Comeback

One of the things I've been secretly hoping was that by summer's end, I'd be able to do a sprint triathlon. There's a really fun small neighborhood race called Island Lake of Novi in late August that's perfect for the "beginner" triathlete. It's the shortest, easiest race I've ever done, and takes less than 90 minutes total. In 2005, I finished third in my age group; in 2006, I finished second in my age group and something like sixth (woman) overall. Of course, I wasn't hoping for anything close to an age-group place this year. I just wanted to get out and race again.

Unfortunately, I don't think I'm quite ready. I know I'd be able to finish the race -- with the adrenaline of race day, I could easily push myself through the 3-mile run, and I can breeze through a 800-meter swim and 10-mile bike (well, OK, I haven't been on a road bike in a year...but I know I could do it). But the thing with me is, I don't race to finish. I race to kick some ass. I may not be fast, but I still have that competitive drive that I've had since high school cross-country. As soon as that gun goes off, the ass-kicking begins, and does not cease until the finish line is crossed. And if I tried to kick ass in this race, I'd end up kicking myself in the ass for getting hurt.

I've been doing plenty of exercise these days, but mentally I'm not ready to push myself. I ride my bike to work 3 or 4 days a week, but it's at a slow, leisurely pace, and I granny-gear it when I go up the big hill. I've been wogging (thanks for the word, Runner Susan) a few times a week, but 10-minute miles are the fastest I allow myself to go. It's not that I don't have it in me to push myself; I'm just scared of getting hurt. The only place I'm really working hard is the weight room. If I could just cut it out with the baked Cheetos, I'd look like a freaking body builder.

I'm sure the fear will pass. Hell, I'm not even five months out from surgery and I don't think I'm doing too badly with the wogging and biking. I still hate swimming, so like always I'm avoiding it as much as possible, but I can kick out a 1:50 for 100M if I put my mind to it.

So I'm setting a new ass-kicking comeback goal of spring 2009. I know there's no triathlons in Michigan in the spring (you try swimming in 60-degree water and see how you like it), but I think a 5K might be a good place to start. I've got the fall and winter to build my endurance and my quads and hamstrings so I don't get hurt again. I also need to lose those last 3 pounds that I've been lazy about -- and not for vanity's sake. The more weight I carry around, the more I stress my joints.

So let's hope that this time next year I have a big comeback under my belt. I've still got a long way to go...

Knee stuff

When I was about three months out from my wedding and someone would ask "how's wedding planning coming?" I wanted to hurt them. Not badly -- just enough that they wouldn't ask me about wedding planning ever again. Part of it was that I'm the world's biggest procrastinator and it really wasn't coming along very well (yes, everything worked out in the end, but it was a very stressful September), but the bigger thing is that I was just sick of talking about it. I was excited about having a wedding when I first got engaged, and I was excited the week before, but the entire year in between, I found myself wishing that Brad and I had eloped in Vegas.

I tell this story because I find the same thing is happening when people ask about my knee. A well-meaning individual will say "how's the knee doing?" and, again, I want to hurt them (no pun intended, haha). My knee is actually doing very well. And there's actually a great story behind my knee doing well. It involves getting a second opinion from someone other than my Harvard-educated, world-renowned surgeon, and that second opinion basically turned around my recovery for the better. But to be honest...I'm just sick of talking about it, sick of thinking about it, and ready to just move on. I don't feel like telling the story. Not in my blog, not in person. So don't ask. :)

One lap...

around the track. It didn't feel so hot. But hey, at least I tried.

It's been kind of a rough knee week, I think in part because I've been overdoing it a bit. Just because I "can" ride my bike and do the elliptical machine, doesn't mean I'm OK to do those things as much as I used to. And lately my other knee has started hurting, probably because as I've gotten back into an active lifestyle I've been over-compensating and stressing my right leg a bit.

I let myself get really depressed about it earlier in the week, but now I'm just determined. Determined to beat this thing and get back to living without pain, no matter how long it takes. I spent almost two hours at the gym this morning, first in the pool, and then doing all the quad/hamstring exercises that I do in physical therapy (I'll be out of town all week for work, but the hotel I'm staying at has a gym, so hopefully I can do my PT stuff there too). Then I topped it off with 30 minutes of upper-body weights. Nothing (aside from the 30 seconds of running) that I shouldn't be doing, so hopefully it didn't do any damage.

