So
… Physical Therapy on my knee in the morning.
Going in to the room I ran into a girl I went to school with (and she lived right around the corner). Sadly she was not one of the therapists. She had just had a knee replacement and was
on the road to recovery. Apparently it
was an extremely painful road for her.
Made me appreciate the knees I still have.
My
therapist Pat started me out with an ice massage, and then ultrasound. That’s her signature procedure. So much so that she was explaining it to a
student who was there. She was going to
do some kind of posture thing, too, but she never got around to that. Instead she told me that I should go ahead
and make an appointment with an orthopedist.
She felt like she was helping with the inflammation, but my underlying problem
is “something that will require another form and treatment.” She thinks it’s a cartilage tear. Guess that means a scope might me in my
future. On the recommendation of two of
my favorite nurses I called and made an appointment. Have to wait two weeks and then drive into
Texas for it, but that particular doc comes highly recommended. Only problem there is that she prefers
“chronic geriatric issues,” so I might get bumped to a sports medicine
guy. I told the clerk that I was a
pretty old guy, but she assured me that I was certainly not “geriatric.” Thanks, youngster.
On
the way home I was stopped at a stop sign.
I glanced up in my rear view mirror just in time to see a car rather
rapidly approaching behind me. I was in
the new car, so I cringed at the thought of a wreck, even if it was going to be
his fault. To his credit, he did get everything stopped,
but his problem? He was preening. He was actually doing that thing where you
touch at your hair and never run your fingers through it or anything, all the
while staring into the mirror (in this
case, the rear view mirror) to make sure it is just right. The procedure is not that unusual, I
guess. Except for the fact that his hair
reminded me of that character named Screech in the old TV show Saved By The
Bell. Really curly and very short. My point is, his preening (and subsequent near rear end collision)
did nothing to change anything about his appearance. But again, at least he did stop in time. Whew. After
that hair-raising experience I found myself driving down the Seawall … behind a
student driver. (Ah, I remember those days so well when I was the student driver and our
instructor fell asleep and we cruised the seawall for our hour of “practice”). I didn’t mind, though. It made it possible for me to fall in behind
him and know I would be doing the speed limit.
One less thing to think about …
We
got to spend some time with some friends from Arlington. They were down here with their kids, giving
the grandkids some beach time. We are
joining them and one other couple on a cruise to Alaska sometime in the future,
so we did some dreaming about bucket lists while they were here. I’m ready to just get the bottom line money
figure so I know what my savings goal will be.
Let’s go.
Psalms
83:1 says, “O God, do not keep silent; be
not quiet, O God, be not still.”
Father,
thank you for the chance to reconnect with friends. Thanks for stopping that preening guy before
he hit me. Be with Cindy through her
knee recovery. Oh, and that young lady
who told me I wasn’t geriatric? Please give
her a really great day. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment