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And young people wonder why the oldsters can only talk about their health
Because what else is there to talk about? Especially in this ongoing pandemic with its dearth of social interactions.
Last of the staples out of my knee. Everything looks much better than last week: not as grisly or waterbed swollen. So that's a relief. Bandage could come off today if I liked but I'll wait to Wednesday's physio because there's still a small unhealed split there that should close up in a day or two. And then, maybe, a shower, though I continue to be amazingly unsmelly. But have discovered two areas that require attention: behind the ears and between the toes.
Muscles continue to go into plywood plank mode far too often for comfort, and I continue to stretch and foam roller them several times a day in hopes of softening them up. Physio wants me to put the roller on top of the muscles or tendons and push and pull as if rolling out dough, but elbows will have no part of that. Have rousted out wooden rolling pin for this because elbows don't seem to mind that, but it's a little too hard for comfort.
Now have an immensely expensive ani- inflammatory cream-- 'what professional athletes use', says my doctor- but haven't tried it yet because pharmacist said to use it on damp skin. Hoping it works better than the muscle relaxants do. So far no repeat of that agonizing butt cramp, but hips are very uncooperative in the morning.
Met the local playwright yesterday on my way to the supermarket. She's the one recommended the surgeon and the hospital I finally went to. And probably a good thing, because the group it belongs to (TO Western, TO General, and the cancer hospital) are the only ones scheduling surgeries on weekends in a bid to clear the backlog of cases. She had her hip done and found it exhausting, but didn't get the bruising I did. And said she didn't do all the exercises they told her to-- 'there just isn't the time.' There are advantages to being nonworking and solitary: I have no papers to mark- J teaches because playwrighting doesn't pay that well-- or family to look after-- because I never see any of her offspring bringing laden bundle buggies back from the store.
Temperatures yo-yo around here. It was 18C on Saturday and 7 on Sunday, and the leaf mold has come back to life. The explosive sneezes and tickle cough were driving me crazy, so tonight I had a swig of my opiate cough syrup, which has for once given me that mellow buzz that opioids are supposed to provide but so rarely do.
And that's about it in my exciting convalescence.
Last of the staples out of my knee. Everything looks much better than last week: not as grisly or waterbed swollen. So that's a relief. Bandage could come off today if I liked but I'll wait to Wednesday's physio because there's still a small unhealed split there that should close up in a day or two. And then, maybe, a shower, though I continue to be amazingly unsmelly. But have discovered two areas that require attention: behind the ears and between the toes.
Muscles continue to go into plywood plank mode far too often for comfort, and I continue to stretch and foam roller them several times a day in hopes of softening them up. Physio wants me to put the roller on top of the muscles or tendons and push and pull as if rolling out dough, but elbows will have no part of that. Have rousted out wooden rolling pin for this because elbows don't seem to mind that, but it's a little too hard for comfort.
Now have an immensely expensive ani- inflammatory cream-- 'what professional athletes use', says my doctor- but haven't tried it yet because pharmacist said to use it on damp skin. Hoping it works better than the muscle relaxants do. So far no repeat of that agonizing butt cramp, but hips are very uncooperative in the morning.
Met the local playwright yesterday on my way to the supermarket. She's the one recommended the surgeon and the hospital I finally went to. And probably a good thing, because the group it belongs to (TO Western, TO General, and the cancer hospital) are the only ones scheduling surgeries on weekends in a bid to clear the backlog of cases. She had her hip done and found it exhausting, but didn't get the bruising I did. And said she didn't do all the exercises they told her to-- 'there just isn't the time.' There are advantages to being nonworking and solitary: I have no papers to mark- J teaches because playwrighting doesn't pay that well-- or family to look after-- because I never see any of her offspring bringing laden bundle buggies back from the store.
Temperatures yo-yo around here. It was 18C on Saturday and 7 on Sunday, and the leaf mold has come back to life. The explosive sneezes and tickle cough were driving me crazy, so tonight I had a swig of my opiate cough syrup, which has for once given me that mellow buzz that opioids are supposed to provide but so rarely do.
And that's about it in my exciting convalescence.