A week in rewind

I woke up in my own bed for the first time yesterday morning since Monday. I realized with a slight start, sleeping beside me, was my wife-she wasn't actually sleeping she was watching me as I had been sleeping. I didn't ask her how long she's been doing that because I'm afraid of what the answer would sound like: 'all of our married lives.'

Things happen to me. I don't ask for it, unless you consider being born 'asking for it'. And then we'd have to define the gerund and parse the object and we'd be back in the tall grass, where I spend so much of my time.

Having coffee yesterday morning I explained to my wife that this time I had no memory of ever leaving prep for surgery. One minute I was stripping and donning a special operating room garment with holes where they blow warm air in because the hospital is cold to minimize the spread of germs (as I understand it). I've tried all week but cannot find a tactile memory of that sensation, and yet it must have happened. In the past I've been able to recall the transfer from one gurney to another in the operating room, sometimes indistinctly remembering the music and seeing everything at least for awhile through a gelatinous, strawberry haze.

None of that Monday. I awoke, thinking I had gargled sand, in a corner of a room on the fourth floor of Backus Hospital in Norwich, though I only knew any of that from previous experiences as I wouldn't get beyond the room door until some point on Tuesday. I remember not eating very much of anything for at least two days, but then I have trouble eating fremde food and avoid doing so whenever I can.

There's a lot more about what went on this week I wish I remembered. I recall something in my sleep so frightening me on Wednesday evening (probably really Thursday morning) that I shouted aloud and woke up and scared the bejabbers out of my roommate who had his hip replaced on Monday morning. He thought that was the hardest thing in his week until he drew me as a roomie. Sorry, Steve, and hope your rehab goes better than your initial post-op did.

The Visiting Nurse made her first visit yesterday afternoon and I learned that years of 'making do' with a 'bum knee' came with a high cost. I have a terrible set of habits right now on how I walk that I will need to completely break and relearn. At six weeks shy of 57 years of age, something about an old dog and new tricks keeps playing through my head. I just checked my driver's license and it appears ready to expire before I do which is how I always like that to be.

I'll see the Visiting Nurse three times a week and work on the exercises she's laid out for me by myself everyday of the week, on multiple occasions, and perhaps by the time I return to see my surgeon in the middle of April I'll be ready to be an outpatient for rehab. At some point after that, it'll be permission to return to work and reinsertion into the hive.

I'm seeing the whole screen much better right now, mainly I suspect because of the pain killers I took earlier, but I'm still only catching a few frames and the audio sync isn't always there. I'm hopeful the frame buffer will start to salvage the missing bits, but I'm also a little afraid of what I'll see when I look at it. I know the one thing I can't do is look away-those days are over.
-bill kenny

Walking on four, then two and then three legs

I was released from Backus Hospital yesterday afternoon to my wife and daughter (who took an excused absence from a class at Eastern to come and get me. My son had taken the early shift on Monday to get me to the surgery by six in the morning so my perfect record of achievement as a moocher remains unblemished).

I am, says my physician and the hospital's physical therapist, Dmitri, doing very well. I was, said Dmitri, only the second person in his experience at Backus to get around without assistance of a walker just two days into recovery (I carry a variety of baits, as I'm always fishing for compliments and Dmitri's just flopping on the dock right now, hook in his mouth). I didn't ask about the other person just in case it's one of those 'he walked down an open elevator shaft' or 'he was carried off by flying monkeys' and the happy ending is not so much very happy.

I am overwhelmed at the skills and talents health professionals, of all walks and jobs, possess, and am saddened at how much of their effort is spent battling with insurance companies (in theory, one or the other is on my side) in terms of payment. I don't know how much a heart transplant is worth or what a liver surgery costs a family when the patient dies. I'm not a car, but I can offer the prospective customer a practically all new undercarriage. Now how much would you pay?

It looks like interesting things almost happened in Norwich politics this week, but just getting up is such an effort right, I'm punchy with exhaustion. You won't catch me on Dancing with the Stars, but I'm hoping to be better and stronger tomorrow than I am today. Not really much of a hope, come to think of it. And exactly who's flying monkey is that one over there anyway?
-bill kenny

...Like Breathing Out and Breathing In

I've never been a hockey fan-actually, never much for ice skates. We have a beautiful Ice Rink in Norwich that we went to when our children were younger (and so were we) but I don't think I've been in it for the last eight to ten years. It's me, not them.

Back to the hockey. The first time I saw her she was wearing a Buffalo Sabres hockey jersey-a souvenir, so to speak (as I was to learn) from an earlier relationship. (I'm fine with the memory because I got the girl in the jersey.) To be honest, if the Sabres, or any hockey team had looked as good in their jerseys as she did in this one, I'd have become a huge fan of the struggles to capture Lord Stanley's cup years earlier.

