This past Thursday, I was given the go-ahead by my foot surgeon to put weight on my left foot. He ordered me to wear a walking boot. “If your foot is touching the ground, it MUST be in the walking boot,” he told me firmly. I will, of course, comply. And I have.

One piece of good news he gave me was that I could take a shower. Yes, my friends, I haven’t taken a shower since the morning of January 7, before my surgery. I was shocked at my pre-op appointment to learn of this restriction. He was non-negotiable about this rule, and I figured he was the one who has a Doctor of Podiatric Medicine (DPM) and I have a degree in journalism. According to him, there was too great a chance of getting moisture into the wound, which can then become infected. Thus, I became the queen of sponge baths. My family didn’t leave the room when I entered, so I think I kept my dirt at bay. The shower felt wonderful. It isn’t something I will do every day, however, the way I did prior to the surgery. Until the foot is completely healed, once or twice a week will be my limit. Putting weight on that foot sans the walking boot was so weirdly uncomfortable. I’m sure it will get easier.

The biggest change in my life in the past five weeks of semi-confinement was the number of Amazon packages that appeared at my door. Having little else to do but think of things I need, it became so very easy to pick up my iPad, hit the Amazon app, and order. Sometimes I would order two or three times a day.

One day I realized my right wrist hurt from arthritis. (Well, actually it hurt because I had to crochet nonstop the few weeks before my surgery to finish the blanket for Adelaide…..)

I had a wrist brace, but it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it was for my left hand and not my right. It was 9 o’clock in the morning on a Sunday. I went on my Amazon app and quickly found a wrist brace that would work on my right hand. I put it in my shopping cart, pressed purchase, and sat back and waited. Two hours later, our doorbell rang and my brace was at my doorstep.

Who doesn’t love Amazon?

Then I got my Visa bill, and it was exceptionally high. I perused the purchases and realized just how many times I had ordered from Amazon. I didn’t figure out the total, because ignorance is bliss. I’m not an idiot, however, and perhaps my decision to buy a blender wand (for example) was not a good one. I’ve lived many years without blending my soups, using a potato masher, and there is not a good reason why that couldn’t have continued.

“I’M DONE ORDERING FROM AMAZON,” I told Bill.

I think that lasted a day. I couldn’t live without a special nail clipper and a really cute pair of yoga pants. Because I’m going to do a lot of yoga some day.

I’m pretty sure I’m part of the reason Jeff Bezos could go into outer space. And it occurs to me that perhaps my right-handed carpal tunnel is due to Amazon buying instead of crocheting. Just sayin’.

With both of us using contraptions to help us walk, it’s bound to get crowded at some point. Here we have our walking aids parked as we enjoy our coffee….

Actually, I’m happy to say I got the go-ahead to walk without my scooter as long as I’m wearing my walking boot. It’s wonderful to be independently mobile once again.

Have a great weekend.

Blue Skies
Yesterday was a beautiful day in the Valley of the Sun. It was a bit cooler than it’s been, with a high in the low 60s. But we took advantage of the deep blue skies and the sunshine to enjoy dinner and a drink with friends on a patio overlooking a desert golf course. Given that much of our family were shoveling snow and figuring out what to do with their kids on school snow holidays, we considered ourselves to be very blessed.

New Old Neighbors
You may remember me talking about our neighbors to the west of us, a couple from Alberta, Canada. We enjoyed their company very much, and we were sad when they elected to sell their house after the outbreak of the coronavirus and the subsequent lockdown. With the loosening of the borders between Canada and the United States, our friends decided to get a break from the snow and spend a month here in Mesa. Our next door neighbor to the east happened to have an empty house thanks to romantic circumstances, and we put our Canadian friends in touch with our neighbor. This led to that, and they are now staying at her house for a month or so. The house layout is exactly the same, so they are finding themselves searching for plates and silverware in the cupboards where they kept there’s back in the day. Bill and I are very happy to have their company for the next few weeks.

These Boots
I have another appointment with my foot surgeon this afternoon, and I’m wishing like crazy that he will give me permission to start putting weight on my left foot. I know I will need to keep this walking boot for some time, but I sure would love to lose the scooter. I can’t wait until I can go places by myself. I can drive, but I’m unable to get the scooter in and out of the car without help. Even if I have to wait another week or two, I can see light at the end of the tunnel. Light is good.

Mesa Rehab
Jen’s knee replacement surgery was a success, and she is finally starting to feel better. Tuesday the anesthesia had worn off, and she was in quite a bit of pain. She was better yesterday, and is confident that she will feel better every day. Between her and her walker and me and my scooter, we are quite a pair. We haven’t run into each other yet, but Winston doesn’t know which way to turn. Before you know it, we will both be independent walkers!

Ciao.

In my lifetime, I have had a goodly number of jobs. Since the time I turned 14, I’ve worked as a bakery clerk, a daycare worker, a food server, a motel clerk, a clerk at the Nebraska electric company, a grocery stocker and cashier, a women’s clothing salesperson, a convenience store cashier, a cashier at a Boulder donut shop, a stocker at a office supply store, a newspaper reporter, and a communications specialist. I’m probably forgetting something.

