Old routines die hard. My recovery had progressed sufficiently to accompany Chris to Walmart for our weekly grocery shopping which increased my distance-walked by the end of the day to more than two miles. AND I drove the Folly Chariot home, which came as a real relief because it meant that transportation to my first follow-up visit at the Hospital for Special Surgery and out-of-home PT visits wouldn't be a problem with both Chris and Thom gone in just a few days.
Constipation was no longer a threat because I stopped taking oxycodone two days earlier with a literary assist from Demon Copperhead. His descent into opiate addiction after a knee injury had been both a timely and resonant cautionary tale in spite of Ms. Zhylinskaya's pre-surgical exhortations to "stay ahead of the pain."
My energy level had increased, too: I purchased ingredients for both tapenade and chopped liver in anticipation of a visit from Patrick and Marty Saturday night. They were in Palm Beach for the Easter weekend.
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