It’s me again, the Guy that likes Mondays (now) (suddenly) (and forever more)

Here is a random photo of twin brothers stuck inside a whale on the beach in New Zealand, fishing for a vertabrae to keep as a trophy. They took out L13, apparently. Photo credit: Christopher Kelsall


Maybe I am a little over ambitious about Mondays. Generally-speaking if you love your job or school or things you do, you will like it when Monday comes around again. So we don’t hate Mondays, we hate that job or class or thing that we have to start again on Monday. It takes away from our fun.

Today is Wednesday and I sigh a small sigh of relief. See I was progressing by the nano-second, as it were, and went down to one crutch by day eight, post-surgery. Too soon. Thought I felt a stress reaction or stress fracture or something like that. Back to both crutches. Things are calming down now.

Anyone else have this?

So maybe I confused the potential stress-thing with an irritated I.T. Band. See the band is a tendon that runs from the top of the hip saddle, down the outside of the leg and attaches to the outside of the knee. It is there for lateral stability and to irritate the hell out of you  when it wants (dual purpose tendon).

If we run a lot, as many of you well know, it can get tight and rub on the nodule on the outside of the knee. For non-runners and new runners we think, ALAS! running henceforth is terribly bad stuff for the knee. But as we veteran runners know, it is the band, tuned like a guitar string, too tight, rubbing on the frets. We just need to turn the tuning peg back by massaging and kneeding the baskard (word altered for sensitivity to those who didn’t grow up with a father).

But I fret not now, for perhaps it was indeed the I.T. Band and some of the pain radiated around? Anyone have that, early days post-op? Please say yes.

Anyway, things  are both hunky and dory.

Doin’ stuff.

Hangin’ out.

Off the drugs.

Man that Dilaudid is bad stuff. Six times stronger than morphine, I had dreams of clown monsters and scenarios that surely couldn’t happen, like swimming in a river of warm and delicious Crown Royal whiskey with the cap for a float and big straw. I mean it was good and everything, but that’s a lot of whiskey gone to the ocean. Maybe it was a metaphor. Drink all of your whiskey!

Anyway, let me know if you have had a scare with the I.T. Band. Thanks.

BTW, I would take a picture of my scar, but it is not half as sexy as that one posted recently. Mine resembles a rattle snake that got shot repeatedly with a staple gun.

Hip was replaced Friday. Monday off pain meds. Suddenly I love Mondays.

Hello, fellow skeleton crew:

My name is Christopher Kelsall, I am writing in from gorgeous Victoria, BC, which is located on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. Or as we like to pretend, the Independent Democracy of Vancouver Island.

I went in for a total hip replacement (right) on Freaky Friday and was upright Friday night, walking Saturday morning, walking fast and more furiously Sunday and then Monday – despite what the Boomtown Rats sang (“I hate Mondays”) – I suddenly like Mondays, because I had no pain killers for over eight hours and trekked from the warmth of my hospital bed to the warshroom (say it with an English accent, will you?) and back and felt like I didn’t need any more painkillers. But the Registered Nurse was kind enough to say, “take them anyway, and ween yourself off of them slowly.”

So I am.

Ceramic with highly cross-linked polyethylene is as slick as ice and smooth as glass. When I go through the schwinggggg faze of my gait, it feels almost too smooth. I am used to grinding and pain and lack of rotation. So odd.

I am home now, feet up, wife is my servant. Living like a king. I just have to remind myself that I cannot bend over or twist or start running suddenly.

I am 5o under the hood, but the computer in the bonnet suggests 20. Ready to do handstands.

I had a fun time getting the spinal epidural. Unlike other surgeries, where they throw a mask on you and ask you to count to 10 and you get to 6…..I was looking around, hugging a pillow and announcing when the needle was disturbing a nerve in my buttocks and hamstring.

Then suddenly, it was like I had peed myself in a wet suit and I was getting warm all over. The warmth crawled up my legs like as if I was maybe filling up with warm pee? Really cool. Sorta.

That was easy.

When I make any sort of progress, which I have been doing by the nano-second so far, I will follow up with another post.