So, there I was laid out like a Christmas turkey at the mercy of my doctors and nurses and in the hands of fate and the Gods above (or below as the fates may have it). No overwhelming sense of nostalgia or doom, just a calm belief that I was doing the right thing. Okay, also a strong hope that the right thing would work and, over time, post-op would be a marked upgrade to pre-op. A little over two weeks out and Ezra is using my cane about 95% of the time and, other than having a large and cozy chair from the living room at the dinner table, most events are at situation: normal.
Oh sure, there is a quite pregnant Mama waiting patiently for a chance to put her tired feet up for a change. There are approximately several chicken coops waiting to be built for the ferociously growing peeping raucous, temporarily shacked up in the laundry room. A serious amount of firewood to be cut split and stacked to avoid the comedic drama that was heating the house through this, our first winter on site. Fences to move, fences to mend, fences to make in the name of safe housing for our growing team of critters, both present and future. Yeah. We got lists. "Put it on the list!" I cry with a tone of royalty and a touch of dementia.
But hey, it's spring! Getting caught up in the potential and over extending is a tribute to the spirit of the season and why not just climb aboard and ride that wave with the maniacal grin of a ...what? It's snowing? Again? But it's spring time. Seeds and budding and the unveiling of new life...warm breezes? Apparently, the local meteorologist is in cahoots with the local hip surgeon and in harmony the immediate forecast is calling for large doses of, "Just take it easy there, mister. Settle yourself down and let nature lead the way."
"Nature? You just cut me open and inserted a huge piece of metal in my leg," I retort. "I want to spring and I want to spring now. I'm part machine! I feel great!" ...and
It's snowing. Again.
Deep breathing seems all but impossible when you're hyper-ventilating. And slow, patient leg lifts border on insanity when all you want to do is run through the woods with a posse of kids nipping at your heels. But believe me when I tell you that it is all good. The calendar is just ahead of the weather and my doc is used to my kind of stupid. I've got lists to write anyway. I'll just sit here and germinate a while. But I can feel it coming and I am ready. Those feet will be up soon, Mama...It's a promise.