|Rehab beard, endangered species|
There is weakness and a bit of pain in the joint area, and there can be instances of jarring, sharp pain such as when my little female lab jabs me behind the left knee in order to let me know she is alive and that I remain in her good graces. I am walking largely without a cane, but to put it away at this point is probably premature. I don't need it, but if I had to walk more than forty feet at a stretch, I'd be happy to have it.
The Kitten remains in the running for Sainthood for her loving care and tolerance, which these days consists mainly of getting the silly compression socks on my feet (hate them) and driving me around to PT sessions. I believe that I would be driving myself right now had mother nature not intervened and dumped two inches of snow here the other day, as I am in no mood to remove it from my car before driving. The news speaks of five plus inches of new snow tonight, so I fear my mobility--at least as far as autos are concerned, remains limited.
When I speak of the Kitten's tolerance, it revolves mainly around my rehab beard, shown above. She hates facial hair with the heat of ten thousand suns, and that it grows on my face gains it no additional acceptance. I'm thinking of keeping it through Thursday evening, so I can go "full liberal professor" on my class.
Although the weather may intervene, the Kitten and I have agree to disassemble the chambre de malade on Wednesday, at which point I'll return full time to the ManCave. This recovery period has proved the sturdiness and value of my comfy chair, which will be used more often as a napping platform in the ManCave when the fancy takes me. The poor Kitten has had to sleep elsewhere due to the logistics involved in my sleeping arrangement (I have the little compressor that makes a bit of noise), but that goes away tomorrow at my "staple removal" doctor's appointment. It however, may be a victim of the great Eastern American snowstorm headed our way, so I may keep the staples a bit longer.
I tried to take a photo of my incision this morning, but because of its location (high on the front of the thigh), there simply is no way to get a good shot without taking in the unsightliness of my diminished, though still prodigious, pendulous belly. I weighed in this morning at 179.4 (first measurement below 180, thank you), which means I've lost 19.4 lbs so far. After looking at the selfie feature of the phone as it relayed up to me this snapshot of sloth and excess, I decided against sharing it with the faint of heart.
This was and is the week that I begin my return to the productive and useful, but the likelihood of great snowfall will almost assuredly keep me here on the farm for a few days. There is much to be done, and the world has suffered horribly from my absence, so I must lace up my wing tips, tie my bow tie and get back in the game.
March brings with it a trip to California for a few days, and a panel/speaking gig up at the Naval War College. I actually need to whip up 1000 words for the suits at Newport to let them know what I intend to say there....something I've put off but which could comprise a bite sized little project for the day, after I submit to the screws at Guantanamo Detachment, Easton later this morning.
That's all for now.