Hello to all those that take time out to review my errant ramblings, I do sincerely appreciate it.  I must apologize for being a bit tardy of late with any new posts.  I have two excuses:

1. Even though I enjoy sharing my musings, placing myself in a position where some folks may come to expect them can become a daunting task. I am reminded of an episode from the old “Mayberry RFD” show (10/6/1969) where the town clerk, Howard Sprague, is recognized for his ability to write poetry.  The state’s literary magazine, “The Carolina Pen and Quill” has decided to initiate a new poetry section in its monthly magazine and they ask Howard to write the inaugural poem.  Everything starts off well, and Howard relishes the attention, but then the dreaded writer’s block sets in.  The rest of the show includes various scenes of Howard struggling to find his muse and the folks from town trying to provide inspiration.  Ultimately, the next month’s meeting of the local literary society meets and Aunt Bee kicks things off by reading the inaugural poem from the state’s literary magazine’s new poetry section.  The poem is written by Howard Sprague and the title of the poem tells you everything you need to know, it was entitled “What If I Fail?”.
2. I have also been dealing with a health issue of late that has had me distracted… I drew the short straw and had to have my right hip replaced. Ugh!

So going forward, just so you know, I am not going to pressure myself to meet any schedule.  That was never really my intent.  I always figured that I’d wait for something to draw my attention and go from there.   I hope you will take a few minutes to check them out as they arrive…

This leads me to my new blog.  My inspiration is the lovely fun and games I’ve had to deal with over the last week, and for the next several.  I’ve been dealing with hip issues for about a year now and had gotten two cortisone shots to avoid the inevitable.  At my last appointment with my orthopedic surgeon, he told me the hip was getting worse.  He asked if I was ready to get this taken care of?  I’ll admit that I continued to struggle with the decision.  Sure, if I was on it a lot my hip would bother me, but it didn’t hurt that bad.  But the doctor pointed out that it would be much worse if I waited till it did hurt that bad… Ultimately, I just ran out of excuses and scheduling allowed me to enjoy Thanksgiving before surgery and be well on my way to recovery by Christmas.  So, on Tuesday, November 28^th, I showed up at the surgery center at 6 AM to start my transition to becoming a cyborg.  This also marked the end to any innocence that this 66-year-old curmudgeon had left.  So, here’s my report of what I’ve experienced and learned over the past week… and will be dealing with for some time to come.

• Within a few minutes of showing up at the surgery center I was in a surgery prep room and had sacrificed all of my clothing for the lovely backless gown and booties they provide you. I’m laying there on the gurney talking with Kim when this young 20 something comes in to tell me that she is there to shave me.  So, here’s your first headline related to hip replacement, they shave the leg being operated on from ankle to bellybutton.  I am now essentially naked on a gurney with my wife, Kim, observing as this young lass shaves me while making small talk!  By the end I told her that I thought she should have at least bought me dinner.  Oh, and the process of being shaved isn’t just a momentary incident that you can try to block from your memory.  Try forgetting it happened while your leg is itching like mad as new hair comes in and you’re still dealing with razor burn!!!
• The rest of the actual surgery went as expected… I guess. Anesthesia came in to give me something to help me relax and the next thing I knew I was in recovery.  However, my memory of this event was expanded thanks to Kim.  You see, they came into my prep room and explained everything that was going to be happening and how they would keep her informed.  They explained that it takes some time to place me in the proper position for this surgery, 30 minutes or more, and that they would call her when the surgery started.  Once I was discharged and back home on Wednesday afternoon, 11/29, Kim got curious about the positioning necessary for hip replacement, so she looked it up on Google.  Oh, how I wish she could have kept this newfound knowledge to herself.  But no, she had to show me a variety of photos of a guy that could have been me buck naked, lying on his side with his legs in a variety of positions (some of which I think I have seen in Swan Lake)!  My only solace for this indignity is knowing that the surgeon had to stare at my butt for a couple of hours…
• After recovery I was transferred to a room for at least one night to make sure everything was OK. At first this seemed to be an OK deal.  I was still drugged up and they let me order a cheeseburger.  Ah, that’s how they lull you into a sense of security.  Shortly after enjoying my burger, the therapy nazis start showing up.  I mean it hasn’t even been 3 hours since the surgery and the PT is getting me up to use a walker and prove that I can still pee.  Then comes the OT to teach me how to dress myself without bending my right leg beyond 90 degrees (calf to thigh and thigh to torso).  Heck, I’m a weight challenged individual that hasn’t seen his toes in many years and now they expect me to be able to navigate a reaching aid (Kim and I affectionately refer to it as the snapper grabber) to pull my underwear and sweats over my feet and up my legs till I can reach them.
• It was also during this therapy period that I perfected the “beached whale” pose. So here I am sitting on the left side of the bed, and they want me to lay down.  The problem is that I am firmly convinced that my right leg has been bound to the floor.  Trying to lift it and swing it into bed just wasn’t happening.  They suggest that I lay back and try it.  So now, here I am with my torso strewn sideways across the bed, my right leg dangling unresponsive and my left leg trying to push the right leg up onto the bed… and there you have it, the beached whale.  I did finally get the hang of it, but I must say that this may be the most painful thing I am dealing with.  Trying to rotate that leg in and out of bed is a pain… oh and don’t even get me started on trying to get it out from under the covers!
• My final hospital related indignity occurred at bedtime. I’m sure that you have heard that hospitals are terrible places to try and sleep… well, they aren’t kidding.  I’m sharing my room with another fella named Dave (that made for a bit of fun) and we both decided to pack it in by around 10 PM.  For the next two and a half hours there is constantly someone coming in to do something.  I think my roomie was on diuretics and he was calling the nurses’ station routinely to go to the bathroom.  He needed additional pain medicine.  They needed to check our vitals.  They needed to give me another dose of IV antibiotics (which, by the way, lasts 25 minutes and then the IV starts beeping).  Finally, at around 12:30 AM everyone was gone, and the room was sort of dark.  Then, at the crack of 5 AM the nurse comes in, saying “good morning” and starts everything all over again.  I pointed out to this young nurse that 5 AM and “good morning” did not go together.  She found this hysterical and had to share it with anyone else that came into the room to disturb my slumber.  By 6 AM I gave up and started playing solitaire on my phone.
• Since getting home, and as the days have passed, things have continued to improve. Getting in and out of bed is still a pain and am anxiously awaiting the arrival of a sock puller so that I can finally dress myself completely without assistance.  The final indecency and frustration appears to lie with the “toilet gymnastics”, which I think could become a new Olympic sport.  There is just nothing easy (or graceful) about going to the bathroom when you’re wider (just slightly) than the elevated toilet you’re using and lack the use of one of your legs.  I will not go into the colorful details… I’ll leave it to your imaginations.

Welp, there it is.  My innocence is lost but I am hopefully on the road to a recovery that will find me better off physically than I’ve been in years.  I am also now ready for my next role.  After what I’ve been through, I am quite sure that I can perform in “The Full Monty” without any hesitation.  God help anyone who’d come to see me in such a role!