Knee update

I went to see the doctor on Thursday for my six-week follow-up appointment. Everyone I told said, "I can't believe it's already been six weeks!" which is funny, because in my mind, I'm thinking "six weeks? Feels like it's been six months! Or six hundred years!"

One thing I've learned about today's hospital system is that you get about 35 seconds with an actual practitioner, so you'd better make the most of that time. So the second she came up to my table, I started talking like an aucioneer. "126 ROM up stairs yes down stairs no quads still weak dr m said i'd be running in month why am i not better yet plz help"

Anyway, the bottom line is, I'm doing fine. The doctor (not my surgeon -- I see him in 3 weeks) said everything looked great, and although she didn't come out and say "Your surgeon should not have said you'd be running in a month," she didn't NOT say that either. She said everything looked better than good, and I was right on track for the amount of synovial tissue that was removed (to quote her: "that makes the knee very, very angry." I love that my knee is angry. We are going to start listening to My Chemical Romance together). She said it would probably be another month or so before I really turned the corner and to just be patient and keep workin' it in PT.

If you know me in any context, you know that patience about ANYTHING is not a major quality of mine (my husband will laugh his ass off when he reads this because that's the understatement of the millenium). But in this case, amazingly, I'm okay with waiting. As long as those medical professionals keep telling me I'm not a complete disaster, I'm happy with my progress.

I can swim fine now, so I've been going to the pool for about 30 minutes, three or four times a week, and I just started going back to the gym for upper-body weightlifting on my non-PT days. It's amazing how quickly muscle disappears when you don't use it. I'm skinnyfat now -- I feel both skinny and flabby at the same time. But I guess having normal-sized thighs that actually fit into pants ain't such a bad thing!

Also, I learned that I won't be "officially" released to return to normal activities until I can do 10 single-leg presses of my weight. I did 30 double-leg presses at 90 pounds on Thursday (which is NOT my weight), so I still have a long way to go.

Another day

Today was one of those days that makes you very thankful that tomorrow is another day. At least that's what I keep telling myself -- TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY. BE THANKFUL YOU UNGRATEFUL B****.

I see my PT three times this week, and my doctor once. Would you believe it's April 7and I've already reached my out-of-pocket maximum for my and Brad's health insurance in 2008? Well it's true, and you'd better believe I'm going to enjoy my FREE HEALTHCARE until the ball drops in January of 2009. (Well, aside from the stuff they take out of my paycheck.)

To be honest, I'm feeling way down about the condition of my knee lately. I'm nearing 6 weeks post-op and I'm nowhere close to running yet. I wouldn't be so bummed if I hadn't spent my drive home dodging bikers, walkers and runners. Spring is the best time of year to be a triathlete. Even last spring, when I was suffering from knee problems, I was at least able to get out and do some mountain biking.

But anyway...I guess I'm making a little bit of progress every week, and as long as my physical therapist tells me I'm "on track" and she's "not worried" I guess I can stay optimistic. Range of motion was 122 this morning, and my quad strength is coming back to the point where I can do squats and leg lifts with 2-pound weights. My PT said last week that she has never seen anyone who had post-surgery quads in as bad shape as mine were. Apparently a severely pulled quad and muscle atrophy are not normal? Good to know.

Well, go enjoy the beautiful weather, you normal people. I'm going to go be sulky and sad for a little while and then go get over myself. There are litle kids starving in Africa, and tomorrow is another day.

And another thing

121 degrees of mobility today, up from 105 last week. And I did three whole minutes on the stationary bike, although my knee won't quite bend enough yet for a good pedal stroke.

But even though I had some big improvements this week, all of this is so frustratingly slow -- and I'm still not anywhere close to where I thought I'd be at this point. My body feels like it's turned to complete mush. It's pretty amazing that five years' worth of muscle can go away in five weeks of a sedentary lifestyle.

That's it - no more ranting. It's time to suck it up and do something about it! Tomorrow morning I'm heading to the gym to do some ab work and arm weights for the first time since my surgery. It won't be much (literally...I'm thinking 3-pound curls), but at least it's something.

