the weak and feeble little old people that frequent your store will appreciate it like you can't understand. Needless to say, the visit to Kohl's was VERY short.

Thank goodness the nice people at Chase were smart enough to put in drive thru windows and ATMs a long time ago. God love corporate forethought.

Needless to say, I spent the balance of the day in bed taking various naps. Not that it's almost 9pm, it's time for me to get out of bed and try to accomplish something today. The goal is unload the dishwasher, empty the sink and sort some laundry. We'll see how far I get with this considering it's getting late.

did you know you can sleep for over half a day?

Today was day one of House Arrest Part II. I spent all morning (literally from the time I got up at 7:30 am and stayed up for 30 minutes) taking a nap and got up at 2pm. They I went to my primary care doctor to get a whole bunch of blood tests done to see why I'm so tired. Other than a nap and a trip to the doctor, the only other things I have done today are run the microwave and the toaster. I didn't end up eating either thing that I made, but I did do a little work besides sit on my butt and watch it get bigger. Oh, and I did manage to take a shower.

Maybe tomorrow I can use the microwave, toaster and the stove. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

House Arrest...round 2

***WARNING...THERE ARE SOME PHOTOS OF MY SCAR TOWARDS THE END OF THIS POST. JUST WARNING YOU IN CASE THAT TYPE OF STUFF GROSSES YOU OUT.


Purely for entertainment value, in case you're wondering exactly how many drugs you get to take when they saw your leg in half, here's a picture of the bucket o'drugs I have to take every day.




















Went for a visit with my doctor this afternoon after a BRUTAL session at physical therapy. Didn't feel that great when I left PT, but I was anxious to get the doctor's appt. overwith so I could go home and take a nap. (Percocet-assisted, of course).

Good news is that he said my knee looks great and the hardware is looking good and all is in the right place. The bad news is they said I'm doing way too much and it's affecting how I'm healing. For as many times as I try to explain that I live by myself and the magic fairies have taken a vacation which means there's nobody to do laundry and dishes, they didn't seem to care.

As a result, I have to figure out how to find more fairies. Gotta find out where they have their club meetings. It also means I'm back on house arrest for the rest of the week and maybe the weekend. This should be interesting.

In photo world, I'm including pictures of my knee from this morning, when they removed all my bandages and Steri-Strips. I think it looks pretty cool.

accessories that came along with my AARP card

I know I've been talking over and over about the scooter carts at the stores and my fabulous walker, and how much I love them both. No, really, I just love them both, especially my walker. It makes getting around my place a whole lot easier and has a little bag up front so I can carry things from room to room.

And what else can be said about the scooter carts? They're the greatest things ever. Today's activity post-PT was a short trip to the Kroger (making brownies for the guys in my doctor's office). Anyway, the very nice Kroger guy not only found me a working scooter cart, he took my picture too. I bet the next time you're at a store with a scooter cart you're going to spend a split second thinking how cool it would be to ride around in one for the afternoon.

Don't these pictures make you want to take me somewhere with you? I am a sight to be seen, to be sure.

helpful hints for those who will have or have had surgery

Since I am now three full weeks out from surgery, I thought I would share a few things that I have learned that have made things a little easier as me either as I prepared for surgery or progressed through my rehabilitation.

Pre-Surgery
Your House - First, get rid of every single area rug you have in your whole house. For as pretty as they might be, guaranteed they will get caught on your crutches or your walker. I am speaking from personal experience on this.

Your kitchen - Get rid of everything in your cabinets or fridge that you don't like to eat. Before your surgery, go out and get all kinds of stuff that you do like and put it on the lower shelves of the cabinets and fridge. Don't get too much, because you might find out in the first couple of days post-surgery that, because of your medication, the stuff you liked pre-surgery makes you sick to your stomach post surgery. I spent the first two weeks a home eating nothing but King's Hawaiian bread, Thomas' bagels and bottled water. Strange combo, I know.

Your bedroom - You're probably going to get sent home with a CPM machine and a Polar Pack or Game Ready ice machine. Before you put down the CPM on the bed, try putting down a big beach towel. It will keep the machine (which is very heavy) from possibly ripping your sheets and will take care of any drips from the ice machine.

Find one of those small TV tray tables and put it right by your bed. It's been a God-send for me to be able to reach over to get another pain pill or bottle of water versus having to unhook from the CPM and ice machine, get out of bed and get whatever I need.

