Plans

I made 

Plans before going off to Hospital, to have my new knee fitted.

As is always the way with Plans, life takes over, and the Plans never seem to work out the way we imagined they would.

I bought this new little bed for Honey, thinking she could sleep in it, until I was strong enough to lift her on & off my bed.

While I was away, she did, in fact use it, (though not while she was staying at my Granddog's house- he claimed it then, and she chose my daughter's bed! and stayed there, whether my son in law approved or not!)  and was very cosy during the stormy cold weather and even the warmer weather breaks.

Once I was home, Honey decided she wanted to be on the bed again, so we had a few discussions about the fact that I could not be leaping out of bed to ferry her to food, water, and comfort stops.
It all worked out OK in the end and I soon devised methods of doing her bidding! haha.

My son bought me some Pre-Op flowers before the Hospital visit, which I thought was a very nice touch.
I was also spoilt with in-Hosp flowers, but I neglected to take any pics.

The Hospital stay became another lost  Plan.

I developed some problems which no one foresaw, so I had to have blood transfusions, and oxygen, and Ventolin, and antibiotics, and an extra 3 days stay in the Hospital.

Gave me time to observe some really comical antics and examine the state of other patients reactions to various events.

I confess the first 3 days are very hazy, and at one stage I thought I had been transferred to another Hospital! Which caused much hilarity to the Doctors. I suspect it was the extremely strong painkillers I had to take, and am still taking.

Another hitch was an infection in the site, for which I am still on medication, and it still causes me ugly degrees of pain. I have composed a lot of posts, in my head,  since my return, but the pain of sitting in a chair at the computer just plain beat me to the floor!

I must say, the actual function of the knee is doing really well, and so I persevere with the pain barrier. Plus, each day seems a little better, if only in patches.

I was in a ward with 3 other ladies, one with a broken spine, from a hideous accident where she fell from a small terrace, and her friend also fell, and landed on top of her! She was in a great deal of pain, and there seemed to be little that could be done for her. At least she was not paralyzed, but she had very limited movement, and a horrible brace contraption, which reduced her to tears every time they fitted it on her.

Another lady had dementia, and had fallen and broken her hip. She was everyone's darling, such a sweet little person, and she woke me one night, calling my name, and said "Meg I love you." I was astonished, but replied I loved her too, and she went back off to sleep.

The other lady had had a knee replacement the same as mine, but she did not understand why she couldn't have blood tansfusions and oxygen like me. She was from a foreign country, and did not speak very good English, and she was very resentful if I got to have first shower. She became convinced I was getting special treatment, and though the nurses assured her it was not so, she remained somewhat sour in her attitude to me. She seemed to be like me, in that she had a horrific level of pain, and to be fair to her, she was 84! Why would you bother, at that age? I kept asking myself. I have promised myself if the other knee breaks down I will not have it replaced.

Foreign lady decided she did not want to go home, on the day I was being discharged, and she refused a shower, and sulked away. The Physio girls came to talk to her, and the nurses told her she was ready to go home. Doctor had been around, and told her she could go home. Her desperate daughter was pleading with her to let her take her home. Finally I could see no progress, so I made myself a busybody, and told her I really admired her for her courage and her progress. Whe she said she couldnt lift her leg the same as me, I assured her I was a lot younger, and she was doing very well. With that she broke into a smile and declared she would go home after all! Much to the relief of everyone.

They do warn it is very painful, but they can never indicate how hideous the pain will actually be. I would rather give birth to 4 babies than live through that again.

One of the things that made me laugh was the procession of visitors the foreign lady had. Her lovely daughter and son came to visit often, but it was other visitors who gave me much cause to laugh. One short stout aging couple came huffing and puffing in one afternoon. The woman was smiling defiantly, and had very flushed cheeks. Her hostile husband more or less came in swinging with rage and indignation over something, and they proceeded to have a blazing row, all in their own toungue, which was a pity really as I would have liked to know what it was all about. Body language and pitch of voice can give away many secrets. I was not surprised that the male shouted something nasty sounding and stormed off out of the ward, ignoring the patient, who had sat in bed, very quietly. His rotund little wife pinned a smile on her red face, muttered what I assume was goodbye to her friend and she departed too.