Swimming update

Swimming went fine. And when I say "swimming" I actually mean "floating." I did do a couple laps with the pull buoy (for non-swimmers, that's a floaty thing you hold between your legs when you swim freestyle or backstroke so you only work your arms), and those felt great -- but my real focus was not a workout, it was getting my legs moving around. I stayed in the deep end for about 15 minutes, just sort of treading water and kicking around. I had an intense PT session last night (more on that later), so I'm skipping the pool today, and will probably head back for 20 minutes or so on Saturday.

The nice thing about water is that it allows me to do things - walking, kicking, leg lifts, etc. -- without fear. On "land" (hee hee, I'm a pirate!), I can't get over the thought that I might do something with too much intensity and pull a muscle or tweak something in my knee. I don't have the same kind of fear in the pool, so I'm inclined to push a little harder.

I had a great PT session as far as exercises go, but I didn't make any more mobility gains last night (well, I went from 91 to 92 degrees, I guess), so I was bummed about that -- but then again, I went BACKWARDS last Thursday, so I'm trying to look at this in weeks rather than days. I have to say, the slowness of this process has been one of the most frustrating things I've ever experienced. My surgeon originally said I'd be running in a month; that's obviously NOT going to happen. But I guess everyone heals at a different pace.

On Bended Knee

It's funny how your goals change with the circumstances. Two years ago at this time, my goal was to finish a half-Ironman triathlon. Today? My goal is to bend my knee at a right angle.

After knee surgery, there are two ways they judge your progress in physical therapy: strength and mobility. We already know that my muscles are pretty much shot (to quote my doctor on Monday: "wow, that's puny"), and I'm still taking it very easy on my quads when I do exercises to avoid another disastrous muscle pull, so my PT is holding off on doing any kind of strength testing this week. But I knew when I showed up today that she'd be testing my mobility - basically, how far I could bend and straighten my leg.

All weekend and during the beginning of the week, I worked on increasing the bending (I can fully straighten already). I did heel slides, assisted leg raises, quad massages, and everything else I could to loosen up without hurting myself. You can see photographic proof of me doing my heel slides, as well as some funky green bruises. Oh, and I realize our rug is nasty. That's what happens when you have a cat with claws. (The Dyson makes it look much prettier.)


91 freakin' degrees, baby.


Last Thursday, even with a warm-up, I could only bend about 80 degrees. Today, I maxed out at 91! When I saw that number, I almost cried tears of joy. Not only is 91 degrees a huge improvement over last week, it's more than a right angle -- meaning I can bend it more than I can't bend it. You people have know idea how happy that makes me. I would even venture to say I feel more ecstatic than I did after running my first marathon.

But that's not all the good news I have. Before I left PT, I had an important question to ask. I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and said:

"Can I swim?"

"Of course!" answered my PT. "I think it will be good for you. Just be careful not to do too much kicking."

I think she blabbed on longer after that, but all I realy heard was the first part about the fact that I GET TO SWIM!!! After three and a half weeks of zero exercise, I get to go to the pool tomorrow. I can barely believe it myself.

And no need to lecture me - I promise to be careful. I may even avoid the swim lanes altogether and try out the "aqua-jogging" lanes. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, and here's some cuteness to erase the grossness from your mind. Danny Boy fell asleep in Brad's arms last night with his paw sticking straight out. I love my husband and cat!

Healing

Well, my friends - I think it's fair to say I'm finally on the mend. Yesterday was what I hope will be a turning point in the recovery process - I could tell immediately upon waking up that it was going to be a good day, at least relative to the past 17.

I did more physically than I've done since the surgery, making it out of the house several times during the day and going out to dinner at night. I'm sore today from all the moving around, but it's a satisfying kind of sore, not an "I hurt myself" kind of sore.

I still have a long road ahead of me, but hopefully I'll be able to drive it a little faster than 15 mph from now on!

Progress pictures

I think I'm a little better today, although looking at these pictures that Brad took, you can definitely see that I've lost some muscle in my surgery leg -- check out the left chicken calf. Ugh.

You can also see that it's still pretty swollen above the knee, but I think it's actually gone down over the past few days. (The kneecap is making its re-emergence!) I would post pictures that Brad took of me a few days after surgery for comparison, but they're pretty gross, so I'm holding off for now.



And now for your standard butt/back-of-leg bruise shot. The bruising looks worse in person.