Post Surgery
Take a shower - This is quote possibly the most exciting thing I have learned since my surgery. My doctor told me I couldn't get the wound wet and take a bath for 3-4 weeks. They also said I couldn't take a shower unless I could figure out a way to do it without getting the bandages wet.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, here's how you do this. I took a shower the first day I came home from the hospital and had absolutely no issues. First, you need to get a roll of Glad Press and Seal Wrap. Accept no substitutes, it has to be this exact brand. Anyway, take the Press and Seal and wrap it around your leg. If you're still using the immobilizer, you can wrap it around that. Otherwise, just wrap it around the bandages or ace wraps. Take some time to press down on the whole thing so everything sticks together. If you want a little extra protection, get some wide waterproof tape and tape the top part of the plastic wrap.

Next step is the bathtub. Put a non-slip pad or rubber thing in the tub, then put a stool on the pad. Make sure the stool is about the same height as the side of the tub. It works best if you have one of those shower heads that can be hand-held, but a regular shower works just fine. Make sure you have everything you need (shampoo, razors, conditioner, soap, etc.) within easy reach from the stool.

Anyway, get yourself in the tub and sit on the stool. Take your bad leg and place it on the side of the tub. Take the shower curtain liner and cover the bad leg with it and try to tuck the plastic around your leg to cover it as much as possible. At this point you can start the water and take your shower. Be careful not to move around too much or you'll fall off the stool. When you're done, make sure your towels are close by. Sounds like a basic thing, but I've had to make the hobble to the other side of the bathroom on more than one occasion. Will I ever learn?!?

Once you're done, you can either unwrap the plastic or make a slit and cut it off. I'm telling you, the Glad Press and Seal has been my saving grace. This was my 11th knee surgery and I have tried every type of plastic wrap, garbage bag, etc. and this stuff works wonders. I'm telling you Nothing feels better than finally being able to take a bath after surgery.

Oh, one more thing. Get yourself one of those plastic baskets that kids use in college to bring all their toiletries to the bathroom or one that you can put all your cleaning supplies in. Use this to cart around all your necessities like bottled water, pain pills, cell phone, magazines, books, etc. Makes things a whole lot easier to have everything in one place to cart from room to room. Otherwise, you end up like me and lose two cordless phones in the sofa and it takes days to find them since the batteries have died. I have also opened 6 bottles of water in the span of 22 minutes since I kept losing whichever the last one was that I opened. The baskets have been VERY helpful!

Like I didn't have enough wardrobe issues...

So today I go to physical therapy and they proceed to beat the crap out of my leg. After that, I have a short appointment with my doctor who notices I have some swelling in my leg that wasn't that there last week. Might be from when I had fallen and couldn't get up. Who knows.


Anyway, there was good news and bad news to the solution. The good news was I could stop wearing all the bandages, ace wraps and gauze. The bad news is I have to wear a compression sleeve on my leg. My doctor seems to think I will be wearing this thing at all times. I begged to differ, but he didn't care. As you can see in the photo, it looks like a long white thigh-high stocking without the feet, toes or "sexy". And of course, it's 78 degrees in Cincinnati today and this new accessory will look lovely with any pair of shorts I decide to put on. Someone call Glamour Magazine. maybe I can be one of those "don't" photos that thave the black box over their eyes.

Day One after "house arrest"

I wish I had something super spectacular to tell you about my first day after my doctor-imposed "house arrest". I went to physical therapy this morning, came home and took a Percocet nap and tried to have some lunch.

The first highlight of the day was my going to the gym to do my first workout since surgery. Imagine trying to lift weights while your right leg is in HUGE bandages (and it hurts like I can't explain) and you're using crutches. I would include a photo, but I looked way to silly to publish on the Internet.

The second highlight was going out for dinner. I have been having a small problem with food (like keeping anything down and actually liking the taste of anything). It has gotten to the point where I have started drinking Ensure (that's right, the same stuff your Grandma drinks. Between the Ensure and my walker I'm pretty sure I could get an AARP card now). Anyway, we went to out to get fish and chips and it didn't taste horrible, so I'll take that as bonus. If I could go two days in a row eating some food, that would be great, but I'll celebrate the little victories. One day at a time.

Like i said, wish it was more interesting, but that's all I got.

And, no, the laundry still has not gotten done. Maybe tomorrow.

WARNING...IF YOU'RE QUEASY, DON'T READ THIS POST.

28 April 2008...6:25pm

We took some pictures at therapy today. They're of my good leg compared to my bionic one. I think they look pretty cool. Other people, not so much. I'll let you decide.

Massive Wardrobe Adjustments (not the Janet Jackson kind)

28 April 2008


As most of you know, I'm all about my wardrobe. Unfortunately, much to my chagrin, fashion has had to take a back seat to function since my surgery. I have to wear a thing called a Polar Pack for part of the day. It's got a big tube that sticks out of the top of my bandages and attaches to an ice pack that runs all day. Since my bandages are so thick and this Polar Pack tube has to have somewhere to go, I can't wear pants. Or jeans. Or sweats. Or just about anything else I used to wear.


