I’m home! I’m home WITH a brand spankin’ new knee! I’m bionic! I’ve got STRAIGHT legs!
I can’t walk worth a crap, but that’s beside the point.
And that will change over the next few weeks!
Much of what happened at the hospital was a blur, I confess. There was Dilaudid and Zofran involved, both of which don’t exactly help Mama with the ol’ linear-thinking thing.
But, um, one small item, which I had indeed forgotten, was remembered when we came home yesterday.
On the first night after the surgery, My Captain was beat. He was totally zonked. He had been waiting all day, in a full surgical waiting room, and was just getting over being sick, himself. So by 10pm, he was making some serious Z’s on the recliner chair beside my hospital bed. There was snoring and drooling involved. He was adorable. Poor guy.
But me? I had been unconscious for most of the day, mostly in drug-induced haze. By 10pm, I was raring to go! I was alert! I was happy! I was ready to party! I had a new knee in my leg after all (which, along with its partner, was tied down to the bed in inflating, anti-blood clot contraptions) so this was no time to be sleeping! Especially while I was enjoying the euphoric effects of my pain killer. Friends, Mama Boe was STONED. Legally, but totally, stoned.
I twiddled my thumbs while I thought about what I could do with my awake time. I watched My Captain sleep for entertainment, but that got old after a minute or so. I couldn’t turn the TV on, for fear of waking the tired man. I looked over and found my Kindle, all charged, and ready to go! YEY!
I played a few games, and then in my drunken stupor realized I had access to the hospital’s WiFi. That meant the internet! Before you can say “Paypal,” I was shopping online, baby!
I don’t remember much after that.
The next day, sometime in the afternoon during group Physical Therapy, I suddenly remembered doing something like that. I said to the woman next to me, “Hey, I think ….I’m not sure….but I think I was shopping on the internet last night….” She started laughing and cried, “Girlfriend! Your husband let you shop while on Dilaudid?!”
Which stopped me in my tracks. First of all, I wasn’t SURE I had shopped. I sure as heck didn’t know what I’d bought. And I sure as hell had not informed My Captain. He had enough on his worry plate!
I was anxious about this for the next thirty minutes, until the next dose of Dilaudid was injected, and then I stopped caring, frankly. And that was the last I thought about it.
When we pulled up to the door of The Little Cottage.
There, by the door, were several large UPS/Amazon type boxes, stacked like Christmas presents.
I looked at My Captain and immediately confessed, “Um, love? I think Drunk Me might have bought Sober Me a couple of gifts Monday night.”
Other than a smirk, his face showed no emotion. He was not surprised. Not one bit! He didn’t scold me. Instead he showed patience, and was happy to see what I’d purchased, before I, er returned them all!
UNTIL I rocked the new Dansko Clogs that Drunk Me had had the fantastic sense of style to purchase. Those I refused to part with. Oh, and the stained glass Cabin Accent Light.
I couldn’t possibly part with that.
He shook his head, especially when I was modeling the clogs with my walker,
(Which, when you have my kind of total-knee-replacement-swagger, can be somewhat overpowering.) and simply loved me. Both of me.
But I think he loves Sober Me better. Sober Me is a lot less expensive.