Unstapled

I took Mrs. Monty in to the hospital today to have her surgical staples removed. She was a trouper as she alway is. It clearly stung her when they were pulled out, but aside from a scrunched up face and maybe a slight “oomph” it was a quick and undramatic affair. After it was all over, they said come back in after a month for a check. Possibly the final one, they said. We are in the home stretch.

Mrs. Monty’s goal is to be able to walk comfortably again. She doesn’t care so much if there is a scar or slight limp. She accepts these potential fates. She is especially excited about the prospect of riding a bicycle again. Her eyes light up like a little girl when she talks about it.

What a journey this has been. The initial accident during the Covid lockdown and all the craziness of trying to get her to the hospital that night when she was in excruciating pain is burned into my memory as clearly as the scars on her leg. We spent almost an entire month in the hospital – locked-in. Unable to leave to get a change of clothes or my work computer, I slept on a sofa watching my wife maxing out the morphine drip in tears as even that couldn’t numb her pain.

This time, when she had the surgery to remove the three metal brackets and fifteen screws from her previously shattered ankle, she didn’t press the morphine drip button once. I only slept two nights on the sofa and was able to go out anytime I wanted. And Mrs. Monty didn’t even take a single dose of the pain meds that came home with us. She said that after the pain of the initial accident and surgery, this was nothing. She wasn’t being a hero, she literally said that there was some discomfort, but no real pain. Wow, what a difference a year makes.

She has three more days of wound care, then the bandages come off and she can shower normally again. One more month before they take an x-ray to check the bone’s status. Then what? After over a year of recovery, what’s next? If I had to guess, I think we might just take a bicycle ride around the neighborhood to celebrate. I can already almost see her smiling and hear her giggling while she peddles around like a little girl on her first bicycle. I’m looking forward to that day.

Be well,

Monty