Three Good Reasons Why My Knee Doctor is Making Me Cranky

Mostly True Memoirs

Yeah, I'm Cranky

Yeah, I’m Cranky.

I’m down to only one working knee.

I saw the orthopedist.

And I have a few objections.

My first complaint is that there was an awful lot of walking in this office.

I had to walk down a very long hallway to the x-ray room.

Then I had another long walk to get to the examination room.

After that, I had to walk all the way across the building to schedule an MRI.

Finally, I had to walk back across the entire suite to check out.

At the Urgent Care, back on that first day, they saw me hobbling in the parking lot.

They hustled out with a folding chair and told me to sit down and wait because someone else was coming with a wheelchair.

Now that’s good service.

You’d think an orthopedic office would have wheelchairs.

My second complaint is that examination table was real artsy-fartsy.

Which means it wasn’t practical at all.

Most examination tables can raise and lower, and many have pull-out steps.

This one did not.

It was huge, and I couldn’t even try to climb up on it with only one working leg.

The doctor was fine with examining my knee from the chair that I was in.

The technician who came in to fit me for the brace wanted me on the table.

Ha, ha, no way, that’s not going to happen.

The tech wasn’t happy.

But seriously?

Shouldn’t an orthopedic office be prepared for orthopedic injuries?

My final complaint is their phone service.

I received three different calls before my appointment.

None of them identified the medical group.

One of them said, “No caller ID,” and the others simply listed a number.

I never answer calls like that.

It’s probably a scammer.

A lot of time was wasted playing phone tag.

OK, that’s enough cranky ranting.

I liked the doctor.

The brace is amazing, and I can walk with it, and I’m feeling a lot better.

My MRI is scheduled.

I hope I don’t need surgery.

I would prefer to skip that and go straight to physical therapy.

I get a say in this, don’t I?

That’s how it works, right?



These Stupid Crutches Are Going To Be The Death Of Me!

Mostly True Memoirs

These Stupid Crutches

These Stupid Crutches!

These stupid crutches have changed my entire routine.

Everything is now an enormous pain in the butt.

I’ve started holing up in my home office with some snacks so that I don’t have to leave the room all day.

There’s a bathroom next door, so my need to lurch around the house on crutches is limited.

Today, however, I was home alone.

And I kept hearing weird noises.

The dog was going in and out of the doggy door.

Again and again and again.

What the heck was she up to?

I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

I crutched my way to the other end of the house.

Blue was nowhere in sight.

There were no signs of doggy destruction.

I called to her, but she didn’t come.

She was probably destroying something around the side of the house.

There was nothing I could do.

I peg-legged myself back to my office.

Again, I heard the doggy door flapping.

“Oh for **** sake!” I muttered and hobbled back to the other end of the house.

Again, Blue was nowhere to be found.

Unwilling to make the perilous journey all the way across the house yet again, I plopped myself into a chair to wait for her to make that noise again.

And then I heard it.

Oh no!

It wasn’t the doggy door after all.

I had accidentally shut her in the bedroom.

Blue had been scratching on the door.

She was so excited when I freed her that I had to hold onto the door frame for dear life.

Poor girl.

Poor me.

She was about to knock me right off my only good leg.

I had to stomp my crutches to get her to calm down.

She doesn’t like those things.

To be fair, neither do I.

I hop-stepped over to the couch to cuddle an apology to her.

But she was still very excited, and I was afraid that she was going to jump on my bad knee.

I had to stomp the crutches again.

But all’s well that ends well.

She spent the rest of the day napping on the rug in my office.

Blue and I will both be glad to be done with these stupid crutches.


I Am a Tidy Freak. I’m Freaking Out About Tidiness Right Now.

Mostly True Memoirs

A Tidy Freak

I’m a Tidy Freak.

I am a tidy freak, I have realized, since I have been confined to crutches.

Not a neat freak.

A tidy freak.

Back in the day, before I had kids, I was a downright slob.

I quickly learned to rein that in.

I’ve taken to constantly tidying up.

It’s because I’m basically lazy.

It is a far easier thing to keep the house tidy than to actually clean it.

I’m sitting here with my flat-tire knee elevated, noticing all the dust and clutter that has started to accumulate.

My brain is about to explode.

My knee has already exploded.

My hands aren’t doing so well either.

I have carpal tunnel, and the crutches are killing my wrists.

I will be very, very, very glad when this is all over.

But enough whining.

I need to plan my get-well party.

The first thing I’ll do is to tidy my house.

And then – celebrate!


How To Turn a Disaster Into A Magnificent Story

Mostly True Memoirs

How to turn a disaster into a magnificent story

I Wrecked My Knee, and I’m In Need Of A Magnificent Story

A magnificent story is necessary at a time like this.

I wrecked my knee.


On my vacation.

I’m trying out all kinds of stories to see which one resonates.

The one that gets the best reaction is this:

Bob gave me a brake check.

I was on the back of his motorcycle.

He was going really, really, really fast.

Suddenly, he hit the brakes.

I flew off the back of the bike.

And destroyed my knee.

“Really?” people gasp, shocked that Bob would do such a thing.

“No,” I respond, “none of it is true.”

The brake-check story is far more entertaining than the truth.

The truth is just a standard, boring, slip and fall injury.

I’ve always felt that any major injury deserves a magnificent story.

My left knee deserves that great story.

Even if it does throw poor Bob under the bus.

Or the motorcycle.


The bottom line is that I wrecked my knee.

And I’m in need of a magnificent story.


It’s Her Happy Heavenly Birthday Today – Miss You Mom!

