Hip Replacement

I attended a two-and-a-half hour class on joint replacement Tuesday. One of the many things I learned about is a thing called a "hip kit," which consists of a "reacher," a long shoehorn, a half-cylinder device for helping you get your socks on, and a long-handled scrub sponge (so you can wash your lower legs and feet). 
Hip Kit:

This was interesting to me, because my daughter sent me a link to something like this just the other day, since I haven't been able to reach my left foot in almost a year. 
When you have a hip replacement, you are not supposed to bend at the waist any sharper than 90°.  Like, you can sit up straight, but don't lean forward (this will be a challenge). Or, you can bend over enough to touch your knees, but not any lower. Hopefully that is only while you're healing from surgery, and not forever. I didn't think to ask during class, but will certainly ask the doctor.  Anyway, the PT guy came in and was talking about, and demonstrating some of the assistive devices they intend to send home with us. I thought the sock-putter-onner and the long shoehorn were awesome (especially since my daughter sent me a link to such devices just the other day). 
"But," I asked, "how are we supposed to fasten our shoes, once we get them on?"
Easy - Elastic shoelaces! 

So you install the elastic shoelaces in your shoes, and then you use the sock-putter-onner to put on your socks, and then you use the reacher to grasp the tongue of your shoe, slip your socked foot into the shoe, and then use the shoehorn to seat your foot securely in your shoe. Do the operated leg first, then the unoperated leg. Then, when you're ready to take your socks and shoes off, the reacher can help you do that, too. Somebody was having a good day when they thought those things up!

I will be SOOOOOO happy to be able to wear socks again. And my gym shoes, too.

Poor Little Annie

Annie has been favoring her right foreleg, and limping, so I took her to the vet.

 She has some sort of injury, including an abrasion to the pad of her paw, upon which she walks. The vet (trimmed her toenails and) bandaged up Annie's paw. When they came back into the exam room where I was waiting, the first thing Annie did was try to figure out how to get the door open so she could escape. They design those places pretty well, so that she was unable to escape, so she "hid" under the chairs instead, where I snapped the photo showing her cute little pink bandage.
They sent up home with pills and The CONE. The vet tech called it "The Cone of Healing," (although the rest of the world knows it as "The Cone of Shame.") The instructions were to keep the bandage on for three days, and the cone for seven days. I took the second picture of Annie wearing the cone. Poor thing, she was so miserable! 

After a couple hours, I took pity on her. I called her over to me and explained that the reason she was wearing this was so that she would leave her foot bandage alone. I said I'd take it off, but she has to NOT lick or chew on that foot bandage. "Do you understand?" I asked her. Then I removed the cone.

She is pretty good about, if I tell her to stop doing something, she does. So I went about my business, keeping one eye on her. When she started for the bandage, I said, "Hey. You have to leave that alone, or I'll have to put the hat back on you," picking up the "hat" (cone) to show her. 

She has done an amazing job of leaving her bandage alone, good doggy.

Grandma Susie

When Daddy was in medical school we moved to a little house, much like the one I live in now. The address was 1853 Corrine Drive  (pronounced core-REEN). It was about a block or so off N. Eastern (now MLK Drive). It was a little bit north of Springlake Amusement Park, which cost a dime to get in back then. That’s where we lived when Kathryn Ann was born. I remember the grown-ups talking about the house having “Central Heat” which meant that it had a wall heater in the hallway instead of a floor furnace in the living room. That was fairly central, all right, but it sure did get cold in my room at night during the winter. I don’t remember complaining about it, but Grandma Susie knew, somehow, the way she always did, and I think it was for Christmas that year (or maybe my birthday) she got me the prettiest pink ELECTRIC BLANKET. OMG, I remember how much I loved that blanket, and loved being warm, and loved Grandma Susie for thinking of it. I think I asked her one time, “How did you know?” She just did. Maybe she’d been cold in bed before, herself. Grandma Susie.