The Waiting

I know. I KNOW. I am obsessing over this. But really, I swear I’m not. This is the process I’ve honed over many prior surgeries, and it earns its keep every single time. So let’s take a spin around the house and talk about what’s what.

Basement / “The Lair”

Because moving around is genuinely painful in the early days, it’s a good idea to have one place where you can just exist for the first few. My cave has:

• Comfy seating, natch.
• Bolsters for propping the parts, especially the leg/foot/ankle. I’m an expert here. Also make damn sure to have more cushions than seem necessary. Something to prop the lower back, the head, the shoulders and arms. Because no matter how comfy the couch is, lying for hours on the same body part starts to HURT, and every couch eventually becomes hard. It’s a proven scientific fact. (These are the bolsters I swear by.)
• A blanket, because this is the bed and the rec room and the dining room. Basically the entire house, at least until the worst of the rebound pain subsides and I feel like emerging from the dungeon to face the world again.
• A side table for ALL THE DRUGS. And the snacks. And the remotes.
• Extra-long charging cables you don’t have to bend down or reach around to fish out.
• Digital devices (phone, tablet, laptop) stowed within arm’s reach.
• A television, because of course.
• A mini-fridge stocked with drinks.
• BONUS: an ice maker and ice chiller machine. (This one.) Cold therapy on tap, no hobbling to the freezer.

The aid station

And in the basement bathroom, I’ve got wipes (face wipes and the big body wipes), toothbrush and toothpaste, contact case and glasses. Finally, PJs and some clean clothes, underwear included. Basically I treat it as a big, fully stocked aid station, mainly because that’s exactly what it is.

Okay. I think we’re about ready to do this. Now we just wait, and there’s a song that says the waiting is the hardest part. But I have a feeling that’s going to be the recovery.