Update 4.x

I'm not going to write a post about my knee today, because I'm holding out until I can write a positive post about my knee. Let's just say it's been a really rough week and when I feel like being a drama queen, I start crying about how I'll never be able to walk again. I realize that people recover at different rates and I know I'm being stupid, but I realy did think I'd be of the crutches by now.

On another note, I have spontaneously lost 4 pounds in two and a half weeks. I know, right? But before I get too excited about being at my lowest weight since college, I have to remember that some of it is probably muscle loss. (I can't do the pants test until the swelling goes down in my knee -- I've been living in sweats and fat pants since the surgery.) I swear, though, I'm the only person in the universe who gets consistently skinnier while leading a consistently more sedintary lifestyle, as evidenced by the past year. I'm not complaining, I guess - it's just weird.

It's been quite a morning.

Crutches, laptop, knitting, remote, blankets and painkillers. What's missing from this picture? Nothing, actually.

Well, maybe a cat (who joined me shortly after Brad snapped this pic), and some chili-cheese fries. But the day is still young.

Another setback

The good news: my knee feels better. The bad news: I think I pulled my quad. While that may not seem like a big deal, pretty much every exercise or motion I have to perform to help my recovery involves my quad, so this will be a major setback in the process.

I'm not exactly sure how it happened. It started to hurt on Wednesday, and it took until Thursday - a week after the surgery - before I was smart enough to realize that my crutches were set too low. To avoid putting weight on my leg, I had to hold it up, engaging my quads and my hamstrings with every step. So basically, every time I walked to the bathroom, I was doing about 20 leg-lifts. Once I raised my crutches up to the 5'3" setting, I was able to let my leg hang free.

On Friday, I went to my first PT session, where they had me do a bunch of quad exercises. It was definitely sore, but I figured that was normal. I tried to do the same exercises Saturday morning (the PT told me to do them every day), and couldn't get through the first set. And by the end of the day, the pain in my quad was excruciating with every move. Granted, I probably overdid it a little yesterday morning, but I spent most of the day sitting on the couch with ice on my leg.

I guess I couldn't expect things to go perfectly with this. But still...argh.

A setback and the best movie ever

So, I've had better days. The progress I was making earlier in the week (baby steps...literally) seems to have stalled. On Sunday I was able to shuffle across the kitchen with one crutch...and today I was able to shuffle across the kitchen with one crutch. I still don't have much of a range of motion, and I was in too much pain to finish my exercises that I'd been getting up every morning to do.

It's not that I expected to be running marathons on day seven. It's just that I expected to be doing, well, more than I am. Every time I talk to someone about my surgery, I get the same response: "Oh, it was only arthroscopic surgery? My husband/aunt/brother/co-worker had arthoscopic surgery and was on crutches for three minutes." My first thought is that they think I'm being wimpy, and my second thought is that they think I'm milking it.

Now, I'm not above milking the occasional unfortunate situation for sympathy and brownies, but I am not milking this one. IF I had the ability to walk, my house wouldn't be a complete disaster, my pants would be ironed, and we'd have more food in the fridge than a clove of garlic and a moldy jar of hot fudge sauce. (Brad has been amazing at helping me get around, but he's working crazy hours this week, and there's only so much he can do in terms of floor-scrubbing and grocery shopping.)

I know I shouldn't care what other people think, and I should instead worry about ME. This is my knee, and not the knee of somebody whose granddaughter went on a weeklong hike a week after getting her meniscus repaired. I'm just impatient and want to be back to normal.

On a brighter note, my friend Lauren came over tonight and brought the two best cheer-a-girl-up things in the world: a cheese pizza and High School Musical! I loved it, and can't wait to see the second one! Makes me wish I had cooler things to obsess over than The Lion King when I was a pre-teen.

Since Thursday, without even asking, I have been on the receiving end of a pizza, a board game, two offers to sit through girly movies with me, one offer to wash dishes and clean cat poop, and several other things that probably happened while I was three sheets to the vicodin wind. My friends rock.

And last but not least (or maybe it is least), here's a photo of the hat I'm knitting for Brad. He commissioned it, so he'd better wear it. ;) The yarn is absolutely gorgeous and fun to knit with. Which it should be for the price I paid.

Checking in

I'm back from my first full day back at work. In honor of such a milestone, I'll update in the form of a bulleted list. (Except I can't remember code for bullets, so you get dashes instead.)

