My housemate Pat had her knee replaced on Monday 12 October. I have been surprised about her recovery.
She told me that she had pain since her 20s when she had an injury playing rugby. She had an ACL replacement in response to that injury, and some disability since then. For the past 15 years she has lived with special pain. In the three years that we have been living together, on most nights I have seen her raise her knee in the evening to sit with it horizontally expended, perhaps suspended with her foot resting on a chair or audoman. She would put ice on her knee and said that it reduced the pain. She could not run. Of course she was very athletic with her kayak.
She had been planning the surgery for about a year, then scheduled it some months ago. Her plan was to have the surgery then be in recovery for the rest of the year to return to work in January. She was in the hospital for a few days, then transferred to a nursing home for a little rehab and care. I visited her at the nursing home on Tuesday 20 October. Her friend / our friend Michael took me there. When I visited her she was obviously among the most health residents. Many of the people in the nursing home seemed mentally vacant. Many were obese and must have been limited in their mobility on that account. Others could have had any illness. It made me sad to see such little people sort of huddled together in community areas, all watching a television together, but not really socializing other than by being together in the same place and sharing the same television show that I doubt they were following. Some of them were wearing jewelry and even fashionable clothes, which made me think that either recently they had different lives or perhaps someone is still maintaining their appearance. Others of them seemed quite institutionalized, wearing plain impersonal clothing chosen for comfort and uniformity.
The idea of a large number of strangers silently watching a television together struck me as a fate I would like to avoid for myself and my loved ones. I had the idea that each of these individuals was brought into this designated community area which was mostly an open space with chairs pointed in the direction of a television. Some people came to this place in wheelchairs. It seemed to me that the activity here was to face forward, expose oneself to the television, and be stimulated. No one talked to each other. I suppose anyone who was there must have been placed there. Anyone with agency and free will would presumably have thought to choose a personal activity, like reading, watching video of their own choice on their own device, socializing, walking around, or doing anything other than being alone with strangers in front of network television on small screen in a big room with a hallway in it. All of the people in this place must have had middle class money at some time. This was not luxury care but it was far from the worst, having private rooms, lots of happy staff, and generally a well-run appearance. I was also struck that not only would I not like to spend much of my life in a place like that, but also if I were pressed into needing care I would not be able to afford even this much considering my social class.
Pat liked it well enough in this place and remarked that room service was nice and they washed her back in the shower. She said that the daily physical therapy was nice attention and useful and that she appreciated that their occupational therapist evaluated her and could give insight into her condition as compared to similar other cases. When I came to see her she had two stacks of books, one in processing and the other being completed. Her laptop was at hand. I asked her how she plugged it in and she said that she did not in her room, because rooms do not have electrical outlets because residents cannot be trusted with them. Pat seemed able to walk well and at almost a normal pace, even though she did get tired and sore when she took us for a walk. She showed me her knee. It had a huge cut in it with about 30 staples, but did not look inflamed or even like a wound in any other state than mostly healed.
On Friday 23 October Pat came home. I went to work that day then on to Sarah Lawrence College to talk with some health advocacy staff there about contributing to Wikipedia. When I came home she had a friend with her and was happy to be at home. She was walking around with a cane and felt comfortable going up her stairs. She was interested in her cats and I had sent her some updates about what they were doing, which was mostly sleep. They paid more attention to me while she was gone and I petted them more and brushed them too.
I often go to Fabian’s house on weekends but I asked him to come to Yonkers so that we could be with Pat just in case she needed anything. He came late Friday night and stayed Saturday and Sunday too. It was a peaceful weekend and we stayed in cooking and talking. Pat looked better every day.