Year of the Knee – update

End of Week One of knee replacement #2 (my husband’s not mine) and I’m pleased to report I have achieved “angel of mercy” status. Oh the power of being in charge of the pain meds!

I did slip into “Annie Wilkes mode” once, when I told my husband I had unexpectedly closed the Activity Ring on my AppleWatch “waiting on his ass.” That was mean, admittedly, but at least I was putting my service in a positive light. Turns out that running up and down the stairs to get things, lugging bags of ice, filling and lugging the “polar cube,” and doing all the daily chores myself (loading/unloading dishwasher, cooking, trash and recycling, etc) burns up a decent amount of calories. I can’t be sedentary for too long.

He’s been trying his best to be a good patient, which I appreciate, but knee replacement is really pretty gruesome. The extreme pain, the swelling, the bruising, the leg full of staples…fortunately not too much bleeding from the incision (and the in-home physical therapist deals with bandage changes—phew)

I think things will start feeling better when the staples come out next week.

In the meantime, we are bingeing The Traitors with Alan Cumming on Peacock, which our daughter got us into. It’s pretty entertaining, for a reality competition show. Who doesn’t love a Scottish castle? And Alan’s outfits are over-the-top in the best way.

A lovely bouquet from our very thoughtful daughter and her husband
It’s lasted all week—and now the tulips are opening.
I might try to paint this one very beautiful rose.

Oh and with this knee, we’ve added cannabis to the pain regime. He’s finding that a strategically timed gummy can enhance and lengthen the effect of the prescribed pharmaceuticals.

Aaah, I finally turned my husband into a stoner like me. It only took 33 years.

EPIC sports fail

I have a confession to make. We didn’t have a lot going on yesterday. We met with our financial advisor in the morning. (He annoyed me by referring to Kamala Harris as Ka-MA-la—mispronouncing her name in that dismissive, racist, sexist way that Republican men do.) Once we got rid of his bald ass, I decided to settle in and watch TV for hours. I really wanted to enjoy my favorite Winter Olympics event—figure skating. Live.

The men’s finals long program was starting at 12:30 and I was psyched. My husband, who is still strapped to a chair with a polar ice machine on his knee a lot of the day, watched with me. We really got into it. Yes, there were a lot of falls, but there was a lot of gorgeous artistry and crazy athleticism too. I cried when Max Naumov, the skater from Massachusetts who lost both his parents in the DC plane crash last year, went out and skated poorly, but made it through. For him, just being there at all was Gold. It was so, so poignant.

The entire afternoon was leading up to the “Quad God” Ilia Malinin who was definitely, positively going to win the Gold Medal. There was no way he wouldn’t, especially since the other skaters had fallen so many times and he is a once-in-a-generation talent. Even my childhood idol Dorothy Hamill was there to watch.

It was approaching 5pm, so I went ahead and had a gummy, just to enhance the experience of watching this young man WOW us—LIVE. I even texted my son at work to let him know that Quad God was about to skate. Ilia looked great—so relaxed—as he skated out to win his gold.

Oh my GOD.

I have never seen such an epic sports FAIL on a bigger stage in my life. (Granted, I’m not much of a sports fan, but still.)

Just Google it.

The Olympics can break your heart, if you let them.

Hillary PTSD

My get-out-the-vote calls went pretty well today. It was actually kind of fun. I talked to left-leaning voters from Pennsylvania. Many had already voted for Kamala and were willing to reach out to friends and family to do the same. One young man from Erie County, PA told me he wasn’t just excited, he was ECSTATIC to make Kamala Harris the next President of the United States.

So why don’t I feel better? Where’s my joy? Why am I SO anxious?

Because I remember 8 years ago…

Here I am in my cute little pantsuit (which no longer fits) on November 8, 2016, heading out to help elect Hillary Clinton as our first woman president. I was so excited and happy. Joyful!

And then….

Utter despair, bitter disappointment, disbelief, and a huge amount of anger at every single person who saw fit to pull the lever for Mr. Grab-em-by-the-Pussy Donald Trump.

Tomorrow (US Election Day) is going to be rough. I’m going to wear my new KA-MA-LA t-shirt and buy some celebratory champagne, but I also have to prepare myself for the worst. I have Hillary PTSD. Of course I’m hoping against hope that it’ll be a Kamala landslide and red states will start dropping early on. (My fantasy is that Florida miraculously goes blue by 9pm.) But that’s probably not going to happen. It’s probably going to be some sort of a protracted nail biter like Biden/Trump in 2020. (It took four days from Election Day for CNN to declare Biden the winner.)

The one and only good thing about the November 8, 2016 election was that Massachusetts legalized recreational cannabis the very same night. And that is the only reason I’ve made it through the past eight years.

May the Trump Era in the United States of America end tomorrow.

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