I've entered the pissed-off stage of my post-operative recovery. The OxyCodine and OxyCotine kept me placated (i.e. sedated) for awhile, but after a week, I've lost patience with the forty minutes of effort required to get to the bathroom just to take a piss, and the never-ending throb of pain in my knee. There's no more TV i want to watch, no more books I want to read, no more Trader Joe's pre-packaged meals I want to eat, no more sleepless nights I want to spend, no more blogs I want to write, no more sites I want to surf. Enough. The anger will build and build until I get worked up enough to take a stand (literally), and spend twenty minutes wiggling myself off the couch. By the time I get to the floor, I am out of energy and unaware of what I was trying to do anyway. So I pull myself back up on the couch and pick up my laptop once again, even more pissed than before.
In the past week, endless flows of memories from the first time I had this surgery have released themselves from deep within my brain. I'm not sure if it is the pain medication, or the pain itself, but the sheer similarity between then and now have brought them all back for the first time in ten years. My mind weaves back and forth between San Francisco and New York. Walking down the stairs, one step at a time, delicately balancing my leg on the edge of the step so it will slide rather than hold pressure. Waking up in the middle of the night, trying to find a way - any way- to get comfortable with a four foot long brace locked to your leg. Staring at your shower, studying angles and grips, assessing if the pleasure of getting clean under warm water is worth the pain of standing. The sore armpits caused by the poor use of crutches. It is all exactly the same, and were I to open my eyes and find myself in my apartment at 315 Grand View in San Francisco, I almost wouldn't be surprised.
And yes, I fully accept that I am a total and utter pussy. I just read that the owner of the Utah Jazz had both of his legs amputated below the knee, and here I am bitching over the fact that I have temporarily painful knee that will be in perfect working condition in six months. Let's just hope you aren't still reading this blog the first time I face a real challenge, cause you will never hear the end of it. And in the meantime, spend the next minute appreciating your healthy limbs and organs, cause if even in a small way, this surgery is a reminder that just being in normal working shape is cause enough for daily celebration.