No, that’s not a typo. Nor am I Drew Carey, absentmindedly confusing the “mistake on the lake” with the “city by the water” (funny aside – I thought Stockholm was divided by a bunch of rivers; it’s actually dissected by the Baltic Sea). Speaking of Drew Carey, I never thought he was very funny, but I recently caught a glimpse of him on The Price is Right. Man, he’s fallen off the funny cliff. Paraphrasing the Dan Quayle debate insult, “I knew Bob Barker. And Drew Carey, you’re no Bob Barker.”
Anyway, I enjoyed a week of investigating in Stockholm, Sweden. Yup, that’s right. There’s securities fraud on every corner here, right next to the outdoor cafes. Corrupt Swedes.
Nah, I’m just kidding. The Swedes are good people. In fact, Uffe, some random 50-year old dude who sat next to me at the pub on Friday night bought me something called a Hoegarrden. It was more like a lunch bucket of beer than a mug. Coincidentally, it’s Gay Pride week here. There were probably 20,000 folks celebrating in the streets on Saturday afternoon. In fact, the loud clapping, whistling and continuous playing of the Village People interrupted my power nap. I don’t think Uffe was hitting on me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But he was at the pub with his wife. We did, however, swap phone numbers. You know, just in case I’m ever back in Stockholm or Uffe visits Dallas.
This was my first visit to Stockholm. A nice, relaxed, friendly city. Very clean and active. Everybody seems to either walk or bike places. And they take 3-hour lunches, usually at some outdoor café. I could get used to this lifestyle. In fact, in a perfect world, I’d spend my day sitting at one of these outdoor cafes with my laptop, cranking out blog updates and finishing the mystery novel I’ve been working on for the past 3 years. And then I’d hop onto my Mary Poppins bike and pedal home, tweeting my bell/horn whenever an idiotic tourist wandered into the biking lane. One more thing: I’ve never seen so many pregnant women in my life. And not just pregnant, but bursting at the belly, ready to pop, 9 months pregnant.
How does all of this apply to my knee? Well, let me tell you.
The Stockholm trip was the culmination of a busy summer of travel, hence the lengthy gap between blog postings. This was my third flight in the past 2 weeks (before Sweden, I had two overnight trips to DC). My knee held up just fine on the flights. While the DC trips are a beating, the Stockholm flight really sucks. We fly from Dallas – Chicago (2 hours) and then from Chicago – Stockholm (9 hours), not including the mad “dash” across O’Hare to make my connection (actually, it was more like an old person power walk). The knee got a bit stiffer than usual, but a few laps around the cabin loosened things up.
The knee also handled all the walking around Stockholm. I must’ve walked over 5 miles on at least 3 separate days, perhaps as much as 10 miles on one day, most of them on uneven cobblestone. No problems. I also went up and down plenty of steep steps. I did grip the railing, not because I needed to, but as a precaution. The knee still doesn’t feel “normal” going up and down steps. Actually, it’s fine going down, but heading up still feels abnormal. The strength just isn’t there. If I push off oddly, the knee lacks total stability. (It’s also possible I might’ve torn my meniscus, which, hopefully, is unrelated to the cartilage repaired by ACI. I’m waiting to hear back from the surgeon. Will post more when I get some answers). While the knee doesn’t hurt and I really wasn’t limited in what I could do – other than being unable to sprint across the street if a car came barreling through the intersection – the inability to move freely is frustrating. Again, the analogy of an athlete past his prime struggling to acknowledge his body’s limitations is the best way to describe my situation.
At this point in the rehab, I still struggle over whether the surgery was “worth it.” Unlike most other ACI patients, I wasn’t in daily agony, or unable to function properly. The knee occasionally suffered sharp pains, but I was generally able to perform basic athletic activities, though I couldn’t run or jump without extreme pain/difficulty. I opted for surgery because I was concerned that things were about to go downhill, and didn’t want to reach that abyss when it would be too late to repair my knee.
And that’s what makes my Monday Morning Quarterbacking over the surgery decision difficult. Yeah, I’m still worse off now than I was before the surgery. But it’s foolish to think my quality of life wasn’t about to experience a steep drop if I hadn’t gotten the surgery. Of course, part of me wonders whether I could’ve contained the pain/uncomfortableness by curtailing my activities, while still preserving my ability to perform simple athletic activities. Maybe that’s wishful thinking. I don’t know. Thinking about the “what ifs” really sucks.
