A Helping Hand

As I stood up to go to my first class Wednesday morning, I heard my phone ringing deep within my purse. Deciding that I had time to take a quick call before starting class, I answered. B told me that he was at loose ends today, so he was coming to my house to do the gardening in the front yard. I was speechless: my front yard was so overgrown that doing yardwork was going to be a huge undertaking. I demurred, explaining that B didn't have to do that, but he said, "You cannot do it, but you'll try to do it, and then you'll hurt yourself again. Forget it: I'm on my way."

My front yard was so overgrown that there was no longer a path through the vegetation; half the sidewalk was hidden under the creepers; the brick outline of the middle section was completely covered in sand; and the front door could no longer be used as either an entrance or an exit as it was ferociously guarded by an out-of-control bougainvilla bush!
Believe me when I say I was flabbergasted when I drove into the driveway at the end of my workday. B was working with his Lady L, and both of them were covered in sweat and sand. The piles of debris were huge, the result of cutting down all the vegetation to stumps with a few leaves clinging valiantly to what's left. The pathway through the front yard is now so wide that troops could hold maneuvers!

B told me that if I blogged about it, I would exaggerate, and I told him "no way," I'll just tell the truth about the massacre at Liza Land. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! Okay, so the translation is actually wow: the front yard looks so good! I cannot believe how much work they did and what a difference it makes in the landscaping.

B and his Lady came back Thursday to finish up (yeah, there really is that much gardening to do), including shoveling up the doggie doo in the doggie run. We should have had a pool on how much product there is since I haven't been out in about 2 months. I do know that there is so much poo that I can smell it from the front yard, not a good way to impress the neighborhood.

I was at the dr office in the morning for my final injection and a consultation to determine if a partial knee replacement is in my future or a life of constant nagging pain from the torn meniscus or a middle ground that I can live with and not have to take pain pills every 4 hours. We're coming up on a full year since the injury, and that's too long to live with constant pain and increasing knee instability. Basically, the injections have done for the bone erosion what they are going to do, with maximum benefit coming in another 4 weeks. The effects of the injection will slowly wear off as the lubricant is absorbed into my body, at which time I'll have the torn meniscus repaired again, and then have a partial knee replacement or another round of injections. Perhaps there will come a day -- soon -- when I'll be able to keep up my own house and property again!

I not only am thankful to B for being a part of my life, but I am also grateful for the help that B gives repeatedly and always with a smile. Thanks, B, and your Lady L.