To remedy the situation, my oh-so-smart-mom came up with the idea of taking a pair of sweat pants and cutting off the right pant leg so there is room for the bandages and Polar Pack tube. And much to my surprise, it works. So now I have not one, not two, but five pair of these fabulous pants. Not exactly like the pair of D&G pants I got from Saks a couple of weeks ago, but what can you do? Take a look at the fabulous photo so you can get the full picture of what a fashion plate I have become. I am destined for the cover of Vogue any day now. Good look, huh?

House Arrest...or Just Like It

So...it's 20 days post surgery. So far, I have watched 132 episodes of CSI (NY, Las Vegas, Miami, take your pick), 82 episodes of Clean House, 1236 episodes of Law and Order (again, pick a version, any version). And I have become slightly addicted to a cartoon called Manny's Tools.

I have an awesome picture of my scar (22 staples, a bunch of stitches, about 14 inches long), in case you want to see it.

A couple of days ago I went to see my doctor and he said I am doing too much too soon. My grandiose plans to do knee rehab in the AM, go home and have a Percocet nap/lunch, then go to the gym for a little upper body workout has been vetoed by my entire medical team. I'm not sure if it was the trips to Wal Mart or Kroger or the fact that I have been driving my car that put them over the edge.

Instead, since last Thursday I have been told I have to stay home until Monday (tomorrow) and do basically nothing. I could go to rehab one day, chiropractor one day and church one day. Once you deduct those activities and some sleep, that left me 61 hours to fill with something less mind numbing than Bobby Flay's Throwdown.

To give you an idea of exactly how exciting life can be during knee replacement recovery, today I went to 9am Mass, then headed to Kroger. Yes, I did ride a motorized cart. Yes, several people asked if they could help me do my groceries. No, I did not use my walker at the Kroger today (though it is my favorite medical implement at home. It's just like your Grandma's. I may pimp it out to make it a little cooler. Maybe a paint job or some stickers). After an hour at church and another hour at Kroger, I had to come home and take a Perco-nap. Thank goodness for Schedule II narcotics. It's a darn good thing that I have been weaning myself off all my narcotics otherwise learning to walk again could be a challenge.

In case you're wondering what excitement tomorrow will bring, I'll be at rehab for a couple hours in the AM and coming home for my Perco-nap. After that, it might be an attempt at laundry. Talk about living it up!

Drop me a line or give me a call if you're bored. Goodness knows I can probably make room in my busy schedule. My email is emacdonald13@yahoo.com and my cell is 312.953.3896. I'll let you know if the laundry gets done. Good gracious...look what my life has come to.

Cruising Wal Mart in Style

22 April 2008

OK, so I finally need some supplies. My sister had told me that Wal-Mart had those automatic carts that you can use to cruise around, so I headed there. I had to giggle at what I must have looked like cruising around Wal-Mart trying to get just enough supplies to fit into my backpack. I'm not sure if I looked cooler in my motorized cart or with my walker, but maybe I'll post some pictures and you can decide for your self.

I went to the doctor's after my Wal-Mart trip and have been told I am no longer allowed random excursions for a couple of days. They're sucking the life out of me. They were not impressed with my motorized cart story. So now I will ne ordering everything online on trying to find it at the Walgreens around the corner.

Fireman, Paramedics, Doctors, Oh My!!!!

18 April 2008

My visiting nurse is coming at 10am to do some physical therapy. Since I have been using copious amounts f drugs to get any sleep, getting up is a bit of a challenge. Anyway, I manage to get up at 9:40am to get dressed before Dan the Visiting Nurse shows up. At 9:43am, I reach for my crutches so I can get to the kitchen and get a snack before he gets there. At 9:44am, I lose my balance and fall down.

When I was in the hospital, I asked the doctor if there was anything I could do that would ruin my new knee. He told me 1)don't get hit by a car and 2)don't twist my knee. It doesn't twist yet. Since there wasn't room for a car accident in my bedroom, I, of course, chose the twisted knee. As I am in the process of falling down, I am trying to decide how to fall with the least amount of damage. I am telling my leg to pick itself up off the ground so it doesn't twist (too bad that my leg didn't cooperate since it doesn't follow directions yet. So I ended up falling on my butt first, then my elbow and finally hitting my head on the frame of my bed.

