Is it September already?
Where have I been?
Well, let’s just say 2024 has been a year of distractions. More distractions, apparently, than I’m capable of handling. Today, lemme tell you about The Big Distraction That Has Affected Everything.
For most of this year I’ve been recovering from ankle replacement surgery. Or, rather, I’ve been recovering from ankle replacement surgery and the surgery that came before the ankle replacement surgery. The first surgery was necessary because my ankle was so messed up, doctors had to fix the ankle before they could throw it away and put in a new one in. I didn’t even know this kind of pre-surgery surgery was a thing. But it is! And it sucks!
I have a reputation for being accident prone, but I didn’t need the new ankle because of a self-inflicted injury. My ankle was always messed up. I’ve had a few surgeries before this one (the first was way back 1985) so this is not my first rodeo.
That said, the 2024 procedures have been especially crummy.
Surgery number one required a recovery time of 11 weeks, during which I was on crutches. I don’t find moving around on crutches to be difficult, but if you are an introvert, like me, I don’t recommend ever leaving the house. Those aluminum sticks serve as a Stranger Conversational Beacon. And it’s awful.
“Hey, what happened to you?” strangers would ask.
I must have answered that question four jillion times.
And then there were the folks who just yelled jokes at me.
“That’ll teach ya ta upset your wife!”
“Whatever you did, don’t do it no more!”
“Ain’t tapdancin’ any time soon, eh?”
Ha-HAAA! Hilaaaaarious!
These jokes were exclusively uttered by old men. I don’t know why old men need to pipe up with these one-liners so often, but, by God, they are always ready for action.
Many years ago, when Ellen and I were on our honeymoon, she slammed her head against the low ceiling of a tour van. It was quite a wallop. It was obviously painful. There were tears in Ellen’s eyes. But none of those context clues stopped the old guy in front of us from cheerfully announcing, “Ooh, that’s gotta hurt!”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll murder you,” I replied.
So, once upon a time, I threatened an old man’s life. I also write for children. I am a man of many layers.
But I digress.
The second operation was The Big One. Judging by the resulting scars, I’m guessing that the surgeon opened me up with a fireman’s axe. The aftermath was so gross, my son, Alex, insisted—then demanded—that I not show the post-op photos on my blog.
My boy has good instincts about such matters, so please enjoy this photo of my foot pixilated within an inch of its life.
Long story short, I’ve been hobbling around since March, first on crutches, then on one crutch, and, now, a cane. Thank goodness Ellen and Alex have been so willing and eager to help me throughout my long, painful, and persistent gimpy period.
I’m in PT and am getting better, but it’s been a long road that has sapped me of my motivation to do much of anything, including promote my upcoming picture book. But that’s a post for another day. 🙂
Hey, Look! A Writer Fellow! 