Thanks for the memories.  You’ve been a great companion these last 62 plus years and I’m sorry to see you go.  We’ve been through a lot together, seen the world, climbed mountains high and dove oceans deep, but it is finally time to say good-bye.  Frankly, you have become a pain in the a$$ and I, at long last, have made the mental and emotional transition required to make this separation a success. 

If you haven’t already guessed I’m becoming part of a rapidly growing affinity group of Americans, roughly my same age, who have chosen to have knee replacement surgery to relieve their chronic pain.  Until recently, the fear of the unknown, of replacing original equipment with something that comes out of a box, is exactly what has kept me out of the operating room.  But the fear of losing more sleep, of not being able to take long walks with my bride, or the fear of possibly not being able to play golf is a fear stronger than the unknown. 

Having now shared my decision with you, perhaps a short backstory is in order.

This final operation(?), my sixth surgery on the left knee, was 51 years in the making.  It dates back to when I was in 6th grade at Adams Grade School, on recess, and playing football with my teacher, Mr. Pusc, and classmates.  I caught a pass from Mr. Pusc, fell down, and my left knee hit a small rock hidden in the grass.  Boy did my knee hurt and it bothered me for years.

High School Era Gymnastics Picture 

During my senior year at Corvallis High School I was working on a floor maneuver during gymnastics practice.  I was performing a series of back-handsprings into a full twisting layout.  My body above my knees made the twist, but the rest didn’t keep up with the momentum.  I tore the cartilage in the knee and a few months following I had my first surgery.  If arthroscopic surgery had been available back in 1971, I doubt I’d be in the situation I find myself in today.  The surgery at that time was much more radical and invasive.  In the 1980’s and 90’s five more surgeries were required to remove cartilage, small pieces that were floating freely in the knee joint, causing the knee to catch.  There is little cartilage left in the joint and arthritis has settled in during the last few years.  Until recently I’ve been able to run and walk within reason, wanting to get as many miles out of my knee as possible.  But the constant rubbing of bone on bone is no longer tolerable and here is where I find myself today.

Looking ahead as to when this surgery might occur, I simply need to find six not so busy weeks in my schedule for down time and recovery.  Lisa and I are thinking December.

Lisa’s niece Molly, her husband Duane, and their four boys spent a few days with us last week.  Since they had never been to this part of Washington, we took them to all the touristy places, out on the sailboat, on a ferry, and of course collecting agates on the beach.  Below are some pictures from our time together.  I wish I had a picture of Duane falling in the water while he tried to tie the boat up at the dock, but it all happened so quickly.  Sadly, that humorous event will be captured in memory only.

The house pictured above was moved from a location downtown, five or six blocks away from where it started.  I’m confused as to why the home is elevated in the sky.  The architect side of me has yet to come up with an answer.  Let’s have a contest.  You tell me what you think the end construction will be, what it will look like, and if you guess correctly you will receive all the notoriety this blog can provide.  Good luck!

Recently my home teaching companion, Bill, and I were asked to come to a church member’s home.  The invitation was a response to the need for a blessing for the sick.  Bill and I arrived at the member’s front door at the same time, both of us with apparent physical problems of our own.  Bill had thrown his back out the day before, my knee was swollen and stiff, the result of a knee injection that had become infected.

Roxie, the lady of the house, led us to the living room where we found her husband Bob lying on the sofa, unable to get up because of ongoing back problems.  Also in the living room were friends of theirs, Ron and Joyce.  Joyce was suffering from cancer and her husband Ron was dealing with a rotator cuff tear.

Eyeing the scene before me I could not help but wonder, “Are the golden years really so golden?”  The only person in the room that appeared healthy was Roxie.  The rest of us were dealing with one physical ailment or another.  “What’s so golden about this setting?”  I was the adolescent in the room.  “Physically, is this what I have to look forward to?”  

