A Farewell to Knees

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: On my right knee, I have a small scar. It's shaped like the British Isles, sans Ireland and is white, with a dark "coastline" where Wales and Western Scotland would be. The darkness, I always thought, was a tiny bit of playground grit left behind; I split the knee open playing a jump rope game at recess in the fourth grade and apparently it wasn't cleaned out properly beneath the Band-Aid the teacher put over it.

I've had this scar for  fifty-four years, and today I'm going to lose it.

Not with plastic surgery - far from it! The old scar is going to be subsumed in a much longer vertical scar, running eight to ten inches over my knee. Which will not be the same joint I was born with! This knee will be mine inasmuch as I and my insurance company will be paying for it. As you're skimming over this with your morning coffee or tea, dear reader, I (sadly caffeine-less) will be undergoing Total Knee Replacement.

 

Saying you're getting TKR at my age is like saying you're engaged in your twenties or having a baby in your thirties - everyone you know is doing it. A friend in Maine. A friend in Colorado. A friend in Hawai'i. My agent's husband. Other Reds are looking down the road at this, the third most common surgery performed in the US. (I've already had the number 1 surgery, cataract replacement, and the number 9, gallbladder removal. I wonder how many I have to get punched on my card before I get a freebie?)

 

Maybe I should get a tattoo after?

I swear prepping for this day has taken more time than getting ready for my first kid to be born. Or is at least similar: setting up the bed in a special room? Check. Moving in a small dresser with special clothing (roomy shorts and loose dresses)? Check. Brand new equipment (cane, walker, foam support, ice packs) Check. I'll even be sticking to sponge baths for the first three weeks, just like we did with the babies. No diapers, thank God, but I do have a special potty seat! Maybe turnabout can be fair play and I'll get my daughters to give me M&Ms when I use it, like I used to do for them. 

 

I'm blessed - no sarcasm here - with two daughters and a sister who are sequentially staying with me for four weeks post-surgery. And a young friend who was bribed volunteered to drive me to my PT appointments during the fifth and sixth week. After that, I'm cleared to be back behind the wheel, so be forewarned, southern Maine.

Needless to say, you won't be seeing me in the comments today or tomorrow. Luckily, I'm also blessed with six sisters-in-craft who will be taking the wheel. Hopefully, I'll be able to hang out later in the week. Stay tuned, I'll be loaded up on pain meds, so it could be fun!

How about you, dear readers? Have you gotten the slice like all the cool geezers kids? Do you know someone who has?