All’s well that ends well

I struggled up as if from a deep abyss. Up towards the surface I kicked one last time and I’ll allow that last kick was a mistake, but I was suddenly conscious. Nurses were everywhere assembling clear tubes to valves into various beeping boxes with bags hanging from stands filled with clear liquid and Marce holding my hand. It’s coming back to me in dribs and drabs now. I remember sitting up in bed leaning forward and the nurse saying hold this pillow in front of you this might pinch a little. The next thing was the abyss.

I asked for this, as a matter of fact we paid for this, but I pushed that poor knee until I felt there was just no alternative. It was a lot like when I was a kid and my friends and I rode our bikes all over the place on a steamy hot Pennsylvania summer day and somebody said let’s ride over to a well known public water fountain for a drink. I remember saying, “not me, I’m not thirsty enough yet.”

It’s a sobering decision to have your leg sawn in half with a Bosch saber saw, or whatever they use. Three years ago we went through this same process but under very different circumstances. At the time I was responsible for our safety on a sailing yacht and I had only a rough idea what I was in for. I was encouraged when I could stand on my leg the next day. I had to learn patience, but it turns out not much happens until the swelling goes down.

This time I had much better movement from the get-go and a couple of times I startled my doctor and he would say, “slow down!” Point taken. After all, it’s just glued on.

Maybe it was better pain control and better physiotherapy in a brand new wing of Island Hospital with more exercise machines than one of those fitness gyms where they yell at you.

You get really close to your Physio; after all you’re in it together. Mine was Zoey, maybe 90 lbs. but she could make me cry squeezing my leg with just two fingers.

Over the top, all the way around. It’s a big thing as it means you’ve got over 120 degrees of movement.

I walked out of here without a cane mostly due to Dr. Aaron, or “Mr. Aaron” as they prefer in Malaysia, but he’d be the last to stand on ceremony.

He’s witty, loves bright colors especially the Rosso Corsa of his Ferrari that I pass every day in my Proton Grab ride.

They say all’s well that ends well and that works for me.


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2 Responses to All’s well that ends well

  1. Diana Bagnall

    So, you just thought you’d be better off with two working knees…why not? What a stoic you are, Jack, and how fortunate that Marce is one of the world’s most organised women. So glad that you’re in good hands (the physio, I guess, is doing most of the hands-on work atm) and are all but ready to rock ‘n’ roll. Hope you are enjoying the humidity, tastes and colour of SE Asia, and that you are thinking of hopping down to Sydney…why not?

    Diana xx

  2. Looking great, Jack. You’ll soon be ready for more hikes up and down hills. You did the wise thing in taking care of that knee when and where you did.

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