Tuesday, March 15, 2011.
Postponement. Lunch At Il Posto.
Getting out of the house in my injured state is a lot easier than getting back in. Gravity is on my side, and I can use the car door and frame to pull me up.
We were right on time for my appointment with the surgeon. Everyone at the hospital was cheerful. The orthopedic doctor overseeing the surgery came in to tell me about the array of shots that would "relax" me. Strangely for me, I was already relaxed. I didn't have so much as a twinge of anxiety on the way across. I must be growing up.
I finally met the surgeon, Dr. Deryk Jones, a handsome, young, athletic man. He confirmed that he was indeed the surgeon who fixes broken Saints bones. And he laughed a lot. My kind of guy! I also noticed something Mary Ann mentioned later: an easy confidence. Very reassuring.
Dr. Jones didn't laugh when he cut the old splint off, however. Nor did anyone else. My broken foot, which I haven't seen in a week, was a mass of bruises and swelling. Dr. Jones said this would complicate the surgery unnecessarily. Today was the earliest day that they would have attempted the work, anyway. He made a new appointment for me next Friday. He also wrote some prescriptions for the gout, which also concerned him.
Mary Ann was up for lunch, and she had a place in mind, too. Il Posto is a hybrid coffee and sandwich shop, with a distinctly Italian style. Lots of cured meats and cheeses. It's quite American, though: an entire section of the menu is given over to grilled cheese sandwiches of various kinds. The clientele issuing in and out was decidedly on the young side. Even a few students from Sacred Heart, two blocks away.
There was no printed menu, so Mary Ann had to phone me (again, I am stuck in the car) to read what they had available. I wound up having her just pick something for me. That turned out to be a sandwich of sopressata and cheese on grilled ciabatta bread, with a salad on the side. It was made with classy materials and very tasty, although the melted cheese imperative was a little out of control. (In case I haven't said so lately, we melt entirely too much cheese in this country.)
By then it was almost three. We headed home through a pretty, cool afternoon. When we arrived, we had a bit less trouble getting back into the house than yesterday. In all my free time, I mentally figured out the moves. Good foot on the second step from the top, hands on stepstools on both sides, rolling chair right behind me, lift. Rick Barton told me that when he was similarly incapacitated, he had "leverage therapy." That's what I need.
I went straight for my nap. What with all those relaxing drugs they gave me at the hospital, it turned into an eight-hour nap. I got up around midnight and worked until three. Then back to bed for more very sound sleep.
Il Posto Cafe. Uptown: 4607 Dryades. 504-895-2620.