My least favorite of those jobs by far was the convenience store, simply because I worked the 6 to midnight shift at a Circle K that was out in the middle of nowhere. I’m greatly relieved that I didn’t get raped or murdered. That was the only job for which I ever had to take a lie detector test. I passed.

My favorite job was in the communications field, because it involved a lot of different skills, including writing. I could have made my life much easier if I just had written the Great American Novel at age 18. And then only if they had made it into a television series that was still playing in reruns.

But I have to tell you that among my favorite jobs was in the office supply store in Boulder. Part of it was because I had the nicest boss you could ever imagine. He was happy that I was going to college and as such, he was more than willing to adjust my hours to my school schedule. He also was a miniature train collector, and I loved looking at the train setup he had in his basement of the store. It was amazing. Choo choo.

As much as that, however, I loved office supplies. I still do, in fact. It’s weird, I will admit. But even if I’m just at the grocery store and I happen to pass by the office/school supply section, I can’t stop myself from slowing down to look at the various pens, pencils, tablets, tapes, scissors, and other interesting office supplies.

I would guess that office supplies aren’t as popular as they were during my working years. Who uses pens these days? Generation X, Y, and Z-ers simply pull out their phones and punch in their notes with their thumbs. I love a nice pen with blue ink. The creation of the gel pen made me almost as happy as the invention of the microwave. When I worked hard for my money, I HAD to have a gel pen with pink ink to edit mine and others’ work. Red wouldn’t do, I’m afraid.

It’s true, however, that even I don’t use a pen as much as I used to. I can count the number of checks that I have written over the past five years on my two hands. Mostly to people who are self-employed, I guess. It’s gotten to the point that when I try to sign my name on my check, I have to stop about halfway through to make sure I’m spelling it correctly.

Alas, eventually office supply stores will go the way of the T-Rex. As it is, I order my new favorite pens (Tul) on Amazon. I’m part of the problem and have nothing to do with the solution.

I’ve never been a prima donna when it comes to the way I look. Even as a teenager, I don’t recall needing to buy everything I saw in Seventeen Magazine. Perhaps the fact that I went to a Catholic high school that required wearing a uniform kept my sense of fashion to a minimum.

When I first realized I had bunions, I looked up to see what causes them. I laughed out loud when I read that most bunions are caused by wearing inappropriate shoes with very high heels and very pointed toes. The reason I laughed is because I’ll bet I haven’t worn high heeled shoes more than a dozen times in my entire life. I wore them at my two weddings, I wore them at our children’s weddings. But even as a professional in the work world, I always preferred comfortable, flat shoes.

I remember that I worked with an older woman many moons ago. (And I’m laughing even as I write those words because she probably was 40 years old to my 23.) She always wore very high heeled shoes. At lunchtime, she would go for a walk in those very same shoes. I asked her one time how on earth she could go for a walk wearing such seemingly uncomfortable shoes. She declared that she had been wearing high heeled shoes since she was a teenager, and her feet were such that at that point, she was more comfortable in those shoes than in a pair of flats.

I wonder if she ended up with bunions.

Years later, I worked with a woman who was inordinately tall and absolutely beautiful. She always wore high heels. She would swoop into a room smelling like expensive fragrance and dressed to the nines, proudly towering over most people in the room. As part of the communications team with whom I worked, I often had to accompany her to meetings. I felt like her dopey kid sister.

I wonder if she ended up with bunions.

Second runner up as a cause for bunions is the feet of your ancestors. Many times, bunions are hereditary, and mine were. My mother had terrible feet that included bunions and corns. Along with her blue eyes and the shape of her mouth, she also passed along bum feet to her second-born. Aren’t I lucky?

With one bunion fixed and one to go (maybe, some day, if I’m willing to go through this again), I assure you there will be no high heels on my feet. In fact, I’m told by those who have gone through similar surgery that it will probably be three- to-six months or so before I can wear anything but a sandal due to swelling. I will admit that the two times I have been able to glance at my repaired foot since the surgery, it not only looks like Frankenstein’s monster, but it also looks like a pregnant whale.

Good thing I’m not a prima donna when it comes to fashion.

I have watched so much football in the past couple of weeks that my eyes are shaped like footballs. I, of course, haven’t had a real dog in the fight, which in many ways makes it that much more fun. The games have been amazing from a pure football standpoint.

I know some of my readers are Kansas City fans, and so I apologize for this thought, but it is fun to see new helmets at the Super Bowl. So I have to admit to rooting for Cincinnati. People, please. The last time the Bengals were at the Super Bowl, my son — now a 41 year old father of three — was 9 years old. It’s time. I truly didn’t care who the winner was for the Rams/49ers game. I was happy, however, that former Denver Bronco defensive player Von Miller got in on the last play of the game.

Of course, the playoffs simply remind me that football season is nearly over. As a consolation prize, the Winter Olympics are looming. Still, China’s leader, the powerful Xi Jinping, doesn’t do nearly as much for me as Tony Romo, who, by the way, I thought was going to have a heart attack at the end of the Chiefs/Bengals game. He gets more excited about football than me, and that’s saying something.