She was tall-probably taller than I, thin, with long straight hair. I had seen her in a club Chris and I went to in Frankfurt am Main's Sachsenhausen district and this was later and we were at another place, "Old Smuggler's", beyond the Hauptwache near the Eschenheimer Tor district.

She was, and is, so beautiful, I forgot to breathe and the moment I saw her I knew I would marry her. I didn't know her name, know how to meet her, or know anything about her but I knew I would marry her.

I'm not a person with a strong religious faith (me, not Him) but by the time we got engaged thirty-two years ago last Wednesday (the 4th of March; it's engraved in my wedding ring) I came to believe that it wasn't, and couldn't be coincidence or happenstance that had crossed our paths.

I cannot conceive of how wretched my life would be without her--how, in a hundred different ways every day, everything I do and everything I am is because of her. She almost makes the day begin. Happy Birthday, Angel Eyes.

Absence of Proof is Not Proof of Absence

Another day of 'in advance' writing as, with some luck, I will hopefully be getting out of the hospital today which marks two days in a row I'm typing that even though in all likelihood it'll really be tomorrow. My experience, based on previous hospital stays, is they never give you enough sheets to be able to tie them together and slip out a window, at least not form the fourth floor which is where I am.

Of course, if I did accomplish such a feat that might well change the whole rehab schedule--after all, how much work does a guy with a brand-new knee really need if he shimmied down four floors of sheets tied together? They won't know whether to send me someone from the Visiting Nurse Association or The A-Team (you can tell 'em apart by the music; that's how I do).

I am hoping that today is the day I head out, for any number of reasons, to include that, after awhile, I wear out my welcome and the nurses and all the health care professionals have hard enough jobs without my unending 'are we there yet?' Quiz Kid antics. No matter how much of a work-out I get with the knee-bending machine it will not tire me out which is bad news for everyone who has contact with me.

I have already promised everyone taking care of me to behave myself, because I always do and I don't intend to be a nuisance, but that's what happens. In the non-hospital mode, I have things like the Internet and email to distract me and none of that will be going on, so everyone and everything will get my undivided attention. Good luck with that, and sorry for the head noise.

Anyway, assuming this has all worked out just swell and there have certainly been enough very talented people involved in it to go like clockwork (the only amateur is I), I could be sleeping in my own bed tonight, awakening tomorrow to wish my bride of thirty-one years 'alles Gute zum geburtstag' and have her ask, more in exasperation than curiosity, 'bist Du immer noch hier?' Like I'm gonna be able to run away.
-bill kenny

Orange Jell-O Makes the Food Pyramid

If I'm doing as well as I hope I am, and trying to see into the future is as difficult for me as understanding the here and now for the most part, with a small amount of luck it's very possible I'll be getting out of the hospital tomorrow but Thursday is a more likely bet says the paperwork from my insuror.

One of things I realized when I was given my surgery date was I might possibly be unable to help my wife celebrate her birthday, which is this Thursday. By the time I realized the implications of the surgery date, the process of clearances and permissions had already started and trying to get all of that rescheduled would have taken an act of Congress (and they're a little busy right now helping rescue stupid and greedy bankers from their own cupidity).

Of course, as was the case yesterday and will be for the rest of the week, I'm writing these in advance, since I don't think either of us would enjoy very much what passes for musings in The Shape I'm In or the shape I expect I'm in. I'm thinking if you stop back on Saturday and there's a blank spot or Friday's observations staring back at you, it's a safe bet that either I now have something more serious than a clunky left knee, or the knee and all the body parts have been recalled by the manufacturer. That, in a way, would be very fitting, though I hope that cup can be passed, if you follow my drift.

Today, with luck (though I'm never sure which way) I'll get to eat real food if you define 'real food' as orange Jell-O, except for reasons I don't understand (costs, perhaps?) the stuff with the foil top in the plastic see-through cup is not Jell-O but a gelatin product from someone else. I love Jell-O--no joke, I really do and my daughter, when she's home from college, and I make these amazing kinds (all sugar-free because I am blessed already with a sweet enough personality) that combine kiwi and/or strawberry and/or flavors and colors not ordinarily found in nature. I hate the waiting-for-it-to-set-part, though the good news, I guess, about the hospital gelatin is that it's already set.

