Day number two of my week among les medecins. It's a foggy Tuesday and a stinky one too: on my morning walk to feed the animals, I pick up that powerful odeur of une moufette (skunk). [Why the French? I'm out of practice. Have to keep that language ball rolling!] Well that's not good! Moufettes eat poulettes (chicken, but poulette sure sounds prettier for our French Bresse girls!).
All chickens are accounted for, but it is a warning to be vigilant in the next few days.
Breakfast. Oatmeal and fog go well together, don't you think?
Now comes the fun part: I get to discuss my knee with a specialist. Because I have the unfortunate probably genetic trait of liking new things, and am willing, like no other person I know, to get rid of old stuff, I'd been a little bit looking forward to getting a shiny (it's metal, no?) new knee.
[Just to reassure you that I am not totally loony, when my knee acts up, walking up stairs, for example to the bathroom, or down stairs, for example to do the laundry in the basement, are acts of courage!]
My doc (whom I meet today for the first time) has a lot to say: about my knee, about replacements, about skiing, about my background: people hear my name and right away impute an identity to match it. Fact is, I was not born a Camic -- it's my ex husband's name. I was born a Lewandowska (the feminized version of my father's name). My doc explained to the resident in the room that "ska" means you're female. His wife is a "ska." What would be truly my own name? Not Haracz either (my mother's birth name). That came from her father. It's hard to escape the patrilineal descent of names! I liked being a Camic in the US far more than I liked being a Lewandowska. No one could ever get the "ska" part right (except for my doc today) and absolutely no one could pronounce it (my daughters and the doc today are exceptions).
It's clear I need a new knee. But, he did strive to level off my expectations. We spend some time discussing what I could and could not do with a replacement. "You can ski, even downhill. But stick with Blue runs. No more Black Diamonds. " (I did not tell him that I never, ever liked Black Diamonds and wouldn't be caught dead on one now, especially when climate change means there's more machine snow than natural snow, which in turn means icy skiing.) "And stay away from Intermediate runs too. People are crazy on those. They don't know what they're doing!" I let him talk. I'd already told his resident that I have forsaken downhill. It's not what it once was. All of it seems crazy to me.
Excited as I am about the new model, coming up soon, I now face the biggest hurdle of them all: when to do the surgery. I do not have time for it! "You wont be able to drive immediately" Well that wont do! "You wont be able to go on trips far away for several months." You're kidding me! "It will take up to six months to get to your full capacity. Which, BTW wont be your previous capacity."
You know, I got an ad in my inbox today from my Subaru dealer enticing me to buy a new car. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Blue Moon, but the newer model sounds so much better! People there know how to make you feel good about wasting money on a new product ("brand new safety features! it will only raise your monthly payments by $24! and you'll get a moon roof!" Oh wow, I love moon roofs!) Here I am, about to get a new, imperfect knee. Well, never mind. It's an improvement over what's there now. And I promise not to have wild expectations. Once I figure out when this year I could possibly schedule the replacement!
I drive over to pick up Snowdrop at school, stopping for a cup of coffee on the way and reaching into my bag for a couple of those free Kind Mini bars to munch on (lunch!). It's a long drive and it gives me time to imagine what life would be like with a new knee. Such privilege to be able to do this: new eyes, new teeth, new knees. To say I am grateful is an understatement.
Snowdrop's schedule here is so routinized that I need not say no more than this: eat, read, exhale.
(tree climbing is so... yesterday)
(today? much more interested in analyzing human relations! like -- why do some people not get along? she has theories!)
And in the evening, I catch up with Ed. He'd been preoccupied with the testing of his new machine design. Once he is focused on something, it's impossible to get him to pay attention to anything else. Not a problem! There is always the dinner hour: frittata tonight. And a piece of chocolate. And shared stories about a very good day!
