Five weeks post-op!

Can you believe it?

Five weeks already!

I saw the physiotherapist yesterday and she is beyond delighted with my progress.

She is amazed that I am doing as well as I am.  She said that she had been quite sure that I would be "behind" in rehabbing because of the fibro.

I thought that too.  My doctor had warned me to expect a significant delay.

But it seems that although I've suffered some setbacks due to fibro flare-ups, I've bounced right back and made up for lost time.

So while the plan had been to wean me from the walker to the cane starting this week, I have been moved from the walker to the cane.

Just like that!

My therapist said there's no point delaying it -- I'm walking just fine with the aid of the cane.

Woo hoo!  What freedom!

She made me promise to continue using the walker in the evening when I'm tired just for the safety aspect.  And I must use it during the night if I get up to go to the washroom (again for safety's sake).  Makes sense to me.

I'm also to still use the walker outdoors and for long distances.  Fatigue continues to be an issue for me so she wants me to have the extra support when I get tired.

But oh the joy of walking about the house just using the cane.

And I always hated using my cane.  All those years before the surgery I would reject the cane at every opportunity.  Now, I'm delighted to be using it.

My how things change in a short period of time!

It's BASEBALL Season!!!

It is. It is!!!

Yesterday, we listened to the first Jays game of the season on the radio.

OK, it was a Spring Training game but it was still a game.

And oh it was nice to spend the afternoon with my Boys of Summer.

We won the game too -- Jays 7 to Pirates 1.

The only thing that would have made it better was if we'd have had the visual.

But that's OK.

Before too much longer, the TV broadcasts will be upon us and you know where I'll be.

Go Jays Go!!!!!!

It's Income Tax season

Yup, here it is again.

Time to let the tax man know how little money we have left after he's done with us.

It's pathetic really, how much tax we pay for how little return we actually see.

Realistically speaking, I suppose we do get a lot for our dollar.  But with our health care system in the disarray that we are all feeling, and our social programs being abused as they are, it's really difficult to want to pay taxes to support such efforts.

My personal bitch is the amount of tax seniors pay on their limited incomes.  Now that is pathetic!  I truly believe that our seniors, who have contributed to society all their lives, should be exempt from all taxes on the first $60,000.00 of income (that would take care of a good many of our senior population).  Any seniors with income over that threshold can well afford to continue paying a tax share on the income that exceeds that level.

But that's not the way Canada's taxman sees things.  And taxes we must pay.

So every year at this time, I hunker down and crunch the numbers.

I've always found tax filing fairly easy, unlike most people I know who can't get their heads around it.

For as long as I was in the work world, I always prepared income tax returns for my co-workers.  I remember at one point, it was joked that perhaps we should put a "take a number" system outside my door at tax time.

Of course, once I retired, the number of returns I prepared dwindled considerably.

But with the rise of the internet and the ease of transferring files, last year it grew again when my sister in Waterloo asked for tax advice. Before I knew it, I was filing returns for her, her husband and their daughter.  (I think this year I'm gaining another daughter's return too.)

I also still do a good friend's return, as well as her husband's.  I used to do all three of her children's returns but they've all grown and moved on.

My little chickadee mastered the task some years ago so she does her families' returns, but not without several calls to Mom to clarify situations.

I'm not sure how it came about that I garnered all the tax knowledge that I carry around in my head -- be it from my work history or just personal interest.  But tax knowledge I have.  Even stuff that has no relevance to me is filed away in my memory bank.

People used to ask me how I knew the stuff I know about our tax system and the only answer I could give them was, "I read a lot."  And truth be known, I guess that is precisely where I got the knowledge.  It seems that I migrate to any printed matter about taxation.  The subject, for whatever reason, fascinates me.

So I've become everyone's "tax expert."

As the saying goes,  "A little learning is a dangerous thing."

MMMMM, I love Thursdays!

I do.  I really love this day of the week.

Why?

Because today is the day my massage therapist comes to my home.

And I love the fact that she comes to me, rather than I have to go to her.

It means that I can loll about the house all morning in my jammies, not showering until around the 11:30am mark.

She arrives promptly at 1:00pm to do her magic.

We lock ourselves in my sanctuary for the duration and it's just wonderful, let me tell you.

This arrangement all came about quite some time ago when she and her husband, who is her partner in the clinic, made changes to the building that houses their clinic.

