The physical therapist told Barbara she needn't make any more appointments. She can bend her knee 120 degrees, and almost completely flat (the other direction, of course). She had back to back appointments today, so she saw the surgeon too. Although he admitted that he didn't remember her knee because he has done 30 knee replacements since then, he too was impressed with her movement, and gave us license to ravel to Tennessee next week. She was kicked out of PT with her first knee replacement in a remarkable 3 weeks. Well, she did it again.
The secret is that she stepped on the edge of a box top the other day and fell on her derriere. I was not available to help her up, and so she sat there pondering her predicament. "How can I get to my feet without damaging my knee?" You see, these are the problems that are pondered more often than the problem of world hunger when you become a septuagenarian. Did I say this episode was a secret? Well it might have been a secret except Barbara has no pride. She blabbed fluently to the doctor, and anyone else she has been talking to about her knee. When I finished my important business and finally entered the room, there she was sitting awkwardly on the floor. After she assured me that she was not hurt, I tried to lift her from the floor, but I'm not the man I used to be. I gave it my best shot, but miserably failed. Before I could contrive a successful scenario, Barbara got on her newly replaced knee and pushed herself up with the other leg. I guess she is more healed than I realized. Now if I could just help her manage her pain a little better, I would feel like I'm worth her keeping me.