Two weeks ago, I was granted a pardon.
Yes, you heard me, a PARDON!
I was able to walk free and unencumbered from the Kaiser Torture Chamber.
I took a grande dame stroll past those devilish devices that had been the bane of my existence for weeks and weeks and weeks!
I never did manage a full revolution on that bike!
Several groups of silver foxes and golden doyennes came and went while I stayed and stayed and stayed.
But, with the pardon, the gatekeeper lost his power to make me stay or return for another day of shame and humiliation.
His parting words to me were, “Let me know if we can help you with anything.”
I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for a phone call.
I crutched my way out of the chamber into the light of freedom, this time without that bag of ice clutched tightly in hand.
I should have taken one as a keepsake.
But, before you begin to “Nae Nae” with me (which I can only do on one side, anyway) about my freedom, I must rush to explain my reprieve lest you think I no longer have to crutch my way through life.
I have been pardoned to a sentence at the Kaiser Hilton.
Yep, once more I will check-in to the Kaiser Hilton for what will be just an overnight stay.
And, yep, overnight.
Last time I was looking forward to a few luxurious days in bed being waited on hand and foot.
I did have the best nap of my life during surgery, but no days of pampered luxury followed for me and my new knee.
During my last visit, by the time I woke up the morning after surgery, the physical therapist was there to teach me how to use the walker as my “go home” clothes were thrown at me.
I swear they put roller skates on that walker to get me out of the door quickly.
Well, maybe it wasn’t that drastic but I did kind of feel like the Roadrunner trying to escape Wiley Coyote.
I am told that I will only have in-home physical therapy this time (one of Mr. Hyde’s cuzzins, no doubt), but it is unlikely that I will have to return to the torture chamber (hope springs eternal).
I look forward to the nap!
Donna. You will rise to the occasion. You are a strong sista. At least you won’t have 14 steps to walk up to get in your living quarters.
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