"I've Had a Baby, Five Tattoos and a Knee Replacement"
This is what I uttered to the nurse as he removed the staples, worried I needed him to stop because they hurt. Compared to those things I listed above, removing several hundred staples from my leg was a piece of cake. What's funny was that the nurse said it's the men who get squeamish about the staples.
He also told me I could stop using the torture machine. Apparently my goal was to push the leg to 90 degrees. I'd done that days ago. No one ever told me I could stop with that. I'm now to concentrate on walking. I'm not allowed to get in a pool for another month. The concern is that all of the funky stuff in the water—chlorine, urine, god knows what else—might infect my incision. You don't have to tell me twice. I can certainly wait.
I'm worried that the knee will prevent me from popping up on my shorter boards. I think my worry is probably premature. The problem is I don't know what to expect. I don't know what's possible with a prosthetic knee. That's both a blessing and a curse. I can use this opportunity to change the paradigm connected to knee replacement patients. I might also be inclined to think the knee is incapable of doing some of the things I'd push it to do. I know I've gotten ahead of myself with these thoughts. Obviously, I have way too much time on my hands.
I did walk the dog around the block today. I think the snail we saw near the front door made it to the lawn and back by the time I came back home with the dog. Now my hips hurt because my gait is all wrong. (You try walking with a swollen, compromised knee and see what hurts.)
I look forward to the future.