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We are three adults living in a polyamorous triad family. The content here is intended for an adult audience. If you are not an adult, please leave now.
Five Weeks And One Day
His new knee was five weeks old yesterday. So, today is five weeks and one day.
The first two weeks, He was pretty miserable. It hurt. A lot. I kept Him routinely dosed on percocet and valium, right on schedule, around the clock. The medications made Him sleep a lot. When He wasn't asleep, He was hurting -- and pretty well out of it; unaware of much of what was happening. He needed help to get up from a seated position, and help getting in and out of bed. He was completely dependent on His walker for mobility. I worked to keep up with His home based P.T. and nursing appointments; keep Him doing His physical therapy routines; get Him fed and bathed and dressed and iced. None of it was out of the ordinary for this kind of surgery.
After we saw the surgeon, 13 days after the surgery, we were able to get out and get Him into physical therapy outside the house. We have, over the years, developed a relationship with an excellent physical therapy practice, and beginning in week three, He has had sessions there three days a week. Somewhere along the way, between week three and four, He gradually stopped taking the prescription pain medications and began making the transition to over the counter drugs including tylenol, aleve, and ibuprofen. He also began to make the transition from using the walker to walking with a cane. Each day He's grown stronger, more mobile, and more comfortable. Slowly, the effects of all the medications and the trauma of the surgery itself have receded and He's been more and more like Himself.
And so we made it to the five week mark. Yesterday. Five weeks.
We've gone through so many surgeries together over the years, and we all understand that there is the fact and necessity of the recovery period afterwards. Healing takes time. Recovery takes time. We're old pros. But, I always seem to come to a point where I start to believe that it will never end; that things will always be the way they are in this exact moment. First I get tired. Then I despair. Then I just suck it up and go on.
Five weeks is just about time enough for me to have reached the "suck it up" phase. And that's pretty much where I've been.
But recovery does not go on forever; even if it feels like it might. Even after a total knee replacement, healing happens; rehabilitation occurs; and life improves. This time, that happened today -- at five weeks and one day.
We woke up this morning, and did what has become our usual morning check in: "How are You? Did You sleep? Do You need medicine?" And then, wonder of wonders, "I really want to spank you this morning."
WhooHoo! "Hooray!" I exclaimed. I was sooooooooo... ready.
But then, there was the question of logistics. He is still using a cane a lot of the time. Mostly for balance. Since it is His left leg that is the surgical leg, He needs to use the cane in His right hand -- His spanking hand. I was worried. He was determined. Determined always wins :-) I got the spanking pillow and got myself all arranged. He gathered up the things He wanted and started in. It was clear from the start that He was going to be "efficient," and I figured that He wasn't sure how long He could stand up on that knee. So, He used the LeatherThorn paddles and the hairbrush paddle and the dressage whip and... I am not sure what else. I moaned and grunted, but it was fine -- really good.
He seemed to enjoy it, too. And... I came to a realization in the middle of it all; something that I had not understood before. But maybe I'll just leave this as it is, and get to that tomorrow.