I hope that my recovery progresses to the point where I function at least at the level I was at pre-surgery. If so, I’ll consider that a success, because, like I said, I suspect that things were about to get worse. Even at 7 months, it’s still too early to tell whether the ACI surgery “worked,” at least worked as I hoped it would. I feel like it’s election night and the polling places have just closed, but the race is still “too close to call.” In real life, unfortunately, I won’t know the results when I wake up the next morning…
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Taken Down a Notch
There's nothing like a 4-year old birthday swim party to remind you of your mortality.
First, I can't I'm posting a blog entry at 1am on Saturday night, but I'm still wide awake after watching UFC 100. Brock Lesnar is a very large dude. Real good times tonight.
Ok, back to the swim party. One of my daughter's fellow princesses celebrated her bday party at the community swimming pool. I dropped by after work. It was the usual scene -- tons of little kids splashing around the shallow end in the arms of moms and dads, while the older siblings cannonballed into deeper waters.
I relaxed in the shallow end with my daughter. Naturally, she wanted to practice swimming to me. Well, she really doesn't "practice," or at least it wouldn't look that way to folks without kids. But if you've got kids or have spent time at a pool with little ones, you've seen the scene. The munchkin hangs onto the edge of the pool, demands that you stand about 5 feet away, and then she launches herself into your arms. Now, if the parent remains where the child insisted they stand, there isn't enough distance to take a single swim stroke, let alone actually swim.
But crafty parents slowly drift away from the edge after their baby launches into the water, forcing them to take a few strokes before mom/dad rescue them from drowning. I don't think Parenting Magazine would approve. However, just like everybody knows about Code Reds even though they aren't written in the field manual, same goes for these swim tactics. I can see other parents nodding approvingly.
Once the child reaches you, they're either celebrating their swimming abilities, or they're coughing up 3 gallons of water. But they've definitely got the death grip on the parent.
After a few seconds, it's time to return to the pool's edge. And, for me, this is when the pain happened.
Olivia immediately shifted around in my arms until she was standing on my lap and facing the wall ready for the return trip. Basically, she planned to use my lap to springboard back to the side of the pool. I used appropriate caution to protect my knee as she positioned herself. What I didn't anticipate, however, were her legs flailing around. As she attempted to gain traction on my quads, her legs often slipped below my lap. Now they were in the danger zone. She didn't catch me in the nuts. But it was worse. Oh, much worse.
The backs of her heels cracked sharply into my shin, EXACTLY where the 2 screws hold together my tibia. Holy mother of God; that f*ckin' hurt, even worse than watching Bartman snatch that foul ball from Moises Alou.
Eventually Olivia planted herself on my lap and finished her return trek to the wall. Sadly, I didn't get a moment to grieve. As the tears trickled down my cheek, my daughter's much larger friend landed in my lap. This girl delivered a solid 4 or 5 mule kicks to my shin before I could heave her to the edge. Actually, my initial reaction was to club the girl and let the lifeguard deal with her carcass. But I'm pretty sure the moms would've given me the business if I clotheslined this girl. Don't be so surprised. These are the type of parents who get pissed when baby seals get clubbed. No sense of humor. So I gritted my teeth and screamed out for my wife to replace me in the water.
Ok. I don't support clubbing baby seals. That was just a joke. Harpooning them, yes.
Anyway, these little girls are ferocious. I have no doubt my daughter will kick the crap out of the first boy dumb enough to pull her hair.
In the meantime, add "swimming with little kids" to the list of things I absolutely cannot do at 6 months.
First, I can't I'm posting a blog entry at 1am on Saturday night, but I'm still wide awake after watching UFC 100. Brock Lesnar is a very large dude. Real good times tonight.
Ok, back to the swim party. One of my daughter's fellow princesses celebrated her bday party at the community swimming pool. I dropped by after work. It was the usual scene -- tons of little kids splashing around the shallow end in the arms of moms and dads, while the older siblings cannonballed into deeper waters.
I relaxed in the shallow end with my daughter. Naturally, she wanted to practice swimming to me. Well, she really doesn't "practice," or at least it wouldn't look that way to folks without kids. But if you've got kids or have spent time at a pool with little ones, you've seen the scene. The munchkin hangs onto the edge of the pool, demands that you stand about 5 feet away, and then she launches herself into your arms. Now, if the parent remains where the child insisted they stand, there isn't enough distance to take a single swim stroke, let alone actually swim.