-I can't believe no one has made millions of dollars by marketing the magical crutch workout plan. Crutches are EXHAUSTING. Every time I have to get up to go to the bathroom, I come back in a full-on sweat with my biceps shaking as if I had just done 25 military push-ups.

-My knee doesn't really hurt. It's just really stiff, and doesn't bend much. I will never again take range of motion for granted.

-I start PT on Friday. I have exercises to do at home in the meantime, like contracting my quad muscles in three sets of 15, and bending my knee with the help of my other foot. I know what you're thinking: watch out, you don't want to get too buff! Thanks for the warning -- I'll be careful.

-I get my stiches out next week. Is it just me, or did anyone else think all stitches these days were supposed to be super-bionic and dissolve on their own? Who gets stiches out anymore!

-My doctor said, and I quote, "we'll have you running in a month." Hmm. I think that's just a bit ambitious, don't you? I realy have no interest in running a month. I've gone 14 of them without, so why push it?

-I made an awesome pair of red fingerless gloves! They're by far my best-looking project to date. I'll post pictures later.

Update 4

Last night we managed to leave the house for a trip to...wait for it...Chili's! Ha. We normally hate chain restaurants (...as Brad put it, no matter what you order, it all sorta tastes the same). But Chili's is close to home, has no stairs, and we knew there wouldn't be a wait at 5:00. OK, if that sentence doesn't make me sound 85 years old, I don't know what would. Maybe "they deliver Chili's early-bird specials to my nursing home?"

On the knee front, I'm still pretty swollen today, but in less pain. I was able to put a little weight on my leg and shuffle-walk across the kitchen this morning. Unfortunately, at one point my crutch slipped out from under me and I stepped wrong, sending a jolt of pain up my leg. It set off a string of swear words but only hurt for a split second, so I don't think it shifted anything around. Still, though, it was frustrating. I've been trying so hard to stay off my feet -- I hope this won't be a setback.

Tomorrow is my follow-up doctor's visit and then back to work (from home, that is). I'll probably get back into a normal schedule on Thursday or Friday.

Update 3

I took the bandages off this morning, as directed by the stack of papers I brought home from the hospital (aka "the bible"). It was a quite disheartening -- I guess I expected my knee to look normal except for two small incisions on either side. Unfortunately, my knee does NOT look normal. Here is where you should stop reading if you're squeamish.

My kneecap and thigh look like they've been injected with about three pounds of fluid. The whole mess is swollen, bruised and bumpy, not to mention covered with a combination of dried blood and iodine. Also, without the pressure of the two ace bandages that have been wrapping my entire leg for the past 48 hours, the whole thing feels achy. The nurse said I could shower once the bandages came off, but I'm not ready to stand in the tub.

Whenever I accidentally put weight on my leg, I get shooting pains through my knee, thigh and groin. I also have pain in my armpits, wrists, hips and right leg from crutching around yesterday. Last night I was feeling pretty optimistic, but this morning I'm just bummed out and frustrated, especially after spilling half a glass of soy milk on the floor (note to gimps everywhere: trying to carry a glass in your teeth = not effective).

I was hoping to at least go out for coffee today or something, but don't think I'll be leaving the house after all. Boo.

On a happier note, I finished the right mitten! I made the cuff longer and switched to brown yarn halfway through. So now I have a pair of mis-matched, bumpy and mistake-ridden mitts. :)


Mismatched mittens and a White Castle mug...now that's class.

Update 2

If yesterday was day zero, day one is going pretty well. I guess I expected to be in more pain than I actually am. I don't know if arthroscopic surgery really isn't terribly painful -- or I have an unusually high tolerance for pain -- but I feel no worse than I did the day after I did Steelhead in 2006. Bruised, beat-up, sore, exhausted and nauseated, sure -- but nothing intolerable.

I'm sure that when I'm allowed to shower (Sunday!) and take off my bandages (tomorrow!) I'll start feeling more like myself, and maybe even ready to leave the house for an errand or two with Brad.

Checking in

Apparently, vidocin is not my "thing." I should have suspected I wouldn't tolerate it well, since two members of my immediate family have had bad reactions to it. Instead of feeling blissfully relaxed, I've spent most of the evening praying for the room to stop spinning and my stomach to stop feeling like I just got off the Millenium Force. And it doesn't do much for my pain.

