Saturday, June 9,2012
Jen is a wonderful neighbor. She’s always cooking up some fantastic dish and sending it over for us. She knew Holly was going out of town and had promised to drop by with food to help Jack and I through the week. I’d told her that steak and lobster was a known cure for a torn medical meniscus and she’d shown up the night before with a burger and some kind of fish…a poor man’s surf and turf. She was also Holly’s eyes and ears.
I was feeling pretty good Saturday morning sitting in my recliner with my ice pack wrapped around my knee. Holly was planning a trip to BJ’s and I was making some plans of my own. The surgeon had told me I’d be riding in a week, though I’d have to take it easy on those first few rides and that I could walk around the house, putting weight on the knee based on what I could tolerate. What I figured he wasn’t saying was if I could walk around the house, I could ride around the neighborhood…kind of the same thing. Anyway, I wanted to see what the range of motion was for my knee with the bike, but figured it would be much wiser to wait until Holly was out shopping. ‘Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,’ I always said.
I waited for ten minutes after she left before walking out to the garage and climbing on my bike. I just wore my slippers…I didn’t want to ‘clip in’ to the pedals since twisting my foot to get it back out was something I was sure even Lance wouldn’t do. I rolled down the driveway and out onto the road for a short ride to the corner…and a trip past Jen’s house. I saw her working on the side of her house as I passed and began to think that this wasn’t such a good idea. For all I knew, Holly had enlisted her to keep an eye on me anticipating a stunt like the one I was pulling. I turned my head away, thinking if she saw me, she’d think I was just another guy from the neighborhood…with a bandaged left knee…out for a bike ride. Well…she didn’t.
Holly returned home after an hour of shopping and came in to sit with me. Naturally, I’d returned to my chair and had my leg up and again packed in ice. Her phone vibrated. It was a text…and the news was not good.
“So…go for a little ride while I was out, did you?” she asked.
“Well…um…I…um…just to the corner to check my range of motion,” I said.
“Jen says if you pull another stunt like that she’s not bringing you anymore food,” Holly said.
Some Florence Nightengale, I thought. I tried to cover my blunder with excuses about the doctor said I could walk and that what I’d done was about the same thing, but she was having none of it. And the more I thought about it, I concluded even Lance wouldn’t have ridden 18 hours after major surgery so what was I thinking? Contritely, I backed off.
John stopped over for a visit and related he’d be under the knife again next Friday. His voice had still not returned and they were going in to see what they could do about it.
“You can’t stand that I’ve had surgery…and you haven’t in what…three weeks?”
We discussed some things which apparently we’d discussed the day before when John asked, “you don’t remember speaking to me yesterday, do you?”
“Um…nope,” I replied as we went into a discussion about the uselessness of the surgeon visit after surgery.
His neck and shoulder surgery were a complete bust and now the question is what will they do next and more importantly…will he be ready to climb with me in September. I can’t begin to imagine his frustration since I’m kind of stir crazy on my first twenty-four hours of inactivity. We decide that, no matter what, we’ll get something in this fall. He needs a goal and the mountains are a good one.
By the day’s end, I’m really starting to notice the surgery. My knee has become a little more swollen and there is definite pain, but not so bad that I feel the need for medication. More than ever, I realize that I need to rest and ice…and skip the short bike rides in the neighborhood. Besides, I’m sure now that the network goes beyond Jen’s yard.
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