I had my two-week knee check-up today with my surgeon. I can now shed my crutches and the CPM machine. I only have to wear the knee-immobilizer when I’m out of the house. I can go for walks, drive, and if I want, I can try swimming (ugh) and bicycling (yeah). My rehab therapist says I’m about a week ahead of schedule, so he’s nonstop on the warnings to not overdo it. I’ve been good so far.
I get an occasional pang of longing for more activity, especially these past few Indian summer days. Seeing and hearing motorcycles tends to trigger it, but I counter with a gentle mental whack, “It’s okay, you’ll likely have plenty of these days to enjoy next year. Plus, there’s lots of shit to enjoy right here.” And so I’ve been listening to some classical piano music that I’ve never heard before. And closely watching some of the playoff baseball games on TV. And, believe it or not, I’m reading a novel, The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen. Unbelievably good. I never read a novel unless I’m on vacation.
So yeah, it’s a pisser to be laid up, but life’s still good.