It is a lovely windy night. There is a fresh breeze coming in the window. I had my bath and washed my hair. That felt so good. I hadn’t had my hair washed since Monday night, nor had a bath since Tuesday morning. I was feeling very grungy. Now I feel wonderful. 

My surgery happened at six thirty Tuesday morning. I am full of rejoicing at how the Lord has taken care of me through this whole thing. I have to say the surgery was a snap!--which is strange, because so many people were telling me how nasty it was. It went quickly and I was in recovery by eight thirty. I guess I was a little loopy afterwards, but still surprisingly, it was no more than I had expected. I left St. Anne’s on Thursday afternoon and came to Manor Care for rehab.

It seems as though I’ve been here for weeks. The staff are great. There is a nurse on duty at all times and the aides are excellent. They are generally prompt to answer when you call them and pleasant no matter how ridiculous your request. I feel as though I am imposing on people to ask them to do things for me that I ordinarily do for myself. Reaching the light cord or lifting my sore leg onto the bed. Or doing some other thing I should be able to do for myself but because of the surgery I can’t. I hate asking someone else to help me do those things

I was assisted with my shower by a nice young woman who gave me a lot of confidence in my being able to depend on her to hold me should I fall during the process. Some of the others worry me because I do know how heavy I am and when I out-weigh my helper by two or even three times, I’m not real sure they can hold me. Lisa is about my size and I knew that she could counterbalance my weight.

Shawnti was my aide the night when I first arrived. She is a perky young lady from West Virginia who was very willing to help me with any stupid thing I needed. I was happy to see her again tonight, even though she was working on the other end of the hall.

Becky is a very pretty woman who is of Ethiopian descent. She is the one who worries me most about counterbalancing. She is tiny and pretty. It seems like she should have some exotic difficult for me to pronounce name instead of something as mundane as “Becky.” She is probably my favorite.

Then there have been several others through, too. My first nurse was Gaye, a very heavy woman but patient and concerned. The lady coming on for morning shift is Connie; she is the opposite of Gaye. As heavy as Gaye is, Connie is thin. She, too, is caring and patient, if a little more organized and sprite. Osas came on shift at seven this evening. He is a young black man with a lovely accent, very well organized and caring too. I seem to be using the word ‘caring’ over and over, but that is imply the way they are.

My Physical Therapist is named Marcia. And she pronounces her name the way I have always thought it should be spoken: Mar-cee-a. I wasn’t allowed to walk around until she had done her assessment but once it was done she was very pleased with my progress. My bend angle was 71 degrees, up form 51 then 57! That apparently is very good for someone only3 days out of total knee replacement surgery!

Marcia took me outside and allowed me to sit in the pavilion this afternoon for a while. I enjoyed it, but would have liked it even more if I weren’t so very tired. Connie said the fatigue is a result of the surgery and everything I have been through the last few days. I’m sure that’s true, but I am just SO exhausted. I will be sitting and talking with someone and simply fall asleep in mid-sentence almost!

Speaking of that, I need to stop here or I’ll drop my laptop on the floor!