Steve is doing fine with his new hip. Nevertheless, the first thing he said after surgery were these words: “Remember when I told you this operation couldn’t hurt any more than my hip was hurting all these months. I lied!” I think he meant he was wrong. It really hurt a lot, but soon after, he went back to sleep and woke up the next morning a new man with a new hip. I am oversimplifying by that statement. It’s been a rough few days. Steve is my hero. He is brave, true, and kind to everyone. I praise the doctors, nurses, and all hospital staff. My greatest praises go to Jesus. Healing is a precious gift from Him to all of us. Steve’s body is healing, and for that we are grateful.
Now that the hospital phase of this is nearly over, I am able to laugh at some of the challenges I faced. Yes, I know. They can’t be worse than having one’s hip pulled out and another one installed. True. But I had some minor problems.
For one, I haven’t driven much since I moved to Arizona. Steve drives; I ride. I like it that way, but it caused me to feel nervous driving. I had to drive Steve’s car because mine has a window that doesn’t work. I also have a very inadequate sense of direction. Steve showed me how to get to the hospital, and I almost got it right, but not exactly.
I had stayed overnight after the surgery and made it home the afternoon of the next day without making a mistake. I fed Chelsea (our pet), gathered up some things, and headed back to the hospital; but I chose the wrong ramp getting onto the superhighway. Blissfully I drove a long while before I realized I had gone the wrong way.
Complicating the situation, it was nighttime, and monsoon rains were falling. I didn’t know how to operate the windshield wipers, so the cleaning stuff was spraying and the wipers were wiping wildly, while I wanted them to go slowly. Then I’d get them to stop but couldn’t get them on again when the rain started up again.
God is good, and I finally got off the highway. I drove back onto the highway going in the opposite direction. I arrived at the hospital a little late. Steve was doing well. He probably wondered if I’d fallen in a ditch or decided to go somewhere else. I told him all about it. Poor guy.
The next day Steve’s always-reliable car wouldn’t start. It was parked in the hospital garage. I went back inside to tell Steve. We prayed that it would start later and it did! We thought the battery was going bad, so we decided I needed to drive my van with the window stuck down, a risky proposition in monsoon.
My first challenge with this new situation was backing my van out of the garage into which it barely fit. I backed it out safely, but when I drove it home, I couldn’t get it back into the garage correctly, and I couldn’t pull the garage door all the way down.
The next day I tried to drive my van snugly into the garage so that the garage door would clear the back of the van. I heard a very loud POP as I was creeping forward! I stopped and got out of the van, but I couldn’t see under it or in front of it. I could barely get out. I squeezed my body between the van and the side of the garage. I called Steve on the phone and asked what he thought it might be. He thought I might have run into the hot water heater.
YIKES! I opened the door at the rear of the garage so I could see the front of my van better. I was able to assure Steve that I hadn’t destroyed the hot water heater. I don’t know what the noise was. Thank God, the hot water heater is safe. I will be very glad when Steve is back to driving. I’m not sure how long that will be.