Mostly True Memoirs

Happy Heavenly Birthday to my Mama!

Happy Heavenly Birthday!

Today is my mom’s heavenly birthday.

It also happens to be National Awkward Moments Day.

She would not have appreciated that.

It’s a good thing we never knew this holiday existed.

Her birthday dinners might have been, well, awkward.

Luckily, it is also National Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day.

That’s a holiday she would have liked.

I’m making chicken tetrazzini for dinner, which I do every year for her birthday.

Maybe I will make some lacy oatmeal cookies too.

She would like that.

Happy birthday, heavenly Mom.


I Have Only One Question

Mostly True Memoirs

I have only one question.

I have only one question. Why didn’t the dog bark?

I have only one question about this entire episode.

The other night, the Grown Son’s car broke down.

Bob and the other Grown Son set out on a rescue mission.

They had everything under control.

I went to bed.

I had developed, over the evening, a sore throat.

I took a dose of Nyquil and went to sleep, hoping to wake up well and refreshed.

But that’s not what happened.

I’m not sure what finally woke me up.

But my phone was ringing, and there were dozens and dozens and dozens of calls and texts.

The guys had been trying to reach me, but I was zonked out on cold medicine.

They didn’t know that.

They were freaked that I wasn’t answering the phone.

Bob called the neighbor to come and ring the doorbell.

I still didn’t wake up.

Bob gave the neighbor the keypad code to come in through the garage.

“Seriously?” I asked Bob, “He was in the house? That’s how people get shot!”

Which is exactly what the neighbor was thinking.

He was hollering at me from the garage door, and when he finally heard me on the phone, he got the heck out of the house.

Oops, sorry.

I didn’t mean to scare anyone.

Next time I take Nyquil I’ll post an alert.

I have only one question.

Why didn’t the dog bark at the intruder?


It Makes No Sense But She’s The Best Dog Ever

Mostly True Memoirs

It makes no sense but she's the best dog ever

It Makes No Sense, But She’s The Best Dog Ever

Blue has been with us for several months now.

She’s such a good girl.

We have decided that she is the Best Dog Ever.

It makes no sense.

Wrigley was the Best Dog Ever.

No dog could ever take Wrigley’s place.

How can Blue be the Best Dog Ever if Wrigley is already the Best Dog Ever?

It must be Dog Logic.

That’s the only possible explanation.

It makes perfect sense to me.


It’s National Dog Biscuit Day! Who Wants to Celebrate?

Mostly True Memoirs

National Dog Biscuit Day

Is This Really a Worthy Celebration?

It’s National Dog Biscuit Day.

Who thinks of these things?

I mean, I’m glad that there are dog biscuits.

Blue certainly likes them.

In Wrigley’s last days, when she wasn’t eating much, she still loved her treats.

But a national day of celebration?

Is that going too far?

Do we even know if they are good?

I do recall that my brother, when he was 5 or 6, ate a dog biscuit.

Or maybe it was dog food.

I could ask him if he thinks this holiday is worthy.

He’ll probably deny that he ever ate such a disgusting thing.

But I remember.

At any rate, Blue has started obedience training, and the treats are sure coming in handy.

I guess that’s as good a reason as any to celebrate.

Happy National Dog Biscuit Day!


The Kid Made An Excellent Point

Mostly True Memoirs

Dots Are Terrible

Dots Are Terrible

Dots are terrible, and squares are delicious. The Kid made an excellent point many years ago, and it is still true today. There is no debate.


And squares.

There is no debate.

Dots are terrible.

Squares are delicious.

It all started with an angry, rambling rant when the Grown Son was about seven years old.

His tirade was a complete non sequitur, as most seven-year-old rants are.

I had to listen for a bit to understand just what the heck he was so angry about.


He was talking about meat.

Specifically, ground meat.

Dot meat.

He made it clear that he does not like dots.

He does not like dots in his tacos.

He does not like dots in his spaghetti sauce.

He does not like dots in his chili.

Dots are terrible.

Squares are delicious.

I don’t usually give much credence to angry tirades.

But I had to admit that the kid made an excellent point.

Squares ARE delicious.

I made a pot of chili for dinner tonight.

I used cubed chuck.

There were no dots.

There were only squares.

It was tasty.

The kid was right all along.


A Brilliant Opportunity For Revenge Was Dropped Right In My Lap!

Mostly True Memoirs

A brilliant opportunity

A brilliant opportunity for revenge was dropped right in my lap! Unfortunately, I was forced to fugedaboudit. Sigh.

A Brilliant Opportunity


Sweet, sweet Karma.

She’s always got your back.


Years ago, Bob and I had a dispute with another party.

I won’t mention the details here.

That would be petty and childish.

At the time, all we could do was forget about it and move on.

I haven’t thought about this thing in years.

The other day, Karma dropped an opportunity right in my lap.

“Hey check this out!” I chortled, interrupting Bob at work.

Revenge is a perfectly good reason to interrupt.

Bob didn’t seem to agree.

“We could -” I started.


“But it would be-”


“Why don’t we-”

“Let it go!” he stormed, but not in a cute Disney movie sort of way.


We have a brilliant opportunity for vengeance here.

Are we going to waste it with maturity and responsibility?

Apparently we are.

I may or may not have grumbled and stomped out of the room.

Now that some time has passed, I’m glad we took the high road.

Perhaps maturity and responsibility were the right choices all along.

OK, I’ll say it, he was right, and I was wrong.

But don’t tell him I said that.

He would gloat.

And that would be petty and childish.