Tuesday

There is the question of the knee: yesterday, my doc person handed me an ace bandage, patted me on the back and told me how wonderful it feels to elevate a leg that's sore at least in part due to tibial plateau osteophyte formation (I'm just ripping a few words off of an xray report). Yes, but can I ski? Not that I want to ski. It's so slippery out there that it feels like you're skating, not skiing. On big wooden boards that have no good edges to stop your descent into the lake (thankfully frozen, but still...) or flat up against a tree. Go ahead and ski, she says. As long as it doesn't hurt. Well, that ship has surely sailed! Knees of a ten year old don't hurt. Knees of someone my age have one of three states -- knees that are bothering the hell out of you, knees that a bothering you just a little, and knees that one day are this, another day are that.

I think wrapping a knee at this point would be more for show than for strategic healing purposes, but I'm just guessing. And maybe it's not a bad idea to overemphasize to the world that I have a bad knee. No, Snowdrop, I cannot pick up any of the stuff you scattered coming into the farmhouse. Can't you see that I have a useless knee? (The girl is so neat! Except when she enters the house and leaves her trail of scarves, socks, shoes...)

Or, I could milk Ed for more of what he willingly does anyway -- get a bowl of this or a glass of that, as I sit back, with my leg up on the coffee table. 

I do think it's funny that my doc person is lecturing me on winter movement and knees and fractures, coming into the exam room as she did with a bandaged arm

What happened to you? -- I asked.

Broke my wrist while snowboarding! Never doing that sport again!

Wimp.

Still, we haven't had the best winter. Friends sent me pictures from the mountains in Poland and another from the mountains in Austria -- happy smiling faces against a backdrop of real honest to goodness winter heaven. We're cold, here in south central Wisconsin, but there's nothing fresh about the snow on the ground. Old and brittle. Just like my knee!

 

 

 

Breakfast, with spring tulips and hyacinths.

 

And Snowdrop, at the farmhouse. I do not suggest skating. Not a chance, little one. Don't even ask! (She doesn't.)

Little one, I think it's time to do your homework.

Gaga, I'm busy! Can't you see I'm playing??

(How the girl loves graphic novels! I'm working hard to find new ones for her. This particular set, featuring a middle school 11 year old, Sunny, has a brother who does drugs and smokes cigarettes with his high school drop out pals. Initially I thought we're hitting tough issues too soon, but honestly, it was a really good read!)

As always, I drive her home and visit with any brother that's available!

And now I am home at the farmhouse and I am not moving anywhere tonight even if you paid me! Leg up, all essentials within reach. Ed, do you mind getting me an ice cream sandwich? 

What more could a person want....