Then I got new exercises--she had me raise my right knee up and down in rhythmic succession while standing, so I asked her to hand me one of my crutches, and she did, and I pretended I was going to use it as a cane (to be accompanied by a tall hat) for a soft-shoe routine, a la Fred Astaire, and she said, 'Hang on [to the kitchen sink] with both hands!' In another exercise, when she instructed me to raise one leg out back straight, I felt it was a move worthy of ballet, and wanted to spread my arms out to complete the pose, but she again advised against this. 'No falls yet? Good. Don't fall!' Under her care, I made slow, sure, steady progress.
(A friend heard about my attempts at soft-shoe routines and ballet and said, ‘Cool it, Stanley’. And that did seem to be the tenor of Maria’s leading remarks at the bass of her concern—now to find a pun for baritone.)
(Another friend suggested that, due to having an artificial knee, I am not a man of steel and so can spring into action, as it were, so to speak.)
But when the pain meds sent home with me from the hospital began to run out, a church friend got me pharmacy fax numbers, but I had a problem: the surgeon’s main assistant was on vacation, so someone else in the office tried to catch up with the vacationing person’s duties plus her own, and finally after checking around told me the pharmacy in Idaho could not accept a faxed prescription sent from Utah—the prescription had to be mailed, or I could get it from a local doctor. Later, someone else explained that this was because the pain meds are a controlled substance and drug addicts abuse them, hence the additional rules. I called a local MD’s office and they didn’t get back to me. Finally, my home care leader got them to respond, which they did saying they’d give me 14 pills (enough for two days at then-dosage) and no more. I had to postpone the more vigorous physiotherapy until pain medication was at hand, and I changed primary care doctors.
(Various friends prayed for me, and some who’d been through similar surgeries and pain meds emphathized. One unhelpful person said it was a chance to wean myself from pain meds—that comes in time, but not yet. I’d experienced no blurry haze, etc, I’d been led to expect from some people’s comments, but maybe they meant another medication. Or perhaps I’m just exceptional, different, unusual, weird, odd, singular, strange, distinctive, a somerman!, an ubermensch!, or ‘special’.)
(One man said he’d legalize all drugs—‘the whole idea that you can control them is a lost battle.’ I know a woman who worked in a Louisiana office intended to oversee stopping drug traffic across the Gulf of Mexico, and she felt the same way. Will Rogers, American comedian of decades ago, said we should legalize everything and tax heavily the things we don’t want, and this would be more effective than banning.)
(Another man suggested that the hospital should have given me a larger dose to begin with, knowing I was going out of state and there would be these issues, and he’s right, but I guess people were busy and couldn’t think of everything at once.)
Next blog, next part of the saga!