But crafty parents slowly drift away from the edge after their baby launches into the water, forcing them to take a few strokes before mom/dad rescue them from drowning. I don't think Parenting Magazine would approve. However, just like everybody knows about Code Reds even though they aren't written in the field manual, same goes for these swim tactics. I can see other parents nodding approvingly.
Once the child reaches you, they're either celebrating their swimming abilities, or they're coughing up 3 gallons of water. But they've definitely got the death grip on the parent.
After a few seconds, it's time to return to the pool's edge. And, for me, this is when the pain happened.
Olivia immediately shifted around in my arms until she was standing on my lap and facing the wall ready for the return trip. Basically, she planned to use my lap to springboard back to the side of the pool. I used appropriate caution to protect my knee as she positioned herself. What I didn't anticipate, however, were her legs flailing around. As she attempted to gain traction on my quads, her legs often slipped below my lap. Now they were in the danger zone. She didn't catch me in the nuts. But it was worse. Oh, much worse.
The backs of her heels cracked sharply into my shin, EXACTLY where the 2 screws hold together my tibia. Holy mother of God; that f*ckin' hurt, even worse than watching Bartman snatch that foul ball from Moises Alou.
Eventually Olivia planted herself on my lap and finished her return trek to the wall. Sadly, I didn't get a moment to grieve. As the tears trickled down my cheek, my daughter's much larger friend landed in my lap. This girl delivered a solid 4 or 5 mule kicks to my shin before I could heave her to the edge. Actually, my initial reaction was to club the girl and let the lifeguard deal with her carcass. But I'm pretty sure the moms would've given me the business if I clotheslined this girl. Don't be so surprised. These are the type of parents who get pissed when baby seals get clubbed. No sense of humor. So I gritted my teeth and screamed out for my wife to replace me in the water.
Ok. I don't support clubbing baby seals. That was just a joke. Harpooning them, yes.
Anyway, these little girls are ferocious. I have no doubt my daughter will kick the crap out of the first boy dumb enough to pull her hair.
In the meantime, add "swimming with little kids" to the list of things I absolutely cannot do at 6 months.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
6-Month MRI Results
Relief. Well, partial relief anyway. (More on that in a second.) My visit with Dr. T was punctuated by several high-fives, each as awkward as the ones between Tiger Woods and his caddie after a heroic birdie putt. Even though I didn’t hoist the Claret Jug during this appointment, I nonetheless received some good news.
The 6-month MRI showed that my graft is healing “beautifully,” to use Dr. T’s choice of words. The graft is completely filled in. First high-five. No overgrowth, fissures, cracks, or other deformities. Second high-five. Most importantly, the cloned cartilage appears to be bonding smoothly with the existing cartilage. Final high-five.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have an MRI report to review, so I’m hesitant to suggest that everything inside my bionic knee is “beautiful.” The MRI technician thought he was supposed to examine a potential “ACL” surgery, not ACI. He said my ACL looked great. Um, thanks? Since I’ve never torn my ACL, I guess that’s a good thing for the technician’s career prospects. I told Dr. T he should take credit for making my ACL look as good as new. Anyway, I’m supposed to get the correct report sometime this week. Hopefully Dr. T didn’t miss anything during his independent review of the films.
Dr. T was downright giddy, perhaps even happier than I was. He even called me his “poster child” for the ACI surgery. While I’m pretty stoked to learn that my knee’s healing as well as can be expected, I still worry whether my knee will ever become “normal” again. Plus, I’m hesitant to rejoice until I see the complete report. Now, I don’t want to be a wet blanket, ruining the good news like Gretchen Mol in Rounders. But the MRI doesn’t explain the random aches or clicking in my knee, nor does it answer why I’m still having difficulty bending/squatting on 1-leg. Hopefully, those issues are just part of the natural healing progression, as Dr. T seemed to think. In fact, after the final high-five Dr. T tempered his own enthusiasm, noting that ACI recovery isn’t a 10-K race, but a marathon. Well, if that’s true, hopefully I just passed the 13-mile marker ahead of a bunch of Kenyans, fully hydrated and without any cramps.
