Week 9: Gentlemen, We Can Rebuild Him. I'm Just Not Sure Why We Should Bother.....

My last day of a week's worth of vacation squandered away.  I would have much rather waited to take this vacation when I'm back to being a true biped and can bike, run, jump, and pirouette, but our factory shuts down for a week every 4th of July and it is what it is.  In my boredom, my biological clock seemed to align with our cats, Maverick and Goose, as I found my daily schedule morphing to theirs:

7:00 am to 7:00:05 am: Try to scarf down breakfast before my brother can so I can get a few bites of his.
7:00:05 am to 9 am: Self grooming followed by staring outside the window.  I wonder what's for dinner...
9 am to 12 pm: Nap.
12 pm to 1 pm: Chase the fly that got in the house.  Myeh, I'll just go poo.
1 pm to 4 pm: Nap.
4 pm to 4:02 pm: Hack up a fur ball on the carpet.
4:02 pm to 7 pm: Stare outside the window.  Reflect on that awesome fur ball.
7 pm to 7:15 pm: Try to trip mom up and meow at her repeatedly until she feeds me.
7:15 pm to 7:30 pm: Self grooming.  Perhaps a poo.  Nope, my brother's in there.  I'll try later.
7:30 pm to 9 pm: Knead dad's leg until it's soft enough to sleep on.
9 pm to 7 am: Pounce on mom all night. Put my butt in her face. Meow a lot.  I don't know why she's sleeping.

We were all pretty bored at times.  Maverick and Goose, having more experience, were far more creative about what to do with their boredom though:

 

Last weekend I realized I hadn't tortured myself near enough after watching both Raleigh and Eagleman 70.3 triathlons, so Angie and I went to watch and support the racers at the nearby Washington Oly and Sprint races.  It turned out to be one of the more exciting triathlons to spectate at with dog fights and people fights in the crowds.  The Tricredibles were well-represented on home soil and I secretly hated every one of them for sweating it out there on the course, but by the end I found my torture tank thoroughly filled with jealousy and was ready to go wallow in my misery at home again.

Various Tricredible sightings at the Washington Sprint and Oly.

Tuesday the wheelchair and one of the crutches were fired and I started to enjoy a tad more freedom than the last 8 weeks had afforded me. 

Could you please hold the door for me?  I'm deformed.

I could now tote my own wine glass, so that was pretty important.  No longer did I have to slide it along the kitchen counter, go into a sort of "drinking giraffe leg stance" with the crutches to transfer it to the top of the liquor cabinet, grab the fireplace mantle and balance while moving it from the liquor cabinet to the coffee table, then ease it to the couch while sliding on my butt across the living room carpet.  It was like reaching a new level in a video game where the goal is depleting yourself of dignity.

My left crutch and I enjoy the breeze through our leg hair.  Neither of us wanted to bring up that the right crutch, once always within reach, was now amongst the rest of the junk in the garage. 

I did get some swims in this week, and that felt great.  The imminent shift towards cycling is causing a bit of a struggle internally though.  I've been cleared to pedal easy - let's quantify it at about 100 watts - but the consensus seems to be indoor pedaling only.  I like my odds of staying upright on a bike ride on our Eastern Carolina country roads but the consequences of getting brought down by something (a couple dogs and one elusive but incredibly ferocious cat seem to be the latest culprits within the confines of Pitt County) would be pretty devastating if it dislodged the late but revered Mr. Peabody's cartilage donation from surgery.  And Mr. Peabody - I imagine watching from his cloudy perch in Heaven - would be very upset if I disrespected his generous donation.  So, I'll be a good sport and try to confine myself to pedaling nowhere on my horribly ancient trainer in my pain cave in the garage.......at least until I can stands it no more.

I love cycling, but this is just plain boring.  What you can't see on the computer screen is a real-time graph of how much I suck, artfully detailed out in units of wattage, speed, cadence, and amount of useless drivel I may have written about on my blog.

I've got to suck it up and mount that ugly pink stationary MBK steel turd though.  I had to buy a couple new pairs of shorts yesterday as my gut is threatening to bust through the threads of my old favorites.  Since Kona last October, I've gained 15 pounds through all this in and out of surgery stuff.  Still a long road ahead, but progress is progress no matter how tiny the baby steps I suppose.

 The amount that the right leg is now skinnier than the left is inversely proportional to the amount that the gut has swelled up since pre-op.

Well, there's still a little time left in this vacation to go stare out the window with Maverick and Goose.  I better go make sure I'm not missing out on anything.  See ya next time!