Update From Jaq

"What ever doesn't kill me makes me stronger." ~ Nietzsche

This is the first time since surgery that I have had the energy to go online. My days are hemmed in by exersices every two hours and walking the length of the boat repeatedly. I grab snippets of sleep when I can. I spend a lot of time thinking about my sister Susan, who had both knees replaced at one go. She is my hero.

 Nights are hardest because there is simply no position that is comfortable for more than mere minutes. It is also the time, other than when doing exersices, that pain strikes. Each day brings improvements. I don't wet myself now trying to get my legs under me and move at a snail's pace to the toilet before my drug addled bladder gives way. I have learned to pace myself, and my left leg has taken on an independent life of its own--as though it is an individual with its own agenda. I catch myself asking, "What does the leg want now?" Ah yes it wants some of those deep bending exersices to loosen the stiffness; it wants to stretch out straight, etc. etc.

The Eskimoes have over 150 words to describe snow and ice. It has occurred to me that there are at least that many words for the different type and dagree of pain. There is the sharp-deep stabbing pain that takes my breath away. There is bone deep pain, solid as granite, that makes me grunt. There is the pain that comes with repetitive exersices that settles into my gut like a fist and makes me nauseous. There is the short, hot prickling pains as nerves remember themselves and fire up again. There is another pinching pain amongst the staples enclosing my incision. There is a weird flowing pain that moves around the ends of my femur and tibia, like some skulking thing looking for a place to settle.

Through it all Les is my shining star. He is patient and kind. Les can lay his large, rough man-hands, hot with life pulsing energy on my leg and the pain dissapears. His love for me is a HUGE blanket in which he has wrapped me snug and safe. The job of caretaker is exhausting, and while Les says I am easy to look after, it is all the other daily activities combined with caring for me that knacker him out: cooking, cleaning, laundry, bringing in coal, etc.  etc. I am not used to sitting still and doing nothing. It is maddening, and it feels odd to be on the other end of this stick.

Friday morning it was time to go for water. We also needed to buy more coal. Les took the boat up through both Cape Locks single handed, filled the water tank, put on a load of laundry, fixed lunch, then we cruised into the Saltisford Arm to get coal. After he loaded ten bags of coal on the roof with Ian's help (Ian manages the daily operations of the Saltisford Arm Trust) Les took us back down both Locks and moored up to walk in to a nearby chemists and get my pain med refills.

Back he came, livid with anger as they could not find the prescription, and all the chemists were at lunch. Away he went again at 2 pm and the problem was that while the bright young thing at the doctor's surgery assured me it would be easy to have the prescription sent to the chemist electronically, and the doctor I spoke to over the phone assured me of the same, my prescription was for morphine--a controlled substance which cannot be sent electronically. Bless the chemist's heart; she drove down to the doctor's surgery and picked up the prescription in person and called Les when it was filled. Les walked back in a third time and came back with drugs in hand. We had been going since 9 am and it was 330 now. Time to shove off and cruise down to the Tesco moorings, which took about forty minutes.

 I had drawn up a grocery list, such was the extent of my capability for the day. Les went off with the trolley and came back an hour later with food. Then he went back out and took a jerry can on the trolley over to the Tesco petrol station, filled it up, and schlumped it back to the boat to top up our diesel. Back inside, Les worked while I directed his efforts and we finally sat down to a mouthwatering dinner of ciabatta pizzas. Les adjusted the aerial and we sat together watching telly while the forecast driving wind and rain lashed outside NBV. Those who live aboard know one has to move when a weather window of opportunity allows in the winter. We spent two nights there and took the chance of a break in the storm fronts off the Atlantic to cruise to the winding hole near Aldis while washing a couple loads of clothes, and settle back on the hospital moorings again yesterday. Les had just got us moored up and the TV aerial in place, the coal bucket filled, and two bags of wood tucked near the stove to dry when the sun disappeared, and winds and rain returned with a vengeance.

Today Les is off down south, three trains, to a family funeral in Watford. I am on my own, snug and warm with all my needs thoughtfully addressed before my Best Beloved went out the door into the dirty weather at 8:10 this morning. He won't return until late tonight, but Les made a delicious pot of stew yesterday which will warm him up this evening. I am waiting for the physiotherapist to come and take me through me exersices.
Thank you everyone for your good wishes, loving kindness, help, prayers, positive thoughts and healing energy sent our way. It is all working!! P.S. Physiotherapist just left after telling me I am a star patient and my progress is brilliant! Woot!