January 27 had assumed the significance that last day of school had when I was a kid: restored to freedom. So I wasn't happy when I awakened to 18" of snow and no bus service.
Still, I prepared for work as usual, even leaving at the same time to make my early appointment on East 77th Street. Fortunately, the 86th Street transverse road under Central Park had been plowed and traffic was light at 7:30 a.m. I trekked crosstown, snapping photos along the way. The snow already had been cleared from the sidewalks in front of the apartment buildings on Fifth Avenue and the snow blown entrance to the Metropolitan Museum of Art was bathed in early morning light.
A lone technician manned the phones at the radiology clinic. He couldn't believe that I had walked to my appointment just six weeks after hip surgery. We chatted easily until enough staff had arrived to begin the day. Another technician x-rayed my hip and I arrived at my 9 a.m. appointment with plenty of time to spare.
The resident who had enlisted me for an orthopedic study picked up several forms from me. He answered a couple of questions that I couldn't wait to ask ("Can I go swimming now? Can I ride my bike? Can I get rid of the elevated commode?") but assured me Dr. Ranawat would be in soon.
At 9:45 a.m. the receptionist finally heard from Dr. Ranawat, who was stuck somewhere on Long Island. All appointments were cancelled for the day. Tough luck GHI patients! He abandoned 3 of us.
I hadn't realized how much getting the all clear from my physician meant to me. I really wanted an interaction with the guy that fixed me. Speaking to the resident, or hearing from a woman who left a message on my answering machine this afternoon just doesn't do it. "Your x-rays looked great. You can abandon all your hip precautions and go back to work," announced Julie in a chirpy voice, not realizing that I had passed that threshold of recovery 3 weeks earlier. More than anything, I wanted to walk pain-free without a limp in front of my physician and hear him tell me that my recovery has been as remarkable as I think it has. That's something they should teach in medical school if they don't.
But as my first after-work swim at the Columbia pool in nearly 2 months proved, my recovery is just beginning in some respects. My kick seemed a little . . . mechanical, and it felt like I was doing the breaststroke in concrete. I swam just 30 laps instead of my usual 70. On the plus side, my Speedo nearly covers the scar and being able to sleep on both sides of my body without a pillow between my legs was pure heaven!
Maybe my stamina and exercise routine will have returned to normal at my 3 month follow-up visit. Let's hope Dr. Ranawat shows up this time.
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