Just 10 weeks ago today, I had a partial knee replacement.

I wrote about it earlier. At that time, I was less than two weeks out of surgery. I was still recovering.

These many weeks later, I still won't win too many races, but I'm walking my dog Penny on dreaded Death Marches. I'm able to go up stairs normally and not go up one step at a time.

I would say I was back to normal, but normal for me the past two years has been limping. I no longer limp.

Can I run? No. That was something I quit several years ago, thanks to a motorcycle (pronounced mo-ter-sick-el in East Alabama English) wreck I had. In fact, motorcycle riding went that day too.

I had prepared for the surgery the best I could. I had done various leg exercises to get my leg ready. I knew I was going to have to rehab it, but, at the same time, I know myself. I know I'm a fast healer. I knew I wouldn’t need the late Ernest Angley.

The surgery was on a Wednesday, and by Thursday, I had quit using the painkiller prescribed, and went strictly with acetaminophen. I had to use a walker, but I was afraid my brother would get a picture of me with the walker and use it to embarrass me. If it had been him using one, I would have done it.

After two weeks and two days, I was able to drive, saving Susan from my little noises that drive her crazy when she's behind the wheel. Yes, I beeped when she backed up. Yes, I made screeching noises when she turned a corner, sometimes on two wheels. Yes, I would pull the skin back on my face like the early astronauts during tests as she went from zero to 60 in record time. And, yes, more than once, I waved my hand in front of my face and said, “My life” as she hit the brakes too hard.

After 33 years, you’d think she’d be used to me by now. I make noises when I drive. Well, maybe not to the degree when she’s driving.

A month ago, we decided to go to Coastal Georgia for a vacation. I was told not to go to the pool or the ocean for six weeks after the surgery. I'm sure it had something to do with sharks; they can smell blood.

Add to that, I’m not an ocean person. I have lived near the ocean and the Gulf. They’re pretty, but things with big teeth live in them. I’ll stay on the beach.

Six weeks after the surgery was the Wednesday of our weeklong trip. Luckily, we went to a turtle rehab center on Jekyll Island that day, and then to the airport in Savannah to fly our daughter home that Thursday. And Friday, we headed to Marietta, Georgia, to see my brother and his wife.

I avoided the sharks.

Meanwhile, I was doing a pretty decent job walking. One day in particular, I think Susan wanted to test me. We used to live in Savannah. In fact, that's where we met and got married.

We walked to the end of River Street, the street that's, believe it or not, on the river. It's about a mile long. We got to the end, turned around and walked back, then I asked her where she'd like to eat.

“What about the Shrimp Factory?”

“I thought you don't like shrimp.”

“I don't, but you do.”

The Shrimp Factory was at the far end of River Street. I like shrimp. We walked and walked. We got there, and found out there was a 45-minute wait.

We ended up eating at the Boar's Head. I didn’t have wild game, but shrimp. There was entertainment of sorts. We watched a woman who had been seated at the bar and was leaving. She had more trouble walking than I did..

It did prove to Susan, I hope, that I am getting back to being semi-normal.

Brian Love is a Cleveland freelance writer.

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