(Ok. If this was a newspaper column or magazine piece, this blog posting would’ve ended with that previous sentence’s beautiful wrap-up. Fitting and humorous. But screw my editor’s advice; I’ve still got a few more things to share).
6 months is probably a good time to mark my progress. Here’s what I can do:
• Walk for miles (and chew bubble-gum at the same time). On the treadmill, I’m now up to
3.5mph and can handle an incline of 6-8 with no problem. I can also shuffle sideways and walk backwards without tripping over my feet.
• Stationary bike at fairly high resistance. I’m getting a “real” bike sometime this month. I haven’t owned a bike since the early 1980s when I traded in my 300lb NY Giants dirt bike with the banana seat for a discounted, blue Sears 10-speed (my dad used to work at Sears).
• Moonwalk across the kitchen floor in my parachute pants
• Elliptical machine for 25-30 minutes at a fairly tame pace and incline
• Gently kick a soccer ball with my kids
Here’s what still gives me problems:
• 1-legged squats/bends beyond 45-60 degrees; 2 legged squats and wall sits are ok because I “cheat” a bit by placing more pressure on my good wheel
• Kneeling; crawling; kneeing evil-doers in the head with any amount of force
Here’s what I can’t do/haven’t even tried:
• Running
• Jumping
• Eat 68 Nathan’s hot dogs in 10 minutes (or even in 10 months)
6 months down; 6-12 more to go, I guess. I now embark on that vague recovery stage. I really don’t have any more major milestones or markers to pass, though 8 months (32 weeks) might be considered one. Everything’s now incremental advancements based on subjective feeling. I’ll continue to slowly increase the amount of weight or reps on various quad-building exercises. Once I gain sufficient strength – though I’m not sure what’s considered, “sufficient” – I’ll progress to rollerblading -- one of the pitstops between walking and running. I’ll probably piss in my pants the first time I do. Actually, Christina will probably be more nervous; maybe she’ll pee enough for both of us. After that, it’s just a matter of time (and Dr. T’s blessing) before I try more aggressive activities, like light jogging. That’s still at least 6 months away, but then again, I can’t believe it’s been six months since the surgery.
The 6-month MRI showed that my graft is healing “beautifully,” to use Dr. T’s choice of words. The graft is completely filled in. First high-five. No overgrowth, fissures, cracks, or other deformities. Second high-five. Most importantly, the cloned cartilage appears to be bonding smoothly with the existing cartilage. Final high-five.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have an MRI report to review, so I’m hesitant to suggest that everything inside my bionic knee is “beautiful.” The MRI technician thought he was supposed to examine a potential “ACL” surgery, not ACI. He said my ACL looked great. Um, thanks? Since I’ve never torn my ACL, I guess that’s a good thing for the technician’s career prospects. I told Dr. T he should take credit for making my ACL look as good as new. Anyway, I’m supposed to get the correct report sometime this week. Hopefully Dr. T didn’t miss anything during his independent review of the films.
Dr. T was downright giddy, perhaps even happier than I was. He even called me his “poster child” for the ACI surgery. While I’m pretty stoked to learn that my knee’s healing as well as can be expected, I still worry whether my knee will ever become “normal” again. Plus, I’m hesitant to rejoice until I see the complete report. Now, I don’t want to be a wet blanket, ruining the good news like Gretchen Mol in Rounders. But the MRI doesn’t explain the random aches or clicking in my knee, nor does it answer why I’m still having difficulty bending/squatting on 1-leg. Hopefully, those issues are just part of the natural healing progression, as Dr. T seemed to think. In fact, after the final high-five Dr. T tempered his own enthusiasm, noting that ACI recovery isn’t a 10-K race, but a marathon. Well, if that’s true, hopefully I just passed the 13-mile marker ahead of a bunch of Kenyans, fully hydrated and without any cramps.
(Ok. If this was a newspaper column or magazine piece, this blog posting would’ve ended with that previous sentence’s beautiful wrap-up. Fitting and humorous. But screw my editor’s advice; I’ve still got a few more things to share).
6 months is probably a good time to mark my progress. Here’s what I can do:
• Walk for miles (and chew bubble-gum at the same time). On the treadmill, I’m now up to
3.5mph and can handle an incline of 6-8 with no problem. I can also shuffle sideways and walk backwards without tripping over my feet.
