I have belonged to the local YMCA's "Post Surgery Group" since May 2008. I had a hip replacement suggested by my surgeon that perhaps I would have an easier time with the second replacement if I joined this aquatic wonderland. I do believe that I am the youngest or among the youngest of this eclectic senior group .
The name of this group has also been called the "Over The Hill Gang", for obvious reasons. I prefer to call us "The Land of the Misfit Toys." We each have our own personal history of why we landed here in the first place. Trust me, this ain't the bluebirds reading group from my childhood. Many of us have arthritis, such as myself, and have had a host of parts replaced or refined. Some have literally lost parts. Some have had strokes and are partially paralyzed. And then there are those who are there simply for the social factor. In other words, they need to exercise their jaw. There is never a lack of chit-chat in this group, and laughter abounds.
If you combined us all together, perhaps you would get one working person. But one thing is for certain. In the short number of months that I have been a member of this floundering school of Flipper wannabes, I have learned to love each and every one of them. Some of them have given me presents; sent me Christmas and/or get well cards. Dan sends me jokes that are "just a little naughty." Members actually visited me while I was in the hospital. Kathy and Justine caught me fondling my new $25,000 titanium hip AND the push button of my morphine dispenser. Together, they have showered me with love, they laugh at my jokes, and offer hugs on days when I'm maybe a little down on myself. They put my socks on for me after my shower. If THAT ain't love, i don't know what is.
I just visited my hip surgeon yesterday. He told me I was making remarkable progress, due in part to my work in the pool. He had so many encouraging words for my progress, although he did tell me that I still walked like a duck. Trust me, no amount of surgery will cure this affliction. My toes have NEVER pointed towards the North Star at the same time. My husband loves it when it snows. As the flakes fall, he sends me out to get the mail so he can make fun of my penguin imprints. Not very nice, huh???? But it does give me a reason why I have never been able to ski, ice skate or snowshoe. It's REALLY hard to make progress when you push off with your right foot and you go that-a-way, then follow with your left foot and go this-a-way. You just don't go anywhere in particular.
I owe a great deal to my Over The Hill Gang. I can thank them for giving me a reason why I actually like to exercise for the first time in my adult life. I can thank them for my swift hip surgery recovery. But most of all, I can thank them all for just being great people. With two hip replacements, 2008 wasn't the greatest of years. But this looks to be a whopping good 2009.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
My First Corny Blog
For those of you who don't know me, I'm Prairie Woman. I'm up very early in the morning. I'm a weather watcher, have been for about four years now. I'm a weather geek and thus am up at the crack of dawn. It has proven to be a decent combination.
Several friends of mine have suggested that I write interesting emails, that I'm a little bizarre, that I can make the mundane life of a retiree appear almost interesting. They suggested that perhaps I should blog. This is quite scary for me; I may putz a little bit in weather, but I have LOTS to learn about technology. What the hell is a blog???? I will be amazed if this thingy that I'm typing right now does indeed do what it's supposed to do.
I'm a retired band director. I taught instrumental music for a small rural school district for 34 years. The school literally sits on what used to be a cornfield. I think my band room used to be Burpee Sweet Treet To Eat Butter Sugar. The funny thing is that this corn thing seems to keep popping up (ha ha) in major areas of my life. My house also sits in the middle of an ex-cornfield on 35 acres of land. We're talking Boondocks Central.
The only house within a quarter mile of us is the Williams family. Their house sits across the road from us, kitty corner. And you guessed it, behind their home grows hundreds of acres of corn. I really don't know the neighbors very well at all. I really only know two things about them. From the phone book, I have learned their first names; and secondly, I know that they lose power as often as we do. Out here, this is a rather common occurrence. That's the only time when we talk on the phone. "Do YOU have power??..... OK, just checking!" An hour or so later, "Has your power come back yet?.... No, neither has mine. Can I borrow your generator?" Out here, we borrow generators the way other neighbors borrow sugar. They should put bigger wheels on the things for easier transport through our bumpy, rutted cornfield yard. Monster Truck Michelins would do nicely. Better yet, they should consider making them with self-propelling wheels, like on lawn mowers.
On a future blog, I will introduce more of myself and my fairly warped perspective of the world. I hope you've enjoyed meeting me as much as I've enjoyed typing my first blog.
Several friends of mine have suggested that I write interesting emails, that I'm a little bizarre, that I can make the mundane life of a retiree appear almost interesting. They suggested that perhaps I should blog. This is quite scary for me; I may putz a little bit in weather, but I have LOTS to learn about technology. What the hell is a blog???? I will be amazed if this thingy that I'm typing right now does indeed do what it's supposed to do.
I'm a retired band director. I taught instrumental music for a small rural school district for 34 years. The school literally sits on what used to be a cornfield. I think my band room used to be Burpee Sweet Treet To Eat Butter Sugar. The funny thing is that this corn thing seems to keep popping up (ha ha) in major areas of my life. My house also sits in the middle of an ex-cornfield on 35 acres of land. We're talking Boondocks Central.
The only house within a quarter mile of us is the Williams family. Their house sits across the road from us, kitty corner. And you guessed it, behind their home grows hundreds of acres of corn. I really don't know the neighbors very well at all. I really only know two things about them. From the phone book, I have learned their first names; and secondly, I know that they lose power as often as we do. Out here, this is a rather common occurrence. That's the only time when we talk on the phone. "Do YOU have power??..... OK, just checking!" An hour or so later, "Has your power come back yet?.... No, neither has mine. Can I borrow your generator?" Out here, we borrow generators the way other neighbors borrow sugar. They should put bigger wheels on the things for easier transport through our bumpy, rutted cornfield yard. Monster Truck Michelins would do nicely. Better yet, they should consider making them with self-propelling wheels, like on lawn mowers.
On a future blog, I will introduce more of myself and my fairly warped perspective of the world. I hope you've enjoyed meeting me as much as I've enjoyed typing my first blog.
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