The Knee Ladies

Two months to the day that were released from the physical therapy hospital, three of us who had had knee replacements, met for lunch.

I'd met Parnia and Cheryl the day I arrived at the rehab facility just days after surgery. In pain and bleary with lack of sleep and too many drugs, my husband wheeled me into my room where I was greeted by a lovely, middle-aged woman with a stunning smile, beautiful skin and a very sore knee. She'd had her operation a week before mine and was still reeling from its effects. She was a charmer with a giggly laugh and lots of stories about the places she had lived. Once settled, my family left and Cheryl arrived at our door in a wheelchair, her face lined with pain. We learned that hers had been a very complicated operation and it would be months before she was up and around.

Every morning we struggled together through physical therapy and comforted each other as the tears streaked our faces. Cheryl had the most difficult time with a leg that would not bed but never failed to make us laugh. Parnia, on the other hand, seemed to be doing well. Our goal was to just make it through and get home!

Over the course of weeks we were at the hospital, we spent hours in therapy each day and an extra hour or so in the evening in a fun chat session where we laughed and compared notes, comforted and encouraged each other, compared how we walked -- and shared our latest stash of chocolate.

My husband arrived at the doorway each morning with a Humphrey Bogart routine that started the day on the right note. Everyone loved him because he always arrived with the unexpected. In fact, the day we left, he gave my roommate and me a pair of black fishnet stockings!

Two weeks passed and it was time to leave. As we got into our cars, we promised we would stay in touch. So many times people make those promises and don't keep them. This was different. Each of our roles had been important to the others' recovery and we knew it. So we emailed and called; we got through Christmas and compared notes, then, New Years and compared notes again. By that time we were well into January and it was time for us to meet.

At lunch how different we all looked. Every one's hair was done, their makeup on. We were wearing real day clothes and scarves and jewelry. Last we'd seen of each other we were pale as sheets, slightly dizzy from the meds and ready to head straight for bed when we arrived home. But this day in January was quite different. Each of us was alive in her own way. Each had traveled a different path since we'd left the hospital. W e decided to devote just 20 minutes to a "knee discussion" -- good luck! Instead, our knees seemed to touch every topic of conversation. And in the end, we compared scars! Cheryl was still having tremendous trouble with her knee and wanted to see how our knees had healed. Looking back now, the sight of us standing with our leg pants up was good reason for patrons to think we were nuts. We did it anyway.

We had come a long way. Our scars were healing well. We were able to walk, to bend our knees anywhere from 100 to 120 degrees but we were ready to have it over, to stop focusing on these prostheses that had been a blessing but had caused so much pain in our lives. We were ready now to focus on what mattered most, the very reason we were sharing tapas that January day...the friendship that got us through.