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).