I gave the new rod in my leg a workout today!
I had a doctor's appointment for a leg check in the morning. I also had a mammogram (oh, yay...) in the afternoon. Husband said, well, we are going to be in town, what else do we have to do?
We ended up going to the post office, (fortunately he did that, or I would have had to stand in line for about 20 minutes, right off the bat), Christmas shopping at about 3 stores, a quick trip to the grocery store, a lunch out, (this was Husband's idea, and he treated me to a really nice lunch. I think he's a keeper... grin), and then after all the appointments, Husband received a phone call from a friend of his about a machine that wasn't working right. Husband went over and gave him some pointers, and then we went home.
As happy as I am that my leg is on the mend, I am TIRED.
(Fair warning, the next couple paragraphs are somewhat medically graphic.)
Poor Husband. I am reading a book, "The Horse and Buggy Doctor" by Arthur E. Hertzler, and it talks about the quality of health care when he was a child in the late 1800's. (He was a doctor in the 20's and 30's.) One thing that (big surprise) got my attention was the fact that a broken leg wasn't cast. It was amputated. In fact, a good surgeon was one that could remove a leg in less than 40 seconds. They also mentioned the fact doctors were wont to put silk threaded needles into collars, so they would be ready as they needed them for stitching wounds, and it was unusual for a doctor to remove his coat between patients (or wash hands), and it was even mentioned that doctors would hold a knife in the teeth if they needed both hands for stitching.
Weeellll, I was talking to my doctor about this, and he lit up, and was commenting about the fact that I would have had about a 20 percent chance of survival in that time period, and that sepsis was rampant during that period even in 'clean' areas, because of the sanitation and just plain gangrene. I was really enjoying the discussion, (doctor was actually checking my leg, we weren't just jawboning...), when I happened to glance over at my poor Husband. He was positively GREEN. I decided that as much as I would have liked to find out more about the subject, a barfing Husband might not be the best choice. Poor man, he normally can tolerate a lot, but when it relates to me directly, he gets all protective, and a bit on the soft and mushy side.
So, if you happen to go to the doctor, and start a conversation, you might give a quick check to the person who drove you there, if it wasn't you. Having them ready to horf up breakfast might not be the best repayment...