• Stationary bike at fairly high resistance. I’m getting a “real” bike sometime this month. I haven’t owned a bike since the early 1980s when I traded in my 300lb NY Giants dirt bike with the banana seat for a discounted, blue Sears 10-speed (my dad used to work at Sears).
• Moonwalk across the kitchen floor in my parachute pants
• Elliptical machine for 25-30 minutes at a fairly tame pace and incline
• Gently kick a soccer ball with my kids
Here’s what still gives me problems:
• 1-legged squats/bends beyond 45-60 degrees; 2 legged squats and wall sits are ok because I “cheat” a bit by placing more pressure on my good wheel
• Kneeling; crawling; kneeing evil-doers in the head with any amount of force
Here’s what I can’t do/haven’t even tried:
• Running
• Jumping
• Eat 68 Nathan’s hot dogs in 10 minutes (or even in 10 months)
6 months down; 6-12 more to go, I guess. I now embark on that vague recovery stage. I really don’t have any more major milestones or markers to pass, though 8 months (32 weeks) might be considered one. Everything’s now incremental advancements based on subjective feeling. I’ll continue to slowly increase the amount of weight or reps on various quad-building exercises. Once I gain sufficient strength – though I’m not sure what’s considered, “sufficient” – I’ll progress to rollerblading -- one of the pitstops between walking and running. I’ll probably piss in my pants the first time I do. Actually, Christina will probably be more nervous; maybe she’ll pee enough for both of us. After that, it’s just a matter of time (and Dr. T’s blessing) before I try more aggressive activities, like light jogging. That’s still at least 6 months away, but then again, I can’t believe it’s been six months since the surgery.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Almost 6 Months -- MRI pending
I like coffee. I really do. That has nothing to do with my rehab; I just thought I’d share that.
It’s been an unusual past week, week and a half. I experienced some minor discomfort in my knee, the first time I’ve felt something other than the occasional swelling and soreness. I don’t want to overstate the discomfort, but it was a somewhat piercing pain, like a little pinprick on the medial side. This is where my lesions are, though not where I felt pain pre-surgery. Hopefully it’s nothing serious. It didn’t last more than a few moments, and only a handful of times. I think I over-did a cardio workout last week. At least I hope that’s all it was.
Perhaps emboldened by the somewhat normal state my knee seemed to achieve, I did a fairly moderate cardio workout. I spent 15 minutes on the elliptical, followed by 15 minutes on the bike, followed by another 15 minutes on the elliptical. No break in between exercises, with the entire time spent at a level only a notch or two below what I used to do pre-surgery. Too much, too soon? Perhaps. I’ve since backed off, returning to a gentler level on the elliptical. The “pain” has since disappeared.
Now, I don’t want to suggest that by calling my knee, “normal,” I’m close to returning to pre-surgery levels. God, no. By normal, I mean I can walk around without people gawking at me like I was John Merrick. I still lack any athletic prowess, and occasionally resort to the “old man shuffle,” as a friend described my movements at a recent baseball practice. And I don’t see myself cliff-diving in Acapulco anytime soon. But I’ve now reached the point that I feel dirty for parking in the handicap spots. Is that progress? Or just a sign that I’ve developed a guilty conscience?
My knee continues to click/catch at random moments, sometimes even making soft clicks while walking normally. No pain or discomfort, though. And if I walk slow enough, or focus on walking a certain way, my knee won’t click/catch. I still start each morning with a lovely “popping” sound when I finally exit my bed. That’s just my knee waking up in the morning. On the positive side, the back of my knee – popliteus tendon? – no longer aches or pops. Anyway, I’m hoping the MRI reveals the cause of these noises.
Ah, the MRI. I enjoyed the cold comfort of the human test tube on Monday morning, laying perfectly still for 35 minutes. Jack FM – the radio station without DJs – provided the in-flight entertainment. Amazingly, the films were ready immediately after the MRI, though it’ll take a day or so to prepare the actual report. I review the results with my surgeon on Wednesday, exactly 6 months after my surgery. No need to speculate what the MRI will show. I’ll update later.
I suffered an emotional setback recently. Not a death blow. More like Johnny sweeping Daniel-san’s leg. My knee’s healed sufficiently that I can kick the soccer ball in the backyard with my 7-yr old. Nothing sophisticated. Just some simple back-and-forth passing, using my good leg 95% of the time. I tried teaching my son a few dribbling moves, but quickly discovered I lack the lateral movement even to demonstrate them. I’ve got 1-step range, and that one step is R-E-A-L slow. Very depressing. I hope this is only a temporary limitation, but I’m pretty concerned it’s permanent. I never imagined I wouldn’t be able to physically assist my son’s sports development. That’s extraordinarily difficult to accept. Hopefully my mediocre athletic abilities return over the next 12 months as the cloned cartilage heals.
