pensnest | Entries tagged with hip progress

My scar is amazingly smooth now. There was a little rough piece at each end, one of which I snipped off a couple of days ago, the other came off this morning. I've been smearing goo on it every night, and had to check the mirror to find the unscabbed end last night! It's quite miraculous, or so it feels. And yesterday we walked up to Aldi together, shopped and returned without (boo!) a pause at the café, with me walking mostly independently and sans crutch, as Beast was towing our little cart.

On the way up the road, we went to a little local Close, because something had been delivered to us which appeared to belong there. Number 18, but in a Close instead of a Lane.

There was no #18 in that Close.

#11 was right next to #14—okay, it makes more sense if you know that in English streets, the numbering very often goes: odd numbers on one side, even numbers on t'other. And this was a Close, so they met. The builders had considerately decided not to have a #13. Anyway. The postman was obviously as baffled as we were, but we have re-posted the card with stern warnings on the front that (a) these people are not known at our house, and (b) there is no #18, XX Close. I wonder whether we will see it again.

Alas, the humungous pile of ironing awaits.

The Christmas cards are arriving, which is always a cheering time. Thank you to

frausorge,

dine,

turlough and

rikes.

Things are surprisingly busy here, though mostly for my Beast, who has been out singing so frequently in the last week or so. Happily I quite like having the house to myself, and as I can manage perfectly well around the house without the crutches now, he can go out with a clear conscience. I even managed to put my own socks on this morning, using on my left foot the cunning little contraption loaned by a friend who had her hips done a few years ago. You put the sock onto the contraption, put your foot into the contraption, and haul it up your leg using the long straps, then extract the leg. Tres clever.

I had a physio session on Monday which went very well, and am now booked for six weeks of 'hip class' in the New Year. Meep. Perhaps by then I shall be allowed to drive myself thither. Beast has been adding Chauffeur to his increased list of duties of late. Have been up to the shops again twice this week, once without Beast but with crutch, and once with Beast and no crutch. It is very fortunate to have a nice little café amongst the shops, as I'm not quite sure about walking there, shopping, and coming back without a bit of a sit down. No doubt I could do it if I had to. Tho not pulling the little cart we now have for our shopping! I took my rucksack on Wednesday, and managed to fill it but staggered home okay.

Beast and I watched Blitz on Apple TV yesterday. It was good, and I recommend it to anyone who has access. A full spectrum of human behaviour during wartime, and a very appealing young lad.

Beast and I watched Deadpool and Wolverine a couple of days ago. No spoilers, but if I wanted to watch mindless, stupid, choreographed, repetitive and completely pointless violence for a couple of hours I could have been a wrestling fan. The movie majored on icky violence and bad language, some of which (not enough) was funny, but forgot the inexplicable charm of the first Deadpool film. And to include a coherent storyline. I wouldn't bother if I were you.

Why is it that so much entertainment these days involves brutality and death? I'm not talking about murder mysteries, because they are in essence about justice, about making sure that perpetrators are caught and held responsible. And also about figuring out whodunnit, although that is not always true, depending on the writing. But the superhero stuff is all about being able to kill people in Really Cool Ways, and there are so many non-superhero stories around that just seem to rely on killing as providing the solution to problems. It cannot be good for us. The recent murder of a healthcare CEO is a case in point: I cannot bring myself to feel sorry for the guy, or to hope that the perpetrator is caught, even though I don't approve of murder. And I'm not at all surprised at the reactions I'm seeing on places like Reddit.

But as a society, resorting to killing instead of sorting out problems is a really, really bad path to be going down.

*

( state of the me )

I won at breakfast today.

It's the long gym morning - normally we both do Yoga together at 0915, after which Beast has a spin class and I go into the gym and escape a bit early so's I can have a coffee in the caff there. Today, of course, he's there on his own - I am not yet permitted to bend more than 90 degress, and if you cannot bend you cannot yogue. (I bet I could do a mean plank, but then I wouldn't be able to get up.)

So I shambled up to the shops, just me and my crutch and my string hippo ballerina bag with "I don't sweat, I sparkle" on my back. Had a really excellent bacon sandwich - better bread than the bland commercial roll I had expected, possibly ciabatta, and well stuffed with bacon - and a pot of tea. A++, will eat again, probably next Wednesday.

Then I hauled myself along the road a bit to the butcher, put in a Christmas order, and invited one of the butchers to Christmas lunch. Well, he was telling me about the Archers Cheese Box (which sounds very desirable) and that when he goes to Christmas lunch with friends, he takes them just such a Box, so naturally.... Alas, he was already booked.

After that, a quick trip to Aldi for mushrooms, and I stumped home again, competent but slow.

