The swelling is really not so bothersome as you'd think. What really aggravates is horrendous bruising that by all accounts seems to have come directly from the leg brace I was instructed to wear for 4 weeks. Or 3, or 2, or until I didn't feel like I needed it. Considering the worst of the bruising corresponded with the steel inserts of the brace, I ditched it in less than a week.
Pretty awesome, huh? Most of it is gone now. This was one week after surgery. Oh yeah, they almost postponed surgery because my blood pressure that morning was 80 over 50. I had to convince them that is normal, for me.
The vertigo isn't so bad as it was right before surgery. It is the worst when I lie down and close my eyes, or when I am in the shower and tilt my head back with my eyes closed. Then the room spins and I feel a bit tipsy. So far, so good, on not falling and shattering my tibia into bone splinters. My blood work doesn't show anything abnormal ... blood sugar is good, cholesterol numbers are great, estrogen is within normal range ...
The bad news is, my doctor also received findings from my surgeon, regarding the fluid in my knee, and of all things ridiculous and inconceivable, I have pseudogout. Basically, all my joints are going to go to hell, sooner or later. It isn't common in my age group; only about 6% of people in their 60's have it, and the percentage only increases to 25% for people in their 90's.
I don't like to feel sorry for myself, but the concept of [continuing] chronic joint pain does not excite me. I've learned to tolerate a great deal of it, especially over the past few months. The patello-femoral joint that was replaced had been bone-on-bone for some time, and basically shredded. How I was walking, much less riding horses, is beyond me. Must be my stubborn streak. I have no doubt THAT is genetic. I don't want to be needing a walker when I'm 40.
First, this doesn't mean I am pro-slaughter. I think owner education would go a long way toward reducing the number of healthy horses that go to slaughter every year, currently estimated at 100,000.
Recently, the 
I spent the first part of my day off work cleaning out horse stalls. A dreadful job any day of the week, but particularly foul when it is cold and wet, and stalls are flooded, and the scraping of the shovel against the rubber floor mats creates this brown sludge that cannot be defined. To make it even more pleasant, the stalls had not been fully stripped and cleaned in weeks, as we haven't shut the horses in the barn due to the unseasonably warm weather. That is, until Ma Nature dumped a few inches of rain on the existing deep mud, and topped it off with a solid half inch or better of ice.
Our family participates every year in 
Late in 2002, we got the news that my sister Charlotte had a tumor. Almost miraculously, she seemed to make a full cancer-free recovery after surgery in early 2003. It was a year of celebration at Relay, and Kevin was a crowd favorite, walking 400 laps (that's 100 miles!) during the 24 hour event. (He had walked 300 laps in 2002, and 200 laps in 2001). Another crowd favorite was my nephew Logan, who won the Ms. Relay beauty pageant, where men dress up in lovely gowns and wigs and the crowd "votes" for their favorite with cash donations to ACS. It was a great event, with a lot of good memories.
But Charlotte's cancer returned that fall with a vengance, and we lost her December 1, 2003. I can no longer hear or even read the "c-word" without physical pain and tears. The hardest part to face: my children experienced their first loss of someone dear to them, and cancer became very real and very horrible to them, just like it did to me when my "Poopa" died in 1981. It was no longer something that happens to other people. It was personal.
Relay 2004 was very hard. I don't think I could have made it through without my kids. They were on the committee with me, and as very active members of the "Family Tree Frogs" team, they really kept us all going with their determination and enthusiasm to raise funds and keep spirits high.
Our team's theme was "Cancer Demolition" in 2005. My children were co-captains together, along with Charlotte's youngest son. They are truly amazing kids, with huge hearts and a new compassion for all who have lost someone close. That sweet little girl could sell sand to a desert camel; to have her in charge of a donation table isn't hardly fair to passersby.
My only son betrayed his family and joined his school's Relay For Life team in 2006, walking 200 laps for them and instigating a 
I'll be glad to assimilate you, too. Just 
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