It’s been an unusual past week, week and a half. I experienced some minor discomfort in my knee, the first time I’ve felt something other than the occasional swelling and soreness. I don’t want to overstate the discomfort, but it was a somewhat piercing pain, like a little pinprick on the medial side. This is where my lesions are, though not where I felt pain pre-surgery. Hopefully it’s nothing serious. It didn’t last more than a few moments, and only a handful of times. I think I over-did a cardio workout last week. At least I hope that’s all it was.
Perhaps emboldened by the somewhat normal state my knee seemed to achieve, I did a fairly moderate cardio workout. I spent 15 minutes on the elliptical, followed by 15 minutes on the bike, followed by another 15 minutes on the elliptical. No break in between exercises, with the entire time spent at a level only a notch or two below what I used to do pre-surgery. Too much, too soon? Perhaps. I’ve since backed off, returning to a gentler level on the elliptical. The “pain” has since disappeared.
Now, I don’t want to suggest that by calling my knee, “normal,” I’m close to returning to pre-surgery levels. God, no. By normal, I mean I can walk around without people gawking at me like I was John Merrick. I still lack any athletic prowess, and occasionally resort to the “old man shuffle,” as a friend described my movements at a recent baseball practice. And I don’t see myself cliff-diving in Acapulco anytime soon. But I’ve now reached the point that I feel dirty for parking in the handicap spots. Is that progress? Or just a sign that I’ve developed a guilty conscience?
My knee continues to click/catch at random moments, sometimes even making soft clicks while walking normally. No pain or discomfort, though. And if I walk slow enough, or focus on walking a certain way, my knee won’t click/catch. I still start each morning with a lovely “popping” sound when I finally exit my bed. That’s just my knee waking up in the morning. On the positive side, the back of my knee – popliteus tendon? – no longer aches or pops. Anyway, I’m hoping the MRI reveals the cause of these noises.
Ah, the MRI. I enjoyed the cold comfort of the human test tube on Monday morning, laying perfectly still for 35 minutes. Jack FM – the radio station without DJs – provided the in-flight entertainment. Amazingly, the films were ready immediately after the MRI, though it’ll take a day or so to prepare the actual report. I review the results with my surgeon on Wednesday, exactly 6 months after my surgery. No need to speculate what the MRI will show. I’ll update later.
I suffered an emotional setback recently. Not a death blow. More like Johnny sweeping Daniel-san’s leg. My knee’s healed sufficiently that I can kick the soccer ball in the backyard with my 7-yr old. Nothing sophisticated. Just some simple back-and-forth passing, using my good leg 95% of the time. I tried teaching my son a few dribbling moves, but quickly discovered I lack the lateral movement even to demonstrate them. I’ve got 1-step range, and that one step is R-E-A-L slow. Very depressing. I hope this is only a temporary limitation, but I’m pretty concerned it’s permanent. I never imagined I wouldn’t be able to physically assist my son’s sports development. That’s extraordinarily difficult to accept. Hopefully my mediocre athletic abilities return over the next 12 months as the cloned cartilage heals.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tragedy is Comedy
One of my favorite expressions compares tragedy and comedy. I’ve heard several versions used, but it goes something like this: “The difference between tragedy and comedy is 15 minutes.” The precise timeframe might vary, but the sentiment is that once you step away from something -- even something terrible -- you’ll be able to laugh about it. The trick, it seems, is being able to survive those first 15 minutes.
Now, I’m not sure 15 minutes is enough time to process a tragic event, just as I’m sure there are certain events that are never funny. I mean, I can’t imagine pounding Budweisers with a buddy 15 minutes after witnessing a fatal car crash, and then laughing about how far the dude’s body flew through the air.
But I understand the point behind this expression. To move beyond a tragedy, you need to create enough distance to de-personalize the situation; enough space that you’re able to laugh without offending or being offended.
