The family trunk

I've been saying for a while that the pictures of Cody show that he's looking more and more like my younger brother Rodger looked as a kid. Of course, no one listened. Or if they did, they dismissed me with a so-what? So when Courtney sent me this photo, I put it next to a picture of Rodger and me from our childhood. Both are looking in the same direction and, to me, the similarity is eerie.

Of course Rob said, "Cody looks like your brother and you're surprised? It's not exactly like your family tree has branches -- it's more like the family trunk." That Rob's a funny guy.

It's just the big, old head atop the small neck that looks the same. And Cody has the habit of pulling his upper lip up and out, the way Rodger used to.

I remember taking the picture with Rodger. I'd just stolen his toy tractor. We'd both been given toys to carry for the picture and I had my rag doll and Rodger had this tractor. Of course, seeing Rodger with anything that gave him pleasure always was a source of great annoyance to me. My mom always tried to tell me that I felt this way because I was evil and black-hearted, but I've spoken with other older brothers and sisters and we all agreed that we had but one mission in our young lives -- to make sure that these new, younger, cuter upstarts that our mothers produced and preferred, got nothing. Ever.

So in this picture I'm gloating and Rodger's about to go after his tractor, which he wasn't allowed to because of the pictures. There's an entire series. In the next photo he has his hand out reaching for the tractor. In the final one there's just me, holding the tractor; grinning in absolute triumph. Rodger's not in the picture because by this time he was in tears. Mission accomplished.

It's weird, almost 50 years later, I can remember it all. I remember HATING the short hair my mom insisted I have -- she always sought to be "different and original." I used to put towels on my head to pretend I had long hair. My first act of self-determination was to grow my hair and to this day I abhor short hair, especially on me.

As far as our ongoing medical battles, Rob and I are now in the recuperation period. Rob's eye is healing nicely and his vision is about where it should be, the doctor assures us. I'm walking better all the time. I pretty much ignore all the physical therapy exercises and instead walk and garden and do housework all in an effort to get back to "normal." It seems to be working because even though I had to skip an appointment/torture course, I was actually doing better and had increased my range of motion.

We're almost functional. I was able to get Rob to L.A. without help and I can actually shop for groceries again.

People ask me all the time about the knee replacement and right now, I don't have a lot of good to say about it. I suppose it's because my knee really wasn't in terribly bad shape until right at the end. It was a little sore and swollen, but I could walk on it just fine when they did the first MRI, which showed all kinds of problems. By the time I had the surgery, the knee had frozen and couldn't bend at all. But it had been that way for just a couple of months.

Most people who get knee replacement surgery have been limping around for years getting ever more invasive procedures. When they finally get the surgery, they rejoice to not have the pain and disability. For me, the surgery came quickly after the complete collapse, so I'm not feeling quite the sense of relief.

It's really hard to learn to walk again. I have to remind myself with each step how to walk -- heel, sole, toe. Bend the knee. Extend the knee. I have a tendency to do a stiff Frankenstein walk and I have to continually stop and tell myself to walk correctly. I'm still using the cane because the knee will still give from time to time, but I put less and less weight on it. It's also become painfully apparent that each and every pound of extra weight I'm carrying is an extra burden on my knees, so I'm watching what I eat.

All in all things are definitely looking up, although both of us are ready to say adios to this little time in our lives.