Teeny Weeny Baby Steps

Sunday, November 16th — Just to get caught up, here’s what happened in my November 5th re-exam. I was, needless to say, pretty disappointed that it wasn’t more significant. The graph shows an infinitesimal slant upwards, and the numbers show that I have gained only POINT TWO PERCENT over October’s total. (In October, I had regained 72% of the functions observed to be abnormal; in November, only 72.2%. Aarrrrggh!

BUT: by some strange quirk of fate, or whatever, “Leg Short Left” has been rectified. That is, the leg that was shorter by an inch than the other… and then by half an inch… was, at that moment in time, on that date, back to its old equal self.

DK:    Hey, how about that! Your legs are even again… wait a minute, are you cheating?

ME:    (innocently) What do you mean, cheating? How can I cheat when I’m lying here on my front?

DK:   I can feel your muscles tense up while I’m checking the leg. I think you’re cheating!

ME:   Awww… rats! Well, yes, I was just kind of stretching my leg, just to see if I could get it even. But now I’m not doing anything, I’m just lying here.

DK:   Okay, don’t stretch it, just let me check it… yeah, it does look even. Jeez, I’ve had plenty of people cheat to try to look worse than they are, but I’ve never had a patient cheat to try to look better!

ME    (sheepishly) Yeah, well, that’s me, all right, always trying to Improve Myself a bit.

Anyway, cheating or not, it does appear that we’ve managed to get that short leg back to its real true length. Now I need to work on not limping; it’s probably just a habit by now, since I was favoring the left leg for such a long time after the revisional hip replacement two years ago.

I am planning to go back to Cambridge, MA, for my 50th reunion at Harvard in June — and I would love to be able to walk without the cane by then. I expect all of us old geezers are slathering on the wrinkle cream, highlighting the hair, trying to lose ten or twenty pounds; in the case of the guys, probably investing in Rogaine… “hell’s bells,” as my father used to say: I don’t need a cane on top of all that!  Nobody thinks they will still look twenty-one, but nobody wants to look old enough for a 50th reunion, either! I bet there is a lot of cosmetic surgery being planned by the Class of ‘59, in preparation for this gathering.

I wouldn’t even go, if it weren’t for the fact that my daughter lives in Reading, only a few little towns away from Cambridge. It’s an opportunity to stay with her for a few days and see the grandboys, who will by then be five and a half and almost three. I will keep you posted as to my progress with learning to walk like a normal person.

Thanks for reading — Betsy