Saturday, November 13, 2010

Day One

Ann's doing fine, though she is frankly going through a bloody fortune in perfectly good margarita ice which could otherwise be put to better use for all concerned.  Ice is ice and cold is cold and ice on the knees or margaritas in the belly seem an even match to me, though admittedly a doctorate in law does not give me the right to prescribe drugs and so much the worse for society.  Trust me, if lawyers could prescribe drugs, everyone would like them a lot more.

Ann slept most of the day, waking up every now and then to inquire about the time; I'd check my watch and tell her and then she'd look puzzled as hell and pass out again. I didn't notice until the third or fourth rotation of "What time is it?" that the clock on the wall she could see hadn't been set back from Day Light Savings and was an hour ahead.  And when I finally figured out what was going on, I was too far in to confess I hadn't looked at the clock on the wall when I told her what time it was, so I did the honorable thing and just kept lying to her.  It was kinda like our own little time travel experiment -- we're both in the same dimension but at different times. Still, I gotta bust a move tomorrow morning and change the clock before she sobers up.

Turns out they have a copy of the Geneva Convention at the hospital and decided to put her in solitary confinement and not walk her around today.  Frankly, much relief on my part given her level of anesthesia -- all I could see in my head was a clip of Buster Keaton hanging off the hands of that clock.  She did get nauseous once and told the nurse she didn't want to do a Linda Blair.  This was nothing short of brilliant given her condition.  The nurse -- apparently all of 12-years-old -- looked at both of us and said, "Who is that?"  How do you explain Linda Blair to someone who isn't as old as your belt?

 Tomorrow is physical therapy at 9AM followed by group therapy at 1PM.  OK, I get physical therapy: "Alright, now sit up, bend your knees, and stop screaming." But group therapy -- what could possibly be going there?

"Hello, my name is Ann, and I'm a knee abuser."
"Hi, Ann"
"I've been a knee abuser for years and am here to break the cycle of abuse."
"Welcome, Ann."
"I'm here because I know time takes time and patience takes patience and what I really want to do is spend the rest of my life gardening so I'll have a beautiful place to bury the body of the scum sucking rat-face liar that talked me into this surgery."
"Right on, girl friend -- if you're making a list, here's ours, too."
"Thank you -- fear is the opposite of faith and I have faith we can track these people down and...

OK, maybe it won't go exactly like that, but I'm just saying that no good can come to any group making decisions while wearing Percocet prescriptions folded into party hats.

I'll see if I can't sneak something out to you during the day - I know many of you have money on how long I am going to last as the primary care-giver and I don't want to skew the odds of the pool by holding back information.

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