As you read this blog, my sister Jen is either undergoing knee surgery or recovering from surgery she underwent earlier in the day. It was fun to be able to watch the game with her yesterday. She doesn’t cuss as much as me, but she gets just as excited. Bill is much calmer, helpfully pointing out penalties the refs missed or shouldn’t have called. What would we do without him?

I’m always sad at the end of football season. It really isn’t even that I sit and religiously watch every game. In fact, the team about whom I am most invested — the Denver Broncos — are rarely on television here in AZ. But I always have the television on all day long on Sundays, and I find it very soothing. In the past, I have especially enjoyed Sunday Night Football. I will tell you, however, that if Al Michaels is gone from NBC (which I guess he will be) it won’t be the same. Though Cris Collinsworth has always been a favorite of mine (his knowledge of football is amazing), he has lost his allure as of late.

We get a bit of a break between now and the Super Bowl. I won’t be buying any team shirts or dying my hair, but I think I will be rooting for the Bengals. The orange reminds me of the Broncos.

Though I still can’t put weight on my left foot, my doctor removed my cast and put me in a walking boot. I had to solemnly promise him I would treat it as a cast, and I will. But the boot is so much more comfortable than the cast that I can’t stop smiling.

Now we just prepare for Jen’s knee surgery on Monday, when we will become a full-fledged senior rehab facility.

Have a great weekend.

Olden Days
Yesterday I got a text from our granddaughter Kaiya. Her class is doing a project on immigration, and they are supposed to learn what they can about their ancestors and where they originated from. I was happy to answer the questions. I confess to knowing very little about my mom’s side of the family, but I was able to give quite a bit of information about my dad’s parents, who came to the United States from Switzerland in 1924. Some I know from hearing stories told by my grandmother; some I know from an article that was written about Columbus, Nebraska, business owners way back in the mid-20th century. It was fun to be able to share some stories with Kaiya.

Take Two Aspirin
This afternoon I have an appointment with my foot surgeon. This time Bill is going with me to take a gander at my feet. I’m not sure if they will remove the plaster cast and put on a new one or simply do x-rays to see how my feet are healing. It is my sincere hope that he tells me I am only a week or so shy of losing the cast forever and going into a walking boot. It will be three weeks since my surgery, and he told me four to six weeks. Fingers crossed.

Eyow
Yesterday afternoon, I was transferring myself from the commode back onto my scooter. For the first time in three weeks, I missed the scooter, and my toes came down hard on the floor. I don’t think I did any damage, because my foot doesn’t hurt. Still, see above: I want to move to a walking boot.

Back to Reality
I received a text from Jen’s son-in-law Mark last night that documented a dance party taking place in the hotel room in Los Angeles where they have lived for the past three days. It appeared to be a belated birthday party for Miss Lilly. Austin was no where to be seen. I reckon it’s time to come home.

Ciao.

Bill asked me the other day — probably after I’d asked him if he would pleeeease go get me another cup of coffee — if I regretted my decision to have surgery.

“If you knew what this was going to be like, would you still elect to have your bunion removed?” he asked.

It’s a good question. While I anticipated the inconveniences that would come with not being able to put any weight on my left foot for a month or more, it really has been quite an experience figuring out what I can and cannot do. I have discovered that I am able to accomplish a lot more things standing on one foot than I thought I would. Almost always, when things seem insurmountable, I can figure out a way to manage the task. I just have to think smart and not take unnecessary chances. For example, I was able to grab my cast iron Dutch oven successfully by moving the lid separately from the pot. There was probably still a 70/30 chance I could drop the pot onto my good foot, but I didn’t.

Prior to the surgery, I warned Bill that he was going to have to undertake some of my chores. Making the bed, for example. In a pinch, I could probably make the bed. Still, the idea of hopping on one foot or dragging my scooter along with me while I straighten sheets feels impractical. It’s not always a matter of whether I can do it, but just how much easier it would be if he did it.

I have learned why people with walking disabilities demand handicapped parking spaces, and why they get angry if people abuse the privilege. I wouldn’t care if the handicapped space was on the other side of the building. What is important to me is that there is room for my BFF to be placed by the car door so that I can hop on my right foot and swing my left foot onto the scooter. Oh, and going up a ramp is helpful also.

In an earlier blog post, I mentioned that a friend of mine broke her kneecap and was in a thigh-to-ankle cast for months. There’s no question that her woe was much greater than mine. One of the things she told me, however, rang true. Her husband had been ill, and she had been caring for him. Suddenly the shoe was on the other foot (ha ha ha). He became her care partner, and they had to get used to those new dynamics.

The same is true for Bill and me, of course. I take care of a lot of things for him, and now it’s his turn to return the favor. He does so willingly, I’m happy to say. Of course, he usually needs a nudge because he’s not used to the new chores.

“Hon,” I’ll say to him each night. “Would you please fill up the coffee pot with water for tomorrow morning?” He will cheerfully fill up the pot. But he won’t remember the next day. Still, I care for him and he cares for me.

Winston, however, still looks at the knee scooter as a death machine, and I don’t believe that will change any time soon.