By the time you read this, the deed will be done.
My hubby is getting another new knee.
Those glory-filled years as a college football player came with a price―the deterioration of joints never intended to take that kind of grueling punishment.
It was not a happy experience (nightmare is a closer description) when he had the other knee done a few years back.
Here’s praying knee 2.0 will be much better.
In any event, I’m bracing myself.
He’s not a good patient. By that, I don’t mean he whines and whimpers and wants me to fulfill his every little desire.
No, I mean he won’t let you do anything for him. He tries to do it himself.
He’s a case.
One health care professional called him an “overachiever.” That means if he’s supposed to do five of an exercise, he thinks doing ten is even better. Or thirty.
After he had a heart attack a few years ago, I had a dream one night that I was taking care of a lion. There was good news and bad news in that dream. The good news―my husband was still a lion, not a kitty cat. He was as strong as ever. The bad news―I WAS TAKING CARE OF A LION. It’s not a job I envy anyone.
Trying to keep him from doing too much is just about impossible. I actually think it’s one of the reasons he had such a difficult time last go round.
I have a new technique in mind, though.
He has to go to rehab for a couple of days and even got special clearance for his dog Lucy to visit him. Neither one of them can be away from each other very long. He mopes. She pines.
When he starts trying to gallop instead of walk, I’ll just say, “Think of the dog. If you hurt yourself, you might have to stay longer, and what will Lucy do without you?”
That ought to work. He’ll do anything for the dog.
|With Lucy as a pup.|
|Lucy in all her full grown glory.|
However, if you passed the hospital and saw Jerry lapping it, you’ll know my plan fizzled. Back to the zoo with the lion for me.
“ . . . they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31).