If you haven’t yet reached your “golden years” don't let the current hype about the joys fool you.  Are they really the best of times?  I’m 62-years-young, have a wonderful wife with four grown and successful children and seven adorable grandchildren.  I’ve had a fulfilling career, I’m in good health (excepting a knee that needs replacing), active in church, and we appear to be financially secure.  Lisa and I live comfortably in our home in the community of Anacortes.  But I’m growing old and not liking it.  It’s the realization that it’s all downhill from here no matter how hard I try to maintain an upbeat attitude.  In my opinion, anyone over 62 who claims to be happy, or even content, with his or her present physical condition either is lying or belongs to a very fortunate minority.

So, to all of you still in the prime of life, enjoy what you have now.  Smell the roses while your sense of smell is still acute.  Listen to the birds while you can still hear.  Get up in the morning and be glad you are alive, really alive.

Lately I’ve been thinking about friends of ours, Pete and Sari Goodmonson.  Pete and Sari are in Europe for a couple of years, driving around in a small camper van, seeing the sights, and experiencing what the different cultures have to offer.  Sari posts pictures and stories of their travels on Facebook and it all seems so appealing. 

Our friends have initiated a life altering practice of putting “experiences” first, enjoying a richer life as opposed to putting “things” first.  Since we only have so much life to invest, Pete and Sari have decided how they want to spend theirs.  Instead of spending their time driving to the mall to buy stuff, they would rather invest their time enjoying the world. 

At another point on the spectrum we find the life of Tim and Lisa Cornelius.  We are chronically busy working away in the life we have built for ourselves.  Lisa has given me the opportunity for a different career, yet Lisa still toils away, day after day to provide us with the necessities of life.  Or are they really necessities?  At the end of the day can I say that what Lisa is doing is really making her happy, finding her fulfillment, and having real purpose.  No, but it pays the bills.

Pete and Sari have discovered the art of traveling light in life.  Someday I hope Lisa and I can find a happy medium between two differing lifestyles.

Those of you who are my “fitbit” friends have noticed my usual 100K steps per week have dropped to around 40K the last few weeks.  I went to my orthopedic doctor a few weeks ago and got another injection on Synvisc in my left knee.  Big mistake.  My knee didn’t take kindly to the injection and it became infected, stiff and swollen.  It was very frustrating, because of my lack of mobility, as I couldn’t go walking or running with Lisa and Demri when Demri was visiting.

I saw the doctor a week following the injection and he was grieved by the swelling and infection.  “Synvisc is not supposed to cause that reaction!”  He quickly gave me an injection of cortisone to help ease the pain and reduce the swelling.  It has been almost two weeks and the swelling has finally subsided, but the pain still remains.  I made the mistake of playing a round of golf earlier in the week and I think my days of long walks are done until I get a partial knee replacement.   I’m in a woebegone condition.

Poor Baby Blue, smacked from behind once again.  This time Lisa was in the driver’s seat, the last car in a long line of cars at a stoplight in Anacortes.  I’m not sure why our Lexus is such a magnet for irresponsible truck drivers, but Baby Blue is tired of the attention.  The driver hit Lisa with enough force that his drivers license number can be read in the bumper (see photo).  The policeman said to Lisa, “There’s no disputing who ran into you!”

To make matters worse, the driver of the truck, Tyler, has no insurance, no driver’s license, has a long list of offenses with the police, and has now skipped town to avoid prosecution.  Lisa and I are sure we will never see our $500 deductible returned to us.

Demri’s husband Eric surprised her by showing up at our home early on Saturday morning.  The secret was well kept.  Eric took a late flight on Friday from Arizona to Seattle (Eric is spending a few months in Arizona as an engineering intern working for Ruger).  It was a short visit, returning on an evening flight on Monday.  Below are a couple of photos from his time in Anacortes.

Demri returns to Utah on Saturday.  It has been a great couple of weeks having her in our home.  The time goes by much too quickly. 

And finally, another great dinner dish prepared by Lisa.  You are good!