After avoiding the procedures for a couple of years, both knees were partially replaced in July. A few weeks were blocked out for the recovery period. It turns out that the recovery period is more like several months. It's literally been baby steps from waking up post-op to discover that getting out of bed was going to be a Herculean task. In the past week or so, the final "assistive device" has been put aside almost all of the time. Without that cane, my gait is sometimes a bit off.
The mister says I look like I'm trying to sneak around. Assuming that the standard for, "sneaking around," is on par with a Scooby Doo cartoon villain that creeps about slowly with arms raised, he's pretty close in that assessment. Adding to the oddity, occasionally balance is lost and the creeping takes on a wheeling quality not unlike a small child playing at imitating an airplane or bird. Completing the picture, when tired, there's a lovely lurching gait when moving from place to place; otherwise, I just teeter a bit.
The family has taken to announcing that, "She's had both knees replaced recently." They figure this will prevent people from beginning to whisper that I drink. All the time. Because that's pretty much the appearance. When the Homecoming Date came in to meet us before taking Middle Child out for ice cream, he was informed twice because everyone wanted to make a good impression. As part of the rehab process, I've taken to walking a mile circuit through the neighborhood. Toward the end, not one, but two neighbor ladies were doing double-takes as I careened through the final two-tenths of the mile this morning. Awesome.