So I walk like a Penguin. What of it?

My hubby, who has been ultra-attentive during my recuperation, finally made fun of me this evening as I walked in the door from work. Yes, I still have a limp. And toward the end of the day when I've got my computer bag and purse on my right shoulder hovering over my surgicalized knee, my evening limp is worse than my morning limp. In fact, when I first get up in the morning now, my first thought is NOT about my wounded knee. I get up, head for the bathroom, and only after my fifth step now do I realize that: Oh, yeah, I had knee surgery almost a month ago and my knee is stiff and woe is me. As the day progresses my knee can get a little ornery if I'm doing too much walking or--as I did yesterday--try to climb stairs. So by the end of the day my knee is at its weakest and my limp takes on a wobble. Like a penguin, I guess. Like an extra tipsy penguin. Hubby was at the dinner table as I came in tonight. And as I entered the dining room he started bobbing his head back and forth like a lovesick cockatiel. I suppose he was mimicking the rhythm of my new gait, but--frankly--at that moment I was not the silliest person in the room.

And my co-workers seem to enjoy charting my progress, too. Everyday someone says, "Your limp isn't as bad now." So I guess that's proof that I'm healing...or mastering the fine art of a graceful limp. An aunt of mine said that a limp is "distinguished." While I appreciate her attempt to console me while I bob around, I think her analysis would be more apt for some mysterious European viscount...not this suburban mother from San Jose.