Just a Kitchen

I've got some great advice to share.  Don't go house hunting when you're all drugged up on painkillers.  Not a good idea.  Or then again...maybe it is.

As I have mentioned before, I was desperate to get into a real home, with a yard and more room.  So, a house hunting we went.  We had looked at several (ok more than several) open houses and then met a realtor that we clicked with.  He then began looking seriously on our behalf for our future home.

Just a mere 2 weeks post surgery, and in a very drug-induced state, I fell in love with a cute little single story house.  All it needed was a new kitchen!  I could do that.  I had done it before.  And it was such a cute little house, a small cozy quaint little place.  It fit all my requirements--while on drugs!

I looked up at my husband, hand on my Hawaiian print cane, and batted my eyes.  Would you please buy me this house?  What's a guy to do?  He bought me the house.  We hadn't even sold our condo yet and we now owned a little fixer-upper.  It just needed a kitchen though, right?

So, a couple of days before closing, as all buyers do, we did our walkthrough.  I kinda wish we hadn't.  The house was empty.  I noticed right away that the walls were ugly and dingy, the carpets were dirty and the bathrooms appalling.  What in the world did I get myself into?  I felt like crying.  The house was so much worse than I had ever anticipated and needed work in every single room.  New paint, flooring, kitchen, bathrooms, everything!  And, it was so much smaller than I had remembered.  Also, I haven't mentioned the yard yet.  Ugg.  Front and back, just ugg.  I thought they were much more manicured.  Nope, overgrown doesn't begin to describe that piece of property.  I felt so completely overwhelmed and wondered--just what kind of meds did that doctor give me?

And then came moving day.  We met the movers at our new home, and as they unloaded box after box, I walked the house making lists of all that I needed to do--and thought about how much money I was going to pour into this sad little place.  I am always careful not to overbuild for the neighborhood, so I am frugal in that area--not any other areas mind you, just that one.  So, box by box, and chair by chair, the truck was finally unloaded.

Then the rains began.  It rained and rained and rained, and our new basement flooded and flooded and flooded.  There we were, standing 4 inches deep in water, unpacking box after box and praying that there was nothing of any value being ruined, namely pictures.  I began to cry, which made my husband feel horrible.  What a mess, and it was all because of me!  I made us buy this little ugly house, with a flooded basement, and an icky backyard.  Let's just say, I wasn't having fun.  We quickly unpacked those sopping wet boxes, looking over our treasures, making sure that nothing of any importance was ruined and finally called it a night.  We were exhausted.

As the rains subsided and we began to get some furniture into place, the little house began to take on some character.  Over the next few weeks, it slowly began to grown on us.  We tore out shrubs and cabinets.  We hung pictures and bought new furniture.  We made plans for the bathrooms and backyard.  Things were looking up.

It's hard to move.  It's stressful and fun all at the same time.  Fun and exhausting.  Exhausting and exciting.  I wondered--was this God's plan?  Did I hear Him right?  Or was it the drugs talking?  I seriously did not know!

It's been a few weeks now.  We've settled in.  It's looking better in some rooms and worse in others.  We don't have a kitchen yet, but it's coming.  Cabinets are being delivered today and installed later this week. Floors next Monday and counters a couple of weeks later.  Every room still needs to be painted.  And we are waiting for the vanities to arrive for the bathrooms.  We then will begin painting.  We are true do-it-yourselfers.  Well, sometimes we are, it depends.  On my husband.  You know--on what kind of mood he's in.  Hire someone, or do it myself--these are questions only he can answer.

We are both in love with the neighborhood, the little town and yes, even our new home.  It's beginning to take form.  It's beginning to be ours.  We going to take it slow, ok slower, as we renovate. First the kitchen, then the bathrooms, then the painting, then the years of maintaining all this...and we know that this will go on for the next 20 years.  And I''m ok with that.  Yes, it's true, I only thought it needed a kitchen, however, I was mistaken.  And isn't that kind of how life truly is?  We think it's one thing and then low and behold--gotcha!  It's that and a whole lot more!

We'll make this new home our little place--Grandma's cottage.  We'll love it.  It's the last stop in life for us.  Our little retirement cottage.  So we better make it the best yet!

Post Op--4 months

Good news!  It's over!  It has now been 4 months since my knee replacement surgery.  And, as I've mentioned before, those first few weeks were horrific.  They were worse than I ever could have imagined.  I've gone through childbirth, one natural, 2 cesarean sections, and several other surgeries, however, nothing prepared me for this.  The pain, the swelling, the crying, the pills.  I just didn't know what to expect.  Now I do.  I can advise, I can help, I can caution others. I am an expert.

The first month is bad, really bad.  The 2nd month is a tiny bit better, and so on.  Now, as I am 4 months post op, I am doing so much better.  I can walk without a limp.  And that's kind of a big deal.  I actually had to train myself not to limp.  It seems it was a learned behavior.  That after all my years of painful walking, I had developed a true limp.  Then after the knee replacement, and after the pain had subsided, I had to actually practice not limping.  Sounds easy enough, but it's harder than you think.

I do still have bad days--some swelling, and pain.  But, Tylenol and an anti-inflammatory seem to do the trick.  I try to remember on days that I'm going to be walking a lot to be proactive and take those meds.  I haven't had to take a "big dog pill" in several weeks now.  I am so proud of myself!

I am walking well, getting in my 10,000 or more steps daily and am looking forward to (ok, not really) getting back on my bike.  I have a lot of fear concerning bike riding.  Although I rode the exercise bike during physical therapy, I have yet to get on a real bike.  That's coming soon though.

One thing I would highly advise is physical therapy.  Go.  Go no matter what.  If it's the only thing you do, go!  I had therapy for 3 1/2 months.  I do believe that is why I am progressing so well.  More than anything you want that range of motion back in your knee.  I worked long and hard for mine, and I finally got it.  121, pretty darn good!

I've been asked several times if I'm glad I did it.  Hmmmm, I guess so.  I mean, I couldn't really walk towards the end.  I couldn't walk my dog around the block.  I couldn't even walk through the mall.  You know it's bad when I can't shop!  So, am I glad I did it?  Yes, I am glad.  I can shop, I mean walk again.  I am getting around better than ever, and I do know now, from experience that it will only get better. Each week is so much better than the last.

We had planned a trip to Europe this Fall, however, we've postponed the trip until Spring.  I need just a few more months to recuperate, and then there will be no holding me back.  I will be walking and shopping with the best of them!

In the meantime, I am unpacking, and having fun with our new home.  That's another blog though.  Wait until you hear about that!