The Masochist

Last Friday I had surgery for a "partial" knee replacement in my right knee. Technically this is called a Unicompartmental Knee Replacement, which in layman's terms means installing a small "cartilage replacement" prosthesis in the section of the knee where the original cartilage has worn down to bone on bone. Since I have already had a successful total knee replacement on the left side five years ago, I knew what to expect - but some things have changed.

The surgery was at 7:30 am and took about two hours. After a short time in recovery I was moved to the room I would occupy for the next two days. At noon that same day, a Physical Therapist shows up and says , "Would you like to take a walk?" I thought she was kidding, but she was not. So five hours after surgery I was walking down the hall (using a walker) on my new knee! The general consensus among surgeons nowadays is the sooner you can start therapy the quicker recovery will start - someone should have asked the patients for their opinion. After a walk this first day, I started on full sets of exercises the second day, including climbing stairs using crutches.

One of the dictionary definitions of a Masochist is "One who has a taste for suffering". I think Physical Therapists fit that description perfectly ("other peoples" suffering that is). On the second day she tried to see how far I could bend my knee and moved it until it stopped.
"Does that hurt?"
"Not too bad", I said.
"Then let's see if we can bend it further" - ouch!

Those friends of mine that are Physical Therapists know I am poking fun at them - it has been proven that this therapy after the surgery is the most important factor in the recovery process.

I am now home and going through sessions three times a day on my own (with the therapist calling in every other day to check progress). These are not fun sessions, but an hour before, I take two Oxycodone "happy" pills and then, even the therapist looks good - I guess this is what they call "better living through chemistry".

The "Big Apple"

I love old Rock and Roll, I love Contemporary Jazz, I love the Blues, I love (some) Country music...but mostly I love Opera. Is that a paradox or what? As my hair started turning grey, opera started sounding enjoyable and the more I listened, the more I became a fan. Maybe it's because when you really listen to a great opera singer you realize that a voice like that is god given. To you sports fans out there, the best way I could describe it, is that Pavarotti was the "Tiger Woods" or "Michael Jordan" of opera.

Last week we watched a performance of La Boheme at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. It was a Christmas gift from our oldest daughter who in her younger years danced for the San Diego Ballet and Opera. So we spent last week in the "Big Apple' with the highlight of the trip being the night at the opera which included an elegant dinner at the Grand Tier restaurant in the Met Opera house itself. So us country folks were able to rub elbows with some of the New York elite. But they must have been envious of us. My wife planned on this evening for months and even had special earrings made to match a necklace that she inherited from her mother - she was the "elite" one in the Grand Tier that night. It was an evening that we will remember for a long time, and if you have not spent much time in the "big apple" don't miss it - just take a lot of money.

We also took in a few other sights - the Museum of Modern Art, the Paley Center for Radio and TV (our son is a "big wheel" there), Lombardi's (the first pizza restaurant in the USA), Grand Central Station, the United Nations, the Metropolitan Museum of Arts (don't miss it) . We also had dinner and drinks at a restaurant called Bill's Gay 90's, a "speakeasy" going back to the turn of the 20th century and still going strong. This was unique since my grandfather played piano there for a long time in the late 30's and early 40's. It was one of the highlights of a special trip to the most energetic city in the world.

Now we are back on the Central Coast at our 20 acre ranch - a slight change from the "high density" of NYC. And as I dug holes today, and set traps to catch the gophers that invaded my vineyard while I was gone, I thought "Wow, just a few days ago I was rubbing elbows with the elite at the Met Opera, and now I am up to my elbows in dirt chasing varmints that are trying to kill my vines".

Isn't life interesting?