That's when Dan the Visiting Nurse shows up and we decide to call 911 and get some paramedics to take me to the hospital. Three minutes later, some firemen and paramedics show up in my house. Please keep in mind that there are two full loads of semi-wet laundry laying all over my living room floor. Enough that they had to push some stuff around so they could get the stretcher in to my bedroom. I'm sure that will make for good conversation at the fire house.

After a short visit to the ER, found out there was no permanent damage to the new knee. Just some trauma and lots of extra swelling and fluid that they couldn't do anything about. But I did get some more drugs out of the deal, so no complaints there.

17 April 2008

My sister had left earlier that evening. Before she left for the airport, she decided to put two loads of laundry in. Great idea, except for the fact that we didn't exactly figure out a way for me to get the laundry back to my apartment when it was done. My laundry room is about 40 feet from my apartment door. I remembered about the laundry at about 11pm, well after I had gotten into bed, taken a Valium and prepared for the narcotics nap that I was so looking forward to.

Now picture this. I take my walker (that's right, I said walker. The kind your grandma has. I even have a little bag in the front of it so I that I can carry some things as I'm scooting along. I don't, however, have tennis balls on the bottom of my walker. I have to draw the line somewhere).

Anyway, I take what turns out to be two full loads of semi-wet laundry, tie it all up in a giant sheet (also semi-wet), and take the giant wet ball back to my apartment. For those of you keeping track, it took me a full 25 minutes to walk the 40 feet from the laundry room to my apartment. Once I managed to open the door to my place, I took the entire wet wad of clothes and threw it on the floor of my living room. I tried to spread it out a little so there would be a prayer that they would dry, but suffice it to say that I managed to cover about 800 square feet of semi-wet laundry. I would have done more (like hung some stuff up), but the Valium was kicking in and Valium wins over good housekeeping every time.

17 April 2008

I was home for a couple of days with my mom, dad and sister helping out. Since my family is all from out of town, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to figure out how to do things on my own. That day was 17 April. Since I was still on a lot of drugs, being by myself was no big deal. I sleep, I wake up to take some meds, and go back to sleep. I'm pretty sure I missed a couple of days due to my drug induced haze. I did manage to wake up when the visiting nurses would come every day.

Can You Really Have a Good Time in the Hospital?

7-10 April 2008

Surgery was on 7 April. No big deal...they take my old crappy knee, saw my leg in half and add a new one made of titanium, plastic and rubber. If you aren't of the queasy type, Google "total knee replacement" and take a look at the pictures. They're pretty cool if you're into that kind of thing. After a little stint in recovery I got moved to a room where I would stay for three or four days.

For those of you that don't know me, I'm a bit of a hotel snob. I travel for a living, flying three weeks a month every month, so I'm all about staying in a nice hotel. Needless to say, in case you're wondering, there's no good way to do a hotel to hospital comparison. No reviews with stars to do a comparison, no Mobil guide for consultation. You kind of have to take what you get.

I get moved into a room where there was already an older woman in the other bed. She was such a sweet little thing. Every time someone came to visit her she made sure they came to say hello to "the 20 year old little girl in the next bed who just had her knee replaced." My mom told me that she had a sign over her bed that she was visually and hearing impaired, but I didn't care. She said I was 20...and since I'm almost 40, she became my favorite roommate very quickly.

The hospital I was at is a teaching hospital, and the staff was just great. There were these great student nurses there that I got to know pretty well. Since they usually only had one or two patients, it was like having a private duty nurse. Not bad all the way around.

In case you're wondering, hospital food is still as vicious as you would expect it to be. A step above or below airline food, depending on which airline you fly. But since I was taking a LOT of narcotics, most of my days were spent taking drugs and sleeping. Food was definitely not on my top ten list of concerns.

Day Prior to Surgery

6 April 2008

My mom and dad decide they are going to come up from Florida for a couple of days to help me out after I get out of the hospital. This poses interesting issues namely 1) they live in Florida and will need to stay in Cincinnati for a week, 2) my mom is a retired nurse and 3) my dad, though he worked around hospitals and doctors his entire working life prior to retiring, get completely grossed out by being in hospitals. Especially when his own kids are involved. This will be the least of my problems.

Percocet, Valium and other ways to pass the days after surgery

Some time in March 2008

OK, so it starts like this. A little bit of background. Long story boring, over the past 20 years I have had a zillion knee surgeries on my right knee. Problem is that I hurt it playing softball when I was 12 (1982 was a good year, except for that infamous game at Eisenhower Junior High when slid into third base and dislocated my kneecap. ) Because of my age, they waited to do surgery until I was in college. I've had a surgery every couple of years to clean out my knee and try to make it last a little bit longer before I have to have it replaced. My time has run out and it's time to get myself a new one.