On a happier note, my friend Katie stopped over and brought me a thoughtful gift for the lazy and bored...slang flashcards. I made my "no baked goods while couch-bound" rule clear (I had about four people offer to bring me cookies or brownies...um, yeah, that's JUST what I need!), so this was the perfect, calorie-free get-well gift.

Success!

It's over! I'm sitting here on the couch, marveling at the mitten I just finished (yes, mitten = singular. I made a few mistakes during the learning process, so I figure I'll use this as my "training mitten" and start a real pair tomorrow, now that I sorta know what I'm doing). But anyway...yeah, the surgery. Not the mitten.

I was amazed at how quickly the whole thing went, considering how slowly things typically move in the U.S. healthcare system. Brad drove me to the hospital bright and early. I had my knitting with me in anticipation of a wait, but they took me back into the prep room before I could even say "my mom isn't here yet!"

I changed into a very fashionable gown that only tied around my neck and left the rest flapping in the breeze, verified a billion times that it was, in fact, my LEFT knee, winced when they put in an IV, and then chilled out (ha! I was so nervous I was actually shaking) under some warm blankets. They let Brad and mom come back for awhile, just in time for them to hear me answer some very embarrassing health-related questions. Sweet.

The anisthesiologist resident, who was just as easy on the eyes as someone straight out of Grey's, stopped by to talk about the sedation process. My terror was increasing by the minute (a pump down my throat to put air in my lungs?!?), so he gave me a shot of some medicine to relax me. When it first hit, it actually made me feel dizzy and disoriented, but after a couple minutes, it did the job and made me feel like I'd just downed a martini at Cafe Felix, at which point I think I said, "why did I quit drinking?" I vaguely remember my surgeon stopping by, and kinda recall saying good-bye to my family. Apparently, I was blabbering my head off for about 15 minutes, but I have no memory of that. Oh lord.

I also have a brief flash of moving from the gurney onto the operating table, although I don't remember being wheeled into the OR. They put what the nurse called an "oxygen" mask on my face and told me to breathe deeply. (They did the same thing when I had my tonsils out. Something tells me the mask was not, in fact, filled with oxygen. I'm so gullible!) And then I woke up.

I only remember bits and pieces of the recovery room. I woke up and was all, "it's over? Seriously?" But I checked, and there it was -- a huge bandage on my leg (the correct leg, thank you). Then I realized my leg was throbbing like hell. It was maybe a 7 out of 10 on the pain scale. The nurse gave me two pills to swallow and put some extra stuff in my IV, and it felt better almost immediately. Over the next half-hour or so, a bunch of things happened that I remember in random flashes: Brad and my mom coming back, peeing with a nurse in the room, and feeling horribly guilty that I was "taking someone's spot" because I wasn't ready to leave yet. (??) Brad said I asked the nurse about eight times if she was absolutely positive it was OK to stay in recovery for a little bit longer. Honestly, I was just freezing and the warm blankets felt awesome.

My doctor stopped by and said everything went wonderfully. Now, it's all a little fuzzy, but I'm 99% sure he said "I saw what was rubbing and has been causing your pain, so I cut it out. I also cleaned up the scar tissue around it." I SO hope that's what he said, at least. I have a follow-up appointment on Monday, so I'll know for sure after that. He also said my thigh is pretty swollen, so to keep an eye on it and go to the ER if it gets worse. Four hours later, it hasn't gotten any worse and doesn't hurt, so I think it's probably okay.

The nurse wheeled me out to the car and Brad helped me climb in. I stretched out across the backseat, my knee propped up on pillows. I couldn't quite figure out how to fasten the seatbelt in my precarious position, so I made Brad pinkie-swear he'd drive safely. (He drives like a grandma anyway, so it was a joke.)

I was pretty groggy on the way home, but as soon as we got there, I had a big mug of coffee -- thank GOD. Apparently coffee counteracts the hydrocodone drowsiness, because I couldn't really fall asleep after that. I'm due for another pill in 30 minutes, so hopefully I'll be able to crash after that.

Overall, I'm just sore, stiff and drowsy, but I definitely wouldn't say I'm in horrible pain. I'm sure it'll get worse tonight -- from my two previous surgery experiences, that was what tended to happen. But the bottom line is, it's over, it (apparently) went well, and I have no idea what I said or did when I was under the effect of my Cafe Felix Martini. Oh, and I now know how to knit a mitten.