Post-hip op post: discoveries to date

that anaesthetists deliver on promises
that heavy sedation is a blissful state of unawareness
that I’m a lesser wimp than I thought

that the state of my affected joint was worse than any of us knew
that my pain threshold must be higher than I knew
that my surgeon is a wizard at carpentry

that post-op pain relief is a heady cocktail
that codeine is the very devil
that it is never a good idea to ditch the drugs too soon

that home is a house with a far-from-ideal floor plan
that the downstairs bathroom is never further away than in the wee small hours
that essential item is upstairs and you’re downstairs – and vice versa

that physio exercises serve to remind one’s muscles what slackers they’ve become
that counting to 10 is far quicker than 10 seconds
that it’s far easier to fall asleep mid-afternoon than at bedtime

that short walks are, at first, longer than one remembers
that a human on crutches is just another four-legged creature to a young puppy on a lead
that two legs of the same length are a joy

that increasing frustration with these wretched crutches is an indicator of progress
that, although my body’s ageing faster than my head, we both feel younger than of late
that there is a fine line between increasing mobility and overdoing things

that, when I have all the time in the world in which to write, there is all the time in the world for displacement activity – or inactivity
that watching the first two minutes of the Jeremy Kyle Show means you’re hooked and waiting for those lie detector results…
that there is always tomorrow – even if today’s a Sunday

that, four weeks in, cabin fever hasn’t set in
that the world doesn’t stop turning when I can’t get to a coffee shop/a poetry event
that next week’s diary is blank space and I don’t care

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