The biggest problem so far is my underwire hanging up on my crutch. I can live with this. Imagine the headlines: 'Mountain woman found unconscious, underwire wrapped around her crutch and chest'.
Yesterday I awoke to this message:
"I am sitting in one of your rockers on your deck enjoying the view and idyllic location."
My colleague. So kind and thoughtful. She brought ice for an ice machine I didn't know I would have after surgery. It sure feels good though. She brought me home from surgery, I have flowers in my bathroom, a Cowboys and Indian magazine, and a gift bag tucked full of goodies. Kindness in spades.
Yes, she is correct, my view is idyllic and peaceful. A little piece of heaven.
All is well. I prepared well. Do I want to walk to the kitchen for a bottle of water, or take the time to warm a bite to eat in the microwave? No. Only when growling ensues is a trip to the kitchen warranted. I'm not thrilled about drinking water, either. And I'm a big water drinker. Not today.
A gorgeous designer friend had a horrific accident, months ago. Broke so many bones, her back in two places. You would never know by looking at her. She is stunning. (Beautiful things AND people can be repaired, aggrandized.) FedEx delivered a fanny pack and gloves the day before my surgery, from Gorgeous. Fanny packs aren't my thing, they're always ugly, I don't care what you say. MY fanny pack is the fanciest pack I've ever seen, chic black, and as my designer friend told me, I can tuck a sandwich, my drink, phone, napkins—it's basically a GO bag. I could live off supplies tucked in my bag for months. Maybe I exaggerate, but this quickly became my best friend, accessory du jour, du mois.
I don't know why my knee was so damaged. I don't know why I have to slow down and use patience. I walk slower, for now, until Dr. tells me I can weight-bear.
My designer friend pushed through a disastrous, excruciatingly painful accident.
This surgery is inconvenient, nothing more.
Perspective.
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