I only set my stall out to reach three score and ten years because like many people I thought seventy would be ‘old age’ and I didn’t fancy moochin aboot in everyone’s way when I was past my sell-by date. My father had kicked the bucket on retirement at sixty five after a lifetime of hard work but on the other hand mum has just passed away earlier this year at a venerable ninety three after living without her ‘auld Charlie’ for thirty five years.
I was right about my survival guesstimate in some respects for according to Dr Raj – the consultant I spent time with this afternoon – I will need a visit to the NHS Spare Parts Dept for a new knee joint before long as I have worn my right one down to a painfull bone on bone. In the meantime I will have four months of physio to rebuild the leg muscles wasted in the aftermath of my ‘bum fiasco’ – then I can have up to three or four cortisone injections into the joint to replace the ‘disappeared’ cartilage. All being well this should set back the day of the big op for a few more years but I stopped playing rugby and racing motorbikes a long time ago so it shouldn’t disrupt my current sedentary lifestyle to any great extent.
I got my ‘prior planning’ right for once and did the last of the ‘heavy lifting’ in my new garden yesterday when I moved another ‘mobile’ hosta to make room for a fit looking hydrangea that I found myself unable to leave the garden centre without.
I don’t suppose anyone wants to see my x-ray pics from earlier today so here is one of my beaut hydrangea instead 🙂
By the looks of those little buds front and centre it won’t be long before it’s bursting into bloom —
From now on the garden should just need an occasional squirt of water from the hose and a scrape with the hoe to control the weeds – easy – something I can do from a wheel chair if it comes to that.
But it won’t – not as long as I can still swing my leg over one of the motorbikes I have tucked away round the corner 🙂
Three Score and Ten