A Note from Fatty: I have a few items of business to bring up before I get to the main topic of today’s post.

I Am Tardy
To those of you I owe t-shirts and socks to, from contests reaching all the way back into October — I’m sorry, but I’ve decided to not send them to you.

Just kidding.

Actually, I finally sent them today. Yes, even the one to Australia. Thank you all for your patience with my procrastinating self.

Return of the Biker Babes
Susan got an awesome card in the mail Saturday from my sister Kellene and all her riding friends, the self-named “Biker Babes.” Check this out (click photo for larger version):

Colorado Biker Babes

I admit to being slightly disappointed that Kellene didn’t persuade them all to do a jumping version of this photo. Mostly, though, I’m just really touched by this incredible show of support for my wife — a solidarity a huge number of people have shown.

Drink Up
Several of you have asked what the new Fat Cyclist bottles look like. They look like this:


What a dramatic shot!

It took me nine hours to get them stacked like that. Time well spent, if you ask me.

Now I need to figure out a good way to give some of these away. Anyone got a good idea for a contest?

OK, now on to the main subject of today’s post: how Susan’s doing.

Recovering from six months of chemotherapy is not easy. Recovering from a hip replacement is not easy. Getting a hip replacement literally one week after six months of chemotherapy is ridiculous, frankly.

But Susan’s handling it really well. She gets around well on her crutches, and — briefly — walked a little using just a cane today. She no longer rides the stairlift; she prefers going up and down the stairs using her crutches (anyone wanna buy a barely-used stairlift?).

The nicest thing about all this, though, is that Susan has — for the first time since the cancer recurred — a whole month without a single doctor appointment.

That said, there’s a lot of frustration for her. The first sentence Susan ever spoke was, “I can do it myself,” so as you might expect, Susan hates having to ask me for help on stuff you don’t even think about: putting on pants, putting on socks and shoes. It doesn’t bother me at all to help with things like that, but it drives Susan nuts to have to ask.

It’s not easy for her to get comfortable. Ask yourself: “If I had a clear-to-the-bone 16″-long incision on my left buttcheek, would I be able to sit in a chair?”

Hint: the answer is, “No.”

So Susan doesn’t get around much right now. And, unfortunately, she wouldn’t let me post a picture of the incision or rather extraordinary bruise she’s got. Pfff.

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