replacing a knee (lyn)

About three years ago, my dad, who is 87, pulled a groin muscle playing tennis.  Until his injury, he golfed, played tennis three times a week, fixed anything that needed fixing, and made coveted birdhouses (that some lucky neighbors and good friends received as gifts).  But it seemed that following the groin injury, other health issues cropped up.  His right knee started bothering him, and his red blood cell count fell.  In a short amount of time, my father (who never complains and who has never had an operation) became inactive and in constant pain.  For the past year, he has pretty much been living his life from a living room chair in front of the TV.

My 81-year old mom, who walks three miles, five days a week (regardless of weather), has also had her life compromised.  Her once active partner is dependent on her, and she is now the one who does everything (caring for my dad, tending to Ellie, their cat, and managing the house).  I think my father has fallen in love all over again, as he can often be heard saying, “Your mother.  Isn’t she amazing?,” as his eyes fill with tears.

Despite recommendations from everyone, my dad has resisted getting surgery on his right knee.  But in the past few months, the pain has gotten to the point where he cannot walk at all.  Once a robust eater, he has lost all interest in food.  His big fear is infection.  And at his age, his concern is legitimate.  But by December, my father finally decides that he is ready.  He will have his right knee replaced.  Everyone is thrilled. 

Today is my dad’s surgery.  I speak to him and he sounds great.  Then I talk to my mom.  For a woman who is in a constant state of worry over weather, bridge-traffic, and arriving somewhere late, she is remarkably calm.

By late afternoon, my dad is out of surgery, on a morphine drip, and doing great.  The hard part for him will be the rehab.  But every day he’ll get stronger, and closer to getting back his life.  He’ll probably even think, “What took me so long to decide?” 

When Alexander was in 10^th grade, he returned from a summer trip to Chile and consciously decided to focus more on his studies and less on making the class laugh at his jokes.  He went from a 3.1 GPA to a 3.7.  And he was clear, “Your nagging had nothing to do with it.  I had to be the one making the decision.”

When my mother, in the summer of 2009, told me that I had gotten so heavy that her friend didn’t even recognize me, I just got angry.  Like my dad and my son, deciding to lose weight was a choice I had to want.  Others telling me was not incentive enough.

I am happy my dad had the surgery, and I am grateful that it appears to have gone so well.  It was his decision alone to make, and everyone is so glad he made it.