I could not help but wonder why people would come to visit a sick person, put on a hideous display like that and rage off?

I had asked my friends and family not to visit, as I feel there is little to talk about, and seeing as I was drugged to the eyeballs, it seemed I fell asleep at the drop of a walking frame.

My family ingnored my pleas, and did visit- my son every day, bless him, though I told him he didn't need to.

I had made a foolish mistake by asking for Vegetarian food, as I had been told that was the best food/diet. Somehow the Vegetarian got changed to 'veglac' whatever that is, but I can tell you, it was horrible, and they even managed to stuff up lentils, which I rather like. There was also something called a Nut Loaf on the menu, and when I finally decided to give it a try, I was bitterly disappointed to find it tasted foul, and looked like a roll of dog food. I loathe milk so in the end I had very little variance in the daily diet, and attempts to get it changed proved fruitless. So, should I ever be in Hospital again, I will just ask for Full diet.I hasten to add, while Hospital food is never wonderful, the general meals I saw others having, seemed to be perfectly nice to me!

My lovely daughter probably saved my life, by making me the most delicious omelet I have ever tasted, and then my son brought me some lovely fried rice.

We are having very humid weather, and they skies are sullen and grumpy looking. When it rains, far from cooling things down, it increases the humidity.

I have had some bad days, but feel as I heal, my mood is lightening. I did not wish to post, while down in the dumps.

I am getting out my quilty books and thinking about sewing, once I can sit for longer periods of time. I can walk without my walking stick about the house, but still use it for outdoors.

Jean Michel Jarre, Oxygene 2

'New' Histories.

I have a theory that we all re-write our history constantly. Editing, changing small details. Usually we strive to have the history memory show ourselves in a favourable light.

I am often amazed to hear a friend's version of an event we both witnessed.
Relatives seem to have very different memories of events, even though everyone was present for the same occasion.

"That is odd" I think, "I dont seem to remember it being quite like your version"

I suspect, that everyone, who does something they later query the wisdom of, or doubt, begins to justify their actions, and rationalise the behaviour. It would seem to be human nature.

Over time, I have finally learnt, not to insist contradict, or present my own version.
At the end of the day, weeks, months, or years, it does not matter a jot, who has the more accurate recollection.

I tell myself it will all be irrelavent in a hundred years. I suppose the wonderful stories of our ancestors' supposed humourous doings, are mostly made up, or retold so often, they have no bearing on the original event.
I guess photographs are a better record of the past, but I have found even they can lie, or give a very false impression.

I have a lot of letters I wrote to my mother, and she kept them to re-read, and I am quite surprised to read of things I have forgotten. I have some of her letters to me, and two precious letters my Grandmother wrote to both of us.

It seems sad to think that letter writing is a dying art, and very soon, even emails will possibly be 'old hat'.

***
I often think of the odd expressions that were part of my childhood.

There were many, such as 'As useless as a one legged man in an ar$e kicking competition.'

Or 'As useless as a one armed paper hanger.'

I once told my daughter, when she was a rebellious teenager, that 'Perhaps it is time for you to hump your bluey!'
She was utterly dumbfounded, and later, when the heat had cooled from the disagreement, asked me what it meant.
I suppose I must have learnt it from my Australian grandfather, as it means to take your 'bluey', which was a man's bedroll as he made his way around the country, searching for work. Therefore to 'hump the bluey' referred to packing up the bedroll, and other meagre possesions, and slinging them over his shoulder, or hanging it upon his back, and moving on.

Those poor old chaps would have loved to have a modern Backpack!

This cloud does not appear to have a silver lining, but does, however,  appear to have a golden silhouette.
***
Now, I have just discovered a pie I was cooking has overflowed and the contents are burnt onto the bottom of the oven!
Drat!

Augie March, There is No Such Place.