Because it really is personal…


August 28, 2009, 12:25 pm
Filed under: *whinge*, Disease and infirmity, spouse

A couple of years ago I had my hip replaced. It took about 2 weeks of preparation, cooking,cleaning, getting everything ready almost like having a baby or something. Then there was the 10 week recovery with people in the house to help out and all. It was frustrating and gratifying all at the same time.

Now, Terry is looking at his second surgery on his arm. 6 weeks ago he broke it wrestling with CJ, and had to have plates installed to set it. Now, the primary ligament from someplace in his wrist has detached itself, and needs reattachment. Ligaments are difficult personalities. Unlike a bone, that you click back into place and screw a plate onto, 6 weeks later it’s fine, they are soft tissue, tender and persnickety. They are going to have to pin it into place and completely immobilize his arm for a solid 3 months. Ugh.

It’s funny tho, to me, from my perspective of having the hip replaced and all the hysteria surrounding it, this is different. I’m not stocking the freezer or arranging household help. All we’re really doing to prepare it is update his Netflix queu so he can keep occupied for the 5 days he’s required to stay home. He’ll have some help at work, for the 2 days he’s gone. He’s even implied that I’m going to drive him to work the day after his surgery so he can…I dunno…Do Something, be a presence so El Presidente and The Jackass won’t try and sabotage his workings while he’s gone. And they will. Terry had to leave early last night, and it was reported back to him that they were circling his equipment ($18 million worth of custom made by Terry stuff) like a pair of vultures waiting for something to die. It would be like them to cut a line or throw a wrench into a roller. Yeah, that petty. It’s going to be bad enough that Terry will be gone Wednesday for surgery, but him being out 2 days is well….Not Optimal, to say the least. even with Steve there to run interference.

We all have our own source of anxiety. When I was laid up, it was the smooth functioning of the household. Food to eat, laundry to fold, that sort of thing. With Terry its his livelihood, and the political fears of what his coworkers will do while he’s out. Part of me doesn’t understand why he can’t just sit in the chair and recuperate like a normal person. The other part of me knows who and what he’s up against at work, and wants to go over there and rip someone’s liver out, or maybe just a part of a lung, just enough to lay them up for a while.

and part of me wishes for the hourly job, with his name over the pocket, and the doublewide in Screven County.




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