I feel positively accomplished! And it is nice to get out of the house.

https://www.billboard.com/music/pop/jc-chasez-playing-with-fire-nsync-christina-aguilera-1235817727/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plof8F_x1xs

Oh JC. Yes. I could wish the 'sleeve notes' had a bit about the concept and story, but I'm glad this thing exists. And delighted to find that JC enjoys musical theatre, which is something I had not previously noticed.

https://theatreweekly.com/playing-with-fire-new-musical-theatre-concept-album-from-nsyncs-jc-chasez-jimmy-harry-released/

https://playbill.com/article/nsyncs-jc-chasez-and-pop-songwriter-jimmy-harry-break-down-their-frankenstein-musical

Has anyone else listened to this? Can we talk about it?

*

I walked to the shops at the top of the street this morning with my Beast. It's usually a 7-minute walk, but with my current short steps it took a bit longer. We stopped at the café and had a pot of tea and a brownie, and a conversation with a very cute two and a half year old blond lad who seemed keen to chat though not very well practiced. Realised rather too late that we should have walked up there to have a magnificent breakfast, but maybe another time.

Beast then went off with his chorus for much of the rest of the day... I made some Christmas gift tags, searched out JC's new project for a bit, watched a bit of tv. Watched Beast's progress back from Gorleston and had the chilli timed just right for when he got home in his concert finery.

All of which has been quite hard work, so it's bedtime.

I have a dressing which reaches from mid-buttock to the outer edge of my upper thigh. It's approximately the shape and size (though without the volume) of a large banana, ~~duct~~ taped to my body. Of course, since it is utilitarian rather than conceptual there will be no simple-minded human dildos lining up to pay $6 million for it, but I find I prefer it that way. Why is it that possession of ludicrous amounts of money turns presumably normal-level dickish human beings into such dross? If I had $6 million I could make other people's lives better.

( Cut for details of my recovery so far, basically for my future self's benefit )

We have been watching La Maison (2024) on Apple TV. I wish more people were watching Apple TV, there is some good stuff on there! This is a show about a fashion house and its family, and the business goings-on which have their roots in old family animosity. It has characters who can be sympathetic and infuriating by turns, but they all seem real, and interesting, and plausible.

It is making it a little difficult for me to sleep, however! I find that as I'm trying to drift into a possible story while lying in the dark, my story comes to me with French cadence and words. I'm no longer anywhere near fluent enough to be able to dream in French, I did that with German years ago when I was staying with a German penfriend as a schoolgirl, and found that my lack of vocabulary stopped the dream and woke me up. But it is quite fun to have a show in French. We are both conversant enough to get more out of the script when there is a translation to guide us, and can detect the differences between what the subtitles say and what we hear.

We'll be watching the sequel season, assuming there is one. I hope the show will make it to Yuletide next year.

*

My Yuletide story still evades me as I don't think I have the concentration to write it quite yet, but I do have ideas, and even a little bit written.

*

Oh, yes, Happy Thanksgiving, to those of you who are celebrating it. May you have congenial companions and delicious things to eat.

Well. I have been filleted, drilled and sewn back together, so now I have a new hip. It all seems to have gone very well. I'd been down as last on the list for the day but the anaesthetist decided that as I'm diabetic I should be moved up, so I was done second. This worked out well for me. By the mid-afternoon I was able to enjoy a nice cup of tea and a yogurt, and had a full dinner that evening - I wonder if a very nice dinner is a particular perk of going to a private hospital? I was an NHS patient, and I have an idea that most NHS patients needing new hips or knees these days are sent to private hospitals. This works out well all around: we are not in the big hospitals with people who are actually ill, and the private consultants specialise in (presumably lucrative) joint replacements so they get plenty of practise at it. There's no emergency care at the private hospital I attended.

The doctors - I saw three, my surgeon, my anaesthetist and a general doctor - were meticulous and pleasant, but the nursing staff were absolutely lovely: friendly, kind, matter-of-fact and profession as required. It was oddly reassuring to be asked my name, date of birth, and what I was there for every time someone came in to do something - and I had a large arrow drawn on my left thigh and initialled by the surgeon!

Anyway. After physio on Friday morning, plus blood tests and what not, I was eventually discharged at 3pm, and supplied with crutches and an elevated loo seat. Getting into the car was an interesting struggle, but it was nice to be home. Sable was not impressed, though, by me lumping about with Sticks. We had kept the adaptable chair we bought for Grandpa, which elevates so as to enable me to get out, and then in, so it is easy for me to get into and out of, which is pleasant, I don't think Grandpa ever used it to do anything other than sit in. I'm learning to plan ahead for things like making breakfast, which is a very longwinded business since I cannot easily carry the made breakfast anywhere and have to slide it along the kitchen island instead.

So I'm crutching about quite satisfactorily, going up and down stairs in the approved manner, and managing to swing myself out of bed, though not quite into bed yet. The exercises are getting easier. I have a bunch of extra pills and gloopy liquids to take every day for various reasons, and Beast is being splendid about keeping track of them. He is proving a very useful companion for me while I'm semi-helpless, as I knew he would. Unfortunately I do keep him running around after me, because of the need to move things up and down the stairs and so forth. But for this morning I am now settled in my chair and ready to relax.