Chella, my Haitian home nurse, looked genuinely stunned, when I answered her knock at the door.
"Where's your walker?" she asked.
"I forgot to use it," I said sheepishly.
Chella took my blood pressure, a little elevated, and examined the incision, recording the results on a tablet that she also asked me to sign. After double-checking to make sure that I was taking my medicine as prescribed, she left, assuring me that "Everything is looking very good," on her way out the door.
Her entire visit lasted around 15 minutes.
Matthew, my home physical therapy evaluator, arrived half an hour later in a vehicle considerably more modest than the Mercedes Chella had driven. He took some baseline measurements of my "extension" (how straight I could extend my leg) and "flexion" (how far back I could bend my knee), two words I initially confused but which would become important indicators of my recovery.
"Your flexion is already at 100 degrees," he reported. "That's pretty good for a day after surgery."
I told Matthew the exercises provided by Maddison, the virtual HSS physical therapist, weren't very challenging. He suggested a few others, allowing me to shoot video instructions, and leaving behind a red resistance band he retrieved from his car.
"Your regular therapist will call you next week to set up some sessions," he explained. "Would you like two visits or three?"
Gung ho, I opted for three. It seemed recovery was going to be easier than I anticipated.
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