As a matter of fact it looks like it's been set for years and that you could use it as building material if you had to. You know how scientists tell us cockroaches could survive a worldwide nuclear attack? I think they'd be eating orange hospital gelatin. The color is nearly identical to international emergency orange, which tells me somebody back in the factory has some decency and compassion. If only they had some taste buds. No amount of alcohol would make this stuff an acceptable shot, and the good news is that in the hospital that's exactly the quantity of alcohol you'll get. As for wrestling? That's what the nurses usually have to do to get us to eat it. Why do you think the windows are locked? The doctors hate scraping this stuff off their windshields and from four floors up, it gains velocity in a hurry and the splatter pattern is surreal.
-bill kenny

Cheating

This isn't quite what it seems today. Aside from the fact that normally on Mondays, I preview the week's municipal meetings in Norwich, CT, and this in no way is that preview, I don't pretend to care about the meetings this week as I won't be able to attend (very many of) them unless they're relocated to the William W. Backus Hospital (I don't know what the "W" stands for-in a way it would be fitting if it, too, was for 'William' as if the parents weren't sure we'd heard the child's first name the first time). I've got other fish to fry-and leave you to catch them.

At some point today (very probably already by the time you read this) I'm in surgery for a total knee cap replacement of my left knee. I was diagnosed a number of years ago with degenerative arthritis and underwent uni-compartmental surgery on my right knee (the inside half, whatever that's called) and the level of pain went way down and has stayed down. And because of whatever the kneecap was made of, it did wonders for my cellphone reception but the trade off is that it will set off alarms in airport security devices.

For just such situations my doctor's office gave me a little card to keep in my wallet, I assume, so when I set off one of the alarms and the guard with the broad shoulders and the biggest handgun ever seen on earth lumbers towards me with wariness in his eye and hand on his holster, I will actually be physically able to reach into my back pocket, pull out my wallet and produce my 'Hey! It's all good!' card. Yeah.

I'm thinking right after Elvis comes back into the building after polishing off a few of those peanut butter and banana sandwiches, he can explain all of the noise to security (Bugs Bunny style, of course). ThankUverymuch. Oh yeah, I already have a new card for the other knee; like getting one card was such a day at the beach, please, Sir, I want some more (if I have half that guy's agility I'll be happy. I already have the cane). I suspect I won't even need a cell phone at all because of the improvement of the signal.

In much the way as Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day in South Boston, Monday is ortho surgery for my physician and the doctors in his group. As I type this, I don't know if I have the first surgery at seven AM or if I'm on later (after 'the practice guy', as I call whomever is before me). I've had the partial replacement on the other knee, a pair of arthroscopic procedures (as an outpatient) and a couple of other operations and I prefer to NOT have a time to reconsider, if you know what I mean. Otherwise I'm looking for exits that go directly from elevators, emergency doors that open into parking lots and I can actually see myself, hospital gown open in the back flapping in the breeze, as I hop, skip and attempt to run away because I'm a c-o-w-a-r-d.

This is elective surgery and isn't that big a deal even though, because of all my other health issues, I had to get releases from about a half dozen doctors in order to be allowed to go on the class trip, so to speak. I'll be knocked out cold within seconds of getting to the Operating Room since whatever they give you in prep never calms me down at all (actually I'm wired and fired by the time they come to wheel me down the hall). I'll come to in a couple of hours and my wife will be sitting in a straight-backed chair, designed to be uncomfortable so people don't hang around all day. When I open my eyes, she'll give me that tight, little 'I wasn't scared at all for you' smile that she has had to have for most of the 31 plus years she has been married to me, and she is one of the three reasons I bother to come to at all anymore.

I'll be thirsty when I come around and I'll only be able to take little sips through the straw in the cup that she'll give me, which is okay, too, since I'll be on a catheter which will remain in place, as they call it, until an hour before they release me later in the week. There's little more humbling than a catheter for a guy and I work very hard to not think about it for a woman. Move along! Nothing to see here!

The doctor may have already been in to speak to my wife or he may wait until he's done with all the surgeries for the morning and then stop back to talk about how well or sideways it all went, like I'll remember anything he says ten minutes after he's left. I'll put the device on my left knee this time that flexes the kneecap. Take a look at it-doesn't it just SCREAM "Put me on!" Look harder. You need to start early with it in your rehab program and I started less than a half an hour after coming out of surgery for the right knee which is why I was on Dancing with the Stars last season. Now it can be told.

Didja see me with Heather Mills, doing the Lindy Hop and The Black Bottom? You know she and I went to the cast picnic together, right? We didn't do too well in the egg and the spoon race but far better than she and Sir Paul did in The Sack Race. I'll bet you can guess in which event she and her partner excelled. C'mon, you know you know the answer. ;-)
-bill kenny

Our Hour

If you forgot to set your clock forward last night before turning in, this has been a strange morning, I suspect. I hate it when I end up late for things-it makes me mental and I start screwing up stuff because I'm hurrying which makes me later and so it goes. I think we'll see the 'added daylight' this afternoon as eventually the days will get longer in the morning as well (not a scientific explanation but I didn't always catch Mr. Wizard as a kid).

