Uncle Enore’s update on being worthless (crippled,) with a loose discussion of the semantics of being gimped.

November 6:  Total left hip arthroplasty.  Not only that, they cut out the old hip and pounded in a new one.

November 8:  Home again, home again.  Did so well in the hospital that my surgeon decided to boot me out on the third day.  Suited me just fine. I mean, being in the hospital ain’t all that bad and most, if not all, of the nursing staff was cute, if not hot, but not once did any of ‘em come in to give me a hand job. OH, sure…sure, there was that one RN…yes, cute and hot…who yanked my catheter out, but…you may find this odd…when one is pulling a garden hose out of the end of your dick, sweet love is the last thing from your mind. Or it was mine. I know there are guys that get way into “sounding,” but that ain’t me.  I figure that whatever size the good Jew lord decided my urethra should be, it should remain. Besides…you guys ever have anything shoved up your dick? Yeah…avoid it if you can.

November 12:  Intake into home physical therapy.  Gay guy, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

November 13:  Home physical therapy began with Lory. Or it might be Lorri…Lorrie…or some other variant.  She gave me her card, of course, but also “of course,”  I didn’t bother to look at it.

November 21:  Was informed by good ole Lorry that, due to my high functioning,  home physical therapy would no longer be of value to me, that it was time for me to get into the clinic so I could get on the machines and get some hard work going.

December 3:  First day, post op, at PT clinic. I say “post op” to differentiate this visit from the other million times I’ve been there.   I’ve been going to this clinic for about four years now, maybe a little bit less, but always as a severe cripple.  This time I came back as less of a cripple than I was before…but herein lies a bit of a discussion we need to have.  (Ok, we don’t “need” to have it, but this is my blog, so if I wanna discuss something, however banal, I’m free to do so.  Watch and learn how this works…)

I was first ushered into the world of The Cripple when a loaded forklift smooshed my left foot.  As you might imagine, that pretty well fucks up one’s ability to walk, and I did not for about a year.  When I was able to begin trying to walk again, I found out that the more I “walked,” the more my left hip hurt, in addition to my foot.  Time goes by, and eventually the hip pain overshadows the foot pain (god, I sound like an old gimp…) and over the period of about two years, completely consumes my life.  The best I was ever able to walk after getting forklifted was two blocks, with two rest stops along the way,  and as time went by and my hip bones began to rub on themselves, my ability to walk virtually disappeared. I hobbled, and barely.

Ok, so from all this shit, you can see that there was no question that I was, indeed, a major…and a permanent…gimp. (adjudicated)

Well, now I have my hip fixed and am on the road to having that under control. 

So, what’s the issue? Well, first, on the question of my hip…with a prosthetic hip, am I still a hip cripple?  I would guess so, in the same sense that some fucker who gets a leg blowed off in Afghanistan and gets a fake leg.  Everyone calls him a hero and shit, but let’s face it…the dude can only be in the Gimp Olympics, right? Ergo, he must still be a cripple, even though he’s fixed.

Ok, so, by that reasoning, fixed or not, I have a hip full of ceramic, plastic, and titanium…every bit as much a prosthesis as the one legged war hero, but not nearly as cool, I’ll admit…so, yeah,  I guess I’m still a cripple, hip-wise.

Now that I’ve figured this out, we don’t have to discuss the gimp-worthiness of my foot.  I’m a cripple there, too.

Alrighty, then.  I’m glad we’ve had this little talk, I guess. I mean, I could have just thought it out myself instead of bothering you people with it.  Oh, well…this shit is free, it don’t gotta be good.

I also found out this morning at physical therapy that, while my cane-less walking is good, my left, operated-on leg measures shorter than my right leg. The hope is that, over time, that will correct itself…apparently it often does, but not always. 

Lessee, now…what else…OH, this is a beauty. Look, my car is very low to the ground and before surgery I had a hell of a time getting into or out of the damned thing.  I’ve not driven it since surgery for just that reason.  The Lesbian has been commuting to school in it, not because it’s new, she says, but because MY car gets 40 mpg and hers gets 20. 

Well, I’m pretty interested in getting out of our 12 mpg  big ole pickup (Tina’s Texas truck) and back into my car, but I found out this morning that if my butt is lower than my knees when I’m sitting in it…which it is…then I cannot get in it until I am released from my hip restrictions…another two to five months.  I could raise that up by sitting on a pillow, for example, but then my head would be sticking out the sunroof, and I suppose some fucking cop would piss and moan about it. I dunno, but there seems to be something fucked up about this, goddamned kid is gonna skate with my car again…

By the way, "hip restrictions” are the things I cannot do with my new hero’s hip, unless I want it to dislocate which, I’ve been assured by all concerned, ain’t fun.  Three months to six months, depending on how well I heal…or something.

Enough of this shit, don’t you think?