This Post Took Two Days to Write as I Drifted In and Out of Consciousness. Enjoy.

"You are a bad driver!"

It's just one of the uncharacteristicly not nice things I said to my poor, doting husband in my drugged stupor on our drive home from surgery.

I was layed out in the back seat of his car, wickedly loopy.  Apparently, I get chatty when I'm wickedly loopy.

I also told him that "I love pudding.  CHOCOLATE pudding!"  I'm told that Bryan then said something about Bill Cosby.  I replied, "I think I know who that is."

As Bryan drove, I would moan and groan every couple of minutes.  He asked if the bumps hurt my knee.  "No!  Every time you hit a bump, my head bounces off then back on the window!  My head hurts!"

Quickly followed by...

"Oh!  Bill Cosby is a comedian!"

I guess some things don't change when I'm drugged.

I wasn't allowed to eat any solid foods for 24 hours, so when Bryan went into the pharmacy to get my meds, he looked for some chocolate pudding for me.  I was left in the back of the car.

By myself.

For hours.

I think.

I remember alternating between sleeping and wondering what in the world was taking him so long.

Out loud.

I vaguely remember looking out the window he had partially rolled down for me (not all the way, seeing as how my head was leaning back on it.) and calling out, "What is taking so long??"

Then sleeping.

Then calling out again, "Where are you??"

Then sleeping again.

I can only imagine what the customers going in and out of the store were thinking about the situation.  (One of my clues that he was in there a long time...other customers were going in and out.)

Finally, finally, we were on our way again and made it all the way home.

The kids came out to greet me, not because they missed me, but they were eager to see what sort of hilarious stupor I was in.

I did not disappoint.

It took me 15 minutes to get to the front porch from the car using my crutches.  I was convinced that I was going to fall.  At one point I quoted one of the dolls Buttercup used to own.  It was a doll that could stand up, but at one point would lose its balance and yell, "Woooaahh!  Catch me, Mommy!"

As I thought I was falling, I hollered, "Wooaah!  Catch me, Mommy!" and panicked, letting go of the crutches and grabbing hold of Phoenix, practically taking us both down.

So it felt like.

Apparently, Bryan had a death grip on me from behind and I never lost my balance at all.

As I came to the front door, Bryan warned me of the little bump going into the house.  He said, "Watch out for the threshold."

I stopped, completely confused.

"That's called a threshold?"

After I cleared that hurdle, I had to stop and scratch my nose.

According to the children, I said, "This anesthesia is making my nose itch.  Or giving me boogers," as I scratched and rubbed my nose to death.

Since arriving home, I haven't left the couch except to go to the bathroom.

I drift in and out of sleep with astonishing speed.

To illustrate, a photo Bryan couldn't resist taking...

I was eating my first cup of much-anticipated pudding...

when I passed out cold.

I woke up sometime later, still holding the pudding and the spoon, to finish eating as if nothing odd had happened.

I've been icing my knee.

And doing the exercises as best I can.

The first time I went to the bathroom unaided, I fell.

Thankfully, I had chosen to get "the block" before I left OrthoIndy.  (Chosen in this case used very loosely.  I couldn't focus on much of anything at the time, and was pretty much led to the decision by Bryan and the anesthesiologist.)

They were the two worst shots I have ever had in my life, but they meant my leg was completely numb for 24 hours.

I fell hard enough to bend the metal bars in my brace, but I never felt a thing.

Even my pride wasn't hurt too bad, seeing as how I had managed to get my pants back up before I fell.

I was allowed to take the dressing off yesterday.

Wanna see?

If not, scroll by real fast.

I wrote that "yes" on my leg before surgery.

They gave me the marker and told me to.

The rest was all them.

Once I was mostly coherent at home, Bryan recounted the conversation I had supposedly had with the doctor.  I supposedly at graham crackers, too.

I remember none of it.

The one meniscus tear wasn't repaired.  He just cut off a flap of tissue.

The other meniscus tear was sutured back together.

The ACL was a torn-up mess.  He had a lot of cleaning up to do before he fixed it.

And guess how he fixed it.

With donor tissue.

I'm still too groggy to really think that through, but I'm awake enough to be blown away by the information.

I'll be writing a thank you to the family once I'm less medicated.

Alrighty.

I think I've said all I need to say at this point.

I know many of you have been praying for me and wondering how the surgery went.

Thank you.  It is amazing how calming it was to know people were praying for me.

I'm going back to sleep now.

Have a lovely day!