I'm looking at Norwich meetings a day early this week in honor of Daylight Savings Time (not). But, admit it, for half a moment I had you nodding your head.

We all need to do more than just nod our heads Monday evening at six when the City Council has another informational workshop on the recommendations of the Ethics Review Committee turned into this City Council eight days short of a year ago. I was hoping to find a copy of the report on line to share so you could read what was proposed (I was on the committee as an alternate--an alternate to what was never explained, thankfully- and have a keen interest, as did so many on the committee, in open and honest government) but no such luck. You don't have to be a former member of the Ethics Review Committee to bear witness tonight in Room 335 though I think many of the members would appreciate your company. And it would be very nice if ALL the members of the City Council could attend, even and especially, the ones whose feelings on this issue are already known. (It's not enough to say 'it's important'; turns out we want you to prove it as well.)

Tuesday afternoon at 5:30 is a special meeting of the Board of Review-Dangerous Buildings, and based on a peek at the agenda, they've got the right building. Tuesday evening at 6 (I assume, their website is very close to useless on any and all aspects of their meetings, minutes or agenda) the Board of Education meets in Kelly Middle School to examine and (possibly) alter and/or endorse the Superintendent's proposed budget. School systems in Bridgeport and New Haven, so far, have been staggering under the impact of the economic downturn as all of us learn to do less with less (which sounds logical but has never really been tried in this country at least in our lifetimes, I suspect). I would imagine there could be some long faces and hard feelings at tonight's meeting when(or if) a budget is decided.

And, friendly reminder: the Board's budget is rolled into the City's budget which the City Manager is still working on before he sits with the City Council to create a final operating budget. As much as it's okay to hope for a surprise happy ending, I think this is the year where you reconcile yourself to lowering your voice and diminishing your expectations. My Mom was a little girl during the Great Depression, not that she's ever talked about it a whole lot and I can only guess how pleasant her memories are of 'back in the day' as she, along with all of us, faces a bare cupboard. The public trust is NOT a bottomless trough.

Actually, Tuesday is a busy day as the Zoning Board of Appeals meets at 23 Union Street (next door to City Hall) at 7 PM. It's "Counsel", by the way, NOT "Council." Reminder that the day is a little less cluttered as the 5 PM meeting of the Public Works and Capital Improvements Committee has been cancelled, and, no, you can't read the on-line minutes of previous meetings held or review and preview agenda, because NONE of that exists. Move along, nothing to see here.

Wednesday morning at a quarter of nine (taking advantage of all that extra daylight, I'm sure) is a meeting of the Rehabilitation Review Committee at 23 Union Street, though what's on their plate isn't posted anywhere, but judging from their February meeting minutes, they get into some important quality of life issues that I'd like to see explored in a larger venue (and, yes, just how many unannounced and unpublicized 'sober houses' in a neighborhood are too many?).

Wednesday at six, in Room 210 of City Hall, the Baseball Stadium Authority meets and the days draw close for the Defenders' home opener, though how many more games after this season will be played in Dodd Stadium is a matter of press speculation. (You cannot miss what you do not have and can only enjoy what you've already got. Sometimes we lose sight of that.) The Public Safety Committee meets at seven at the East Great Plains Fire Department (upstairs, I'll bet, above the fire engines in the big room) and is a good opportunity to watch all manner of public safety volunteers and paid professionals working together.

On Thursday, perhaps, the Mohegan Park Improvement and Development Advisory Committee may be meeting (in, ??, Room 210 of City Hall at 5:15; clarity isn't too large a concern here it seems to me), or not. It's a bit hard to tell from the information on the website about them and their activities or agenda. And I mentioned this last week, and promised/threatened to do it again-Thursday evening at 6:30 in the meeting room of the Otis Library, Alderman William Nash will host a 'tell me how I'm doing' meeting (that's what I'm calling it) for anyone who's interested. Different setting to talk to a member of City Council as opposed to AT a member of City Council during a Council meeting and some people are a lot more comfortable in a lower key environment. If you have something to share, you'll be there.

Which is more than I can say for me. I'll be low profile and immobile for a couple of days as I vacation in beautiful William Backus Hospital-actually, having me around is NO vacation at all (ask my wife) -for knee replacement surgery. I'm hoping to be released in time for Sigrid's birthday on Thursday. I promised to take her dancing. And she promised to NOT laugh. We're such terrible kidders, y'know that, angel eyes, right?
-bill kenny