Big wheels keep on rolling, but small wheels sometimes get stuck in the mud that is life in the slow lane.
After nearly two weeks of birthday fun and festivities (seriously TWO weeks), my small wheels have come to a screeching halt with the annoying side effects turning seventy-three sometimes brings. Yes, drum roll, please.
Knee replacement is in my immediate future…like this week. Pretty and I have been to our class where I received my TJR (total joint replacement) bright green folder with the cheery symbols of I don’t know what on the cover and tons of information about my life for the foreseeable future if I survive surgery which has a 93% success rate with a 1% chance of infection, 5% chance of stiffness that requires one additional surgery, 2% chance of kneecap pain correctable with additional surgery, and oh yes, less than 1% chance of blood clots that cause death if not treated.
Too much information. Throw away this brochure.
Three days ago I had a total meltdown in front of Pretty and told her I had decided to opt out of TJR – not going to do it – no way, no how. I suggested she take the keys to the car with her if she left the house because I was planning a getaway with the dogs to an undisclosed location until the surgery deadline had passed.
But the next day I decided to get a grip and get on with it. Pretty deserves better than my shelf life, and so do I; besides, we have a granddaughter on the way this October – she deserves better, too.