Alive in rehab

Well, I made it through another knee surgery. Recently broke through all the pain pills and noticed where I am. Lovely place and unlike the last, I can smoke outside without a long line of nurses and techs chasing after me.

It’s on a 96-acre campus with all sorts of buildings varying in different lifestyles. There’s even an indoor pool.  And, there’s a pond nearby where I sit looking through my binoculars searching for gators. Still haven’t spotted one but there’s a sign posted warning people not to feed the alligators so I just might get lucky. This particular pond doesn’t have any fencing around it so I maintain a good distance from it. I can only go so fast in my wheelchair.

Physical therapy is minimal for me since I can’t bear any weight on my broken ankle or my temporary knee. Go figure, I have developed pneumonia and have been busted by the doctor on several occasions smoking. Today they’re putting a nicotine patch on me–like that’s going to work.

I’ve had two different but not so different roommates so far. Both old, old, ladies who can’t work their beds, the call button, the TV; fill out their menu, find therapy which is across the hall; work their wheelchairs, etc. And, they forget my instructions from moment to moment. The latest is driving me nuts. When questioned, so far she thinks the year is 1975, 2075, and 1275. Personally, I think she was around during the Norman invasion of England. I asked her if 1066 rings a bell and she said that’s when one of her sons was born. Swell.