The clinic is in an old Victorian style home that they used to live in, operating the clinic out of one half of the building.  Their family grew too large for that arrangement so they bought a different home but kept the clinic as it was.  Then they renovated to rent out half the building to help with the economics of the new arrangement.

The renovations involved essentially splitting the house into two sides, leaving the clinic side with no downstairs washroom (obviously, the washroom went to the tenant).

Therein lay the problem.

While I could have my massage on the main floor, I need to go the washroom both before and immediately after my treatment (that "thimble" of a bladder, you know!).  And I simply couldn't manage the long, steep staircase up to the level that houses the treatment rooms and the washroom.

She offered to come to my home.  (There is a plan to put a washroom in on the main floor but it is unclear as to when that might happen.)

Of course, since my surgery I surely can't manage those stairs yet.

So she continues to come to my home.

I'm thinking I might never be able to manage those stairs!

Happy Leap Day

It's Leap Day -- the day that occurs once every four years.

Every time this day rolls around, I'm reminded of my twin cousins who were born on this date back in 1956.

They were quite the celebrities when they were young, often photographed by the local newspaper along with whoever was the eldest living Leap Baby in the region.

Now, as they celebrate their 14th birthday, the joke material is endless of course.  They both have wives and families (now adult children).  They're grandfathers, for heavens sakes.

Yet, they need only wait sixteen more years to become officially old enough to drink. (They will actually have been on this earth for 74 years by then!)

But, on a brighter note, in only eight more years they can get their drivers' licences.

Go figure!

Anyway, happy birthday, L and L!

Four weeks post-op

Here I am, four weeks post-op and my progress continues to amaze my physiotherapist.

She tells me that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be for this point in the recovery phase.  Which surprises her, given the fibromyalgia and all.

She's aware of the set-backs I'm having because of the fatigue issues so she marvels that I'm doing as well as I am.  But I'm clearly demonstrating progress each week.

I had to fess up to a bit of an "accident" last week and we kind of had a good giggle about it, although it could have had much more serious repercussions.

A friend had come over to have me help him with a project and in doing so I went to retrieve a piece of plastic protector sheet for the document.  The protector sheets just happen to be in a box on the floor of the storage closet.  Without even thinking, I crouched down to get it.

Oops!  And I mean big time oops!

I had to have him come and grab me gently by the armpits to lift me up.

He said he wondered what I was doing when I so quickly bent down like that.

Truth is, I forgot that I couldn't do it!

I paid the price on Saturday and Sunday as no amount of icing would relieve the pain in the muscle that I had pulled.

By yesterday, it was still giving me a little trouble but had let up considerably.

My physiotherapist told me I was lucky -- said that I obviously had a very good surgeon who tied everything up very well.  But yes, it would hurt for a while.

In any event, in spite of having done that, she is still pleased with my progress so I guess I didn't do any permanent damage.

*Phew*

We discussed the phenomenon that occurs at this point in recovery:  patient is feeling so much better, more confident, that she believes she can do lots more and she forgets her restrictions.  This is the phase during which serious accidents can occur because the patient feels overly confident.  It's imperative to respect the restrictions until those restrictions are lifted by the physiotherapist! 

Anyway, she tells me that she will probably start weaning me from the walker to the cane between weeks five and six (next week).  She wants to go extra slowly with me because of the fibromyalgia.  If she goes too quickly, we'll just have a set-back and not be able to make any progress at all.  And we don't want that to happen.

I have to agree with her approach.

There is an unexpected benefit to using this damned walker though.  It really does take a lot of work to use a walker.  It's burning the weight off me at a phenomenal rate.  I might be sorry to see it go before I reach my goal weight!

Three steps forward ...

... and one step back.

I don't know what's going on but it seems every time I make a bit of progress, up jumps fibro rearing its ugly head.

Then I have to take an enforced day of doing nothing ... and I mean doing nothing!

It's so very frustrating.

This recovery phase has me doing little enough. And I'm sure that is exactly why fibro keeps making its presence known -- too little activity.

So once the fibro flares up, I am prevented from doing even the minimal exercises that I'm supposed to be doing every day.  I just can't manage them.

But if I could do more in a day than just those minimal exercises, fibro wouldn't feel it necessary to appear.

Vicious cycle it seems.

What came first -- the chicken or the egg?

Obviously, it's difficult to find the balance my body needs during this recovery phase.

Fortunately, I see my physiotherapist tomorrow and I'll discuss this conundrum with her.