That’s been a valuable lesson to learn during this recovery. (Yes, I realize there are plenty things worse than ACI knee surgery, but give me some leeway here). It sucked tremendously having my wife heave my crumpled, naked body onto a shower chair (without any chance for some shower nookie). And it sucked having to beg my wife to bolt down the toilet seat riser just so I could take a dump. Tremendous indignities. Some men have been permanently scarred by far less.
But you know what? Some of the sh*t ACI patients suffer through is pretty damn funny. Seriously. Being forced to poop on Nutty Professor-sized toilets? Freakin’ hysterical. Except, of course, when it happens to you. You just need enough time to remove yourself from that humiliating moment to recognize the humor. The sooner you do so, the easier the recovery will be.
On a completely separate topic, here’s a list of TV shows I’ve enjoyed through the power of Netflix. If you’re about to undergo ACI, I recommend picking up some of these DVDs to help pass the time during those first few days/weeks.
The Wire – “real” look at inner-city Baltimore, with each season focusing on a different aspect: drugs/cops, docks, politicians, schools and the newspaper industry. 5 seasons. Probably the best show, start-to-finish, I’ve ever watched. Lots of great characters; lots of plot lines. It might take a few episodes before you’re fully invested, but stick with it. You won’t be disappointed.
Extras – Ricky Gervais stars as movie extra who makes it big. 2 short seasons.
The Office – we’ve only watched the American version, but clever stuff.
Big Love – Polygamist family life. Season 1 was much better than Season 2, though we heard Season 3 is solid.
Arrested Development – smart person’s comedy. 3 seasons
Mad Men – sophisticated drama focusing on the 1950s NYC advertising world. Only 1 season available on disk right now.
Friday Night Lights – just started watching this high school football show, but so far it’s solid. 3 seasons
Curb Your Enthusiasm – uncomfortable humor at its finest. 6 seasons
Entourage – Hollywood star enjoys life with boyhood friends. The first season was excellent, but it steadily went downhill. Still, it's mindless entertainment. 5 seasons
Now, I’m not sure 15 minutes is enough time to process a tragic event, just as I’m sure there are certain events that are never funny. I mean, I can’t imagine pounding Budweisers with a buddy 15 minutes after witnessing a fatal car crash, and then laughing about how far the dude’s body flew through the air.
But I understand the point behind this expression. To move beyond a tragedy, you need to create enough distance to de-personalize the situation; enough space that you’re able to laugh without offending or being offended.
That’s been a valuable lesson to learn during this recovery. (Yes, I realize there are plenty things worse than ACI knee surgery, but give me some leeway here). It sucked tremendously having my wife heave my crumpled, naked body onto a shower chair (without any chance for some shower nookie). And it sucked having to beg my wife to bolt down the toilet seat riser just so I could take a dump. Tremendous indignities. Some men have been permanently scarred by far less.
But you know what? Some of the sh*t ACI patients suffer through is pretty damn funny. Seriously. Being forced to poop on Nutty Professor-sized toilets? Freakin’ hysterical. Except, of course, when it happens to you. You just need enough time to remove yourself from that humiliating moment to recognize the humor. The sooner you do so, the easier the recovery will be.
On a completely separate topic, here’s a list of TV shows I’ve enjoyed through the power of Netflix. If you’re about to undergo ACI, I recommend picking up some of these DVDs to help pass the time during those first few days/weeks.
The Wire – “real” look at inner-city Baltimore, with each season focusing on a different aspect: drugs/cops, docks, politicians, schools and the newspaper industry. 5 seasons. Probably the best show, start-to-finish, I’ve ever watched. Lots of great characters; lots of plot lines. It might take a few episodes before you’re fully invested, but stick with it. You won’t be disappointed.
Extras – Ricky Gervais stars as movie extra who makes it big. 2 short seasons.
The Office – we’ve only watched the American version, but clever stuff.
Big Love – Polygamist family life. Season 1 was much better than Season 2, though we heard Season 3 is solid.
Arrested Development – smart person’s comedy. 3 seasons
Mad Men – sophisticated drama focusing on the 1950s NYC advertising world. Only 1 season available on disk right now.
Friday Night Lights – just started watching this high school football show, but so far it’s solid. 3 seasons
Curb Your Enthusiasm – uncomfortable humor at its finest. 6 seasons
Entourage – Hollywood star enjoys life with boyhood friends. The first season was excellent, but it steadily went downhill. Still, it's mindless entertainment. 5 seasons
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