Janice Ferguson Sews

day#8 post op

You have a lot of time to think in rehab.  Certainly, you are busy enough with all the therapy and nurse visits, etc.  But a lot of time is spent resting, trying to think about anything other than the aching  knee.  Sewing related topics, of course, are a common diversion.

Back in the closets of my mind a memory hangs, one that sometimes falls off its hook, requiring my attention.   A reader’s recent comment brought this particular recollection to the forefront of my mind.  In response to the post, Spring is Sprung, Karen said,  “I, too, used to buy smocked dresses at Dillard’s and Strasburg when they were on sale. That way my sweetie was dressed in sweet traditional things that I wasn’t concerned about her ruining. Although, I always felt that the beautiful things I made her were meant to be worn by her. There were some that were tossed or given away to Goodwill but not many. Most survived!”

That comment spurred this memory, more than 25 years old, of an anonymous child wearing one of Rebecca’s dresses.  It left me with feelings that I have been unable to accurately identify, express  or understand, even to this day.  Allow me to give you some background so you might see this from my perspective.  Continue reading →

Day#6 post op

Yesterday, I met a dear lady–correction: a dear lady met me, and everyone else, in the therapy gym.  I was flat on the bed/platform with my brand new knee being bent to an almost excruciating degree by Susan,  my wicked and wonderful physical therapist.  Maxine’s  motorized wheelchair came to a screeching halt, just short of knocking Susan off her stool.  Maxine’s unique costume and sunny dialogue instantly brought to mind Minnie Pearl, the American country comedienne of  The Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw fame.

It was flag day and I certainly didn’t need to check the calendar to see that. From head to toe, 75 year old Maxine was the personification of the Senior American Patriot Welcome Wagon Caller.  A tiered skirt in flag colors covered her ample bottom, red socks warmed her slippered feet and a white shirt displayed red, white and blue beads, a  few of which, she pointed out, were tiny flags.  The handknit white shawl wrapped over her shoulders was bedecked with no fewer than 15 patriotic pins featuring flags, eagles, USA, and more.

Like the maraschino cherry on top of a mouth watering sundae, the silver bun perched on top of her head was covered by  three knit headbands, red, white and blue, of course, carefully arranged in a stripe pattern.  Assembling and donning this ensemble obviously took some time, especially for a woman who is wheelchair bound. Continue reading →

Dear Friends,

I’m at the rehab facility, checked in by admissions, checked out by physical therapy and settled into my private room.   After  my first knee surgery,   rehab had me paired with a delightful,  interesting  80 year-old roommate and we talked most of the time we were not in therapy.  I do miss the sweet company of Miss Betty, but the new policy of private rooms for all ortho patients will leave me, I hope, with time to write some blogs, do some smocking and read some good books.

According to my surgeon, the knee replacement was routine and “almost boring,” which is good from his perspective. As I raised my eyebrows at this comment, he reminded me that no patient wants her surgery to stand out in the doctor’s memory. Of course, as the person whose leg was at the other end of the bone saw, I would have to say that this particular  surgery is quite memorable.

I have met some lovely people,  each with an interesting personality and personal story.  One such person is Carole, a very caring, dedicated hospital nurse.  I brought all my own pillows, with embroidered pima cotton pillowcases so they could be easily identified as mine.  Carole, probably around 55 years old,  commented that she too had a sewing/embroidery machine but she was going to sell it.  She had never gone for the lessons and had never sewn a seam, nor stitched out  a single embroidery–she just didn’t have time.  Continue reading →