And I can’t say I’m sorry to see you go. In fact, I thick my foot got prematurely lodged in your backside trying to hurry the process along. I will spare you glorious readers the “Oh how my year sucked” details but here is one highlight.
My knee decided it no longer wanted to straighten. I know, insane right? A hinge joint deciding it no longer required to comply with the anatomical rules of operation.
But nonetheless I found myself in the ER (above) with a stubbornly flexed knee. After two ER docs and about 10 ortho residents and a few fellows had their manipulative way with me, I was told to follow up with the Attending surgeon.
Much to the disappointment of all the young ortho bucks, I guess the attending would get to be the one to exercise his virility and unlock the beast. But I would like to thank a particular ortho resident. His extremely hairy chest and gold chain beating on it with each forceful manipulation helped to momentairly distract me from the pain and I’m convinced, kept me from passing out.
I mean first, that much chest hair? Not my thing. And secondly, how in the heck could that chain beat so freely and with such force without getting caught in all of that bush? It was truly fascinating.
Clearly he was unaware of my voyeuristic activities or the fact that he was grunting and sweating. I can only imagine what the scene looked like from another angle. It would have been comical had I not been every shade of the rainbow and about to vomit from pain.
But enough about hairy chested residents. My temporary ride above sucked and I gained new appreciation for my legs and for the support of my family. My daddy (above sporting the look of worry) is truly a one-of-a-kind wonderful man and second to none. He has always been my hero and I shadowed him relentlessly as a kid and would probably continue to if it wasn’t so creepy. But let’s face it, good men are worth shadowing.
It was love at first perma skin mark between me and the ortho attending. He had me at “GA Yes.” Rather than spreading my legs and contorting me into the various pretzel formations that his younger, inexperienced counterparts attempted, he decided to give me good drugs and take care of business arthroscopic style. And the fact that he marked the correct body part to invade was a huge bonus for this girl.
Someone should’ve told anesthesia to keep the good drugs running because when I finally came to pain had been playing on my playground for awhile. And anyone who knows anything about pain knows that once it gets ahead of you it is game over…pack your bags….time to find a drug dealer and shoot up heroine.
I spent much time on the couch during my recovery. And as all mothers can confirm, our children are never far away. I’m extremely thankful for the rare occasions that I’ve been able to poop in private. In fact, my bowels literally shut down when there’s not a kid competing for attention. We’re taking full blown constipation until a child returns to get things jump started again. I think I’ll require bowel retraining when they all leave for college.
During one of my many moments on the couch I happened to look over and there was under ware clad Tres lighting up the room with his moon.
“Laughter doeth good like a medicine” (Prov 17:22) and I had much medicine that day.
2015, you’re starting off with some baggage but I believe that you have the makings of greatness in you. So goodbye 2014, don’t let my foot cause you too much discomfort on the way out….hello 2015!