This week, following a 50^th anniversary celebration, my husband had his third shoulder surgery.  Yes, I said third, on the same shoulder—in a year. I guess the older you get the more your body refuses to heal correctly.  The surgery didn’t hold the first time.  His body reacted badly to surgery the second time and they had to quit before they could finish, and the third time was the charm, we hope. 

He had outpatient surgery in Oklahoma City at the OU Health Center.  They were very professional, and things went as they should.  Now he has another five weeks of recuperation in a sling followed by physical therapy—again.

I hope things work out well this time.  He’s a trooper.  He says his pain level is low and he’s used to the sling now.  I keep thinking the longer he is in a sling and not using the arm the more the muscles will atrophy. But I guess physical therapy will take care of that. He’s been saying he has one and a half arms.  For a do-it-yourselfer, he has had to ask for help a lot and that is not his style.  He hated that more than the recuperation.

But we are getting back to normal.  I wrote for a few hours yesterday.  I should have taken my laptop to the hospital and done some writing while I waited on him but didn’t want to carry it.  I took a book and read instead.  I’m not sure how good the writing would have been with me under stress. But even bad writing is writing.

Now, we are back on track for healing and writing.  I’m working on another Sandhill Island novel.  The last, I believe.  It might be time to put the little island to bed and move on to other things.

What are you reading/writing this week?