Poor Dr. Hot Stuff. I'm certain he was getting a headache today, as he was squeezing the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was the fact I took a wheel chair ride to the abyss, as it was offered and I'm slower than normal, what with arm issues. The knee, how's the knee, they ask, he and his assistant. (Well, I was smiling, so it couldn't be all that bad.) I think he took a deep breath. The knee is great, the arm is the problem.
(I've never told him his name, so let's keep this between you and I.)
He may have been getting a headache too because I dared say the 'G' word...goo, google. I know better than to mention Dr. Google, but I was so relieved muscles weren't being ripped from bone, and I just blurted it out. "Yes that's exactly what Google said." He probably wanted to hand me the needle and tell me to inject the thing myself. But he didn't. Because he's nice.
The checkup went well, and my knee is fabulous, moving right along, right where I'm supposed to be post surgery. Cleaning up after the flood of 2019, somehow I got sloppy with form on my crutches and developed a heck of a case of tennis elbow. Son-of-gun hurts. Dr. HS provided an injection. I’ve been icing, ibuprofen, so I continue with the treatment plan. It feels better this afternoon. You can bet your sweet tush I will watch my form. Two weeks, two more weeks of non-weight bearing and I will begin to wean off crutches. I’m ready, so ready.
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