Can a Sista Just Get a Few Decent Waves?
My days are seriously numbered at this point. I'll soon meet with someone from the orthopedist's office to have an in-depth discussion about knee replacement. My head is in the right space. I'm not fighting it at all anymore. This has to happen. Without it, I would become sedentary; the pain is that constant.
I do not notice the pain when I surf. No, I take that back. I do notice the pain while I'm waiting for a wave to come my way. I don't notice the pain once I spin around and start paddling. I don't notice it during the pop-up either. In that respect I'm lucky. I think the cold water helps to alleviate much of the pain anyway. I look forward to being pain-free. I've read that a prosthetic joint takes a little getting used to. I can deal with that. I'm just tired of being in pain. Now there is also pain in my hip. I'm certain that's the result of having changed my gait as a result of the pain in my knee.
I'm hoping the surgery isn't postponed. There have been a few setbacks along the way. When my doctor did the pre-op physical, she refused to send me for a chest x-ray even though the surgeon's office requested one. My doc said she couldn't justify a chest x-ray for someone who is relatively young and in excellent health. I have no problem with that, but the surgeon might. I also got a call today saying I had to go back down for another blood test because she inadvertently missed a box that needed to be checked when my blood was sent to the lab. So, one of the tests needed for the surgeon was not done. (Did I mention the blood donation center at the hospital butchered one of my arms when I went to bank my pint of blood?)
All I need now are a few decent waves. I don't ask for much. I'm not requesting epic conditions. I'd be satisfied with shoulder high waves with juice and shape. Oh, and an uncrowded lineup. Oh yeah, the sun needs to be out too.
Perhaps my expectations are too high. Perhaps I'm high. No, that wouldn't be the case. It might be the case once I start popping those post-surgery Vicodins. Nah, I'm scared to death of becoming addicted to painkillers, and anything else, and I'll probably tough out the pain once it comes down a few hundred notches.
Pray for some kind of halfway decent surf, please.