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Report: “A-Rod’s Recovery Way Ahead Of Schedule”
According to the Daily News, A-Rod is doing well following surgery less than a week ago. “He’s in a good frame of mind,” said Joe Girardi.
Yeah, but how good? That’s what I wanted to know. The Daily News article mentioned that the patient is no longer dependent on these…
and that he’s about to continue his post-surgery rehab here.
But come on, what else? I needed more details than that. So I hopped on a plane back to Colorado and went in search of A-Rod to gauge his recovery for myself.
I landed in Vail, a picturesque village whose mountains were still capped with snow.
After getting my bearings (the flight was very turbulent), I asked the townspeople if they could direct me to A-Rod.
“He’s renting the Miller estate,” said the guy wearing the white cap.
I asked for the address, which he was kind enough to write down on a piece of paper for me.
“You can’t miss it,” he said. “It’s on the market for $10 million. This A-Rod of yours must be loaded.”
“He’s comfortable,” I replied. My mother taught me never to say the word “rich.”
I took a cab to the Miller estate.
I rang the bell and waited several minutes until a man – not Cousin Yuri but a butler – answered the door.
“Um, hi,” I said. “Is A-Rod home? Tell him it’s She-Fan just checking on his progress.”
“Mr. Rodriguez is not here,” he said. “He is engaging in some rather intensive rehabilitation for his hip.”
“Could you tell me where I could find him?”
“I suppose.”
Reluctantly, he gave me an address and off I went – only to be shocked by what I discovered. A-Rod was not only walking without crutches; he was walking really fast.
I tried to keep up, so I could pepper him with questions, but he got away from me.
An hour later, I tracked him down and was even more shocked when I saw how rigorously he was rehabbing in the pool.
I tried to speak to him, but he was underwater. And as soon as he came up for air, he was gone again – this time to a place where I couldn’t reach him.
“A-ROD!” I called up to him. “DON’T YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE PUSHING IT?”
He ignored me. When I turned away, only for an instant, he was gone yet again. Apparently, there was another exercise program on his agenda.
“YOU NEED SUPERVISION!” I yelled to him. “SOMEBODY SHOULD BE SPOTTING YOU!”
I hailed another cab and followed him to a local skating rink. This time he was not exercising alone.
Wow, I thought. This man is bionic.
After A-Rod and his partner finished their routine, they went back to the Miller estate to relax.
I felt like an intruder, but I asked him how he was feeling.
“Good,” he said. “Better than good. Please tell Yankee fans that my recovery is way ahead of schedule.”
“Will do.”
I was about to leave when A-Rod got up from the table and said he wanted to prove just how ahead-of-schedule his recovery is. All I can say is, I hope Dr. Phillipon knows what he’s doing.
What Really Went On During A-Rod’s Stay At The Clinic
How do I know what went on? I was there.
Yes, I said I was flying home to California on Monday after nearly a week at spring training, but I changed my itinerary at the last minute and traveled, instead, to Vail, CO, where A-Rod was just being prepped for surgery.
“Is it all right if I observe?” I asked breathlessly as they were wheeling the Yankees third baseman into the O.R. Apparently, I arrived just in time.
“Are you a family member?” said Dr. Phillipon, eying me warily.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m Yankee She-Fan.” I fished my iPhone out of my bag and showed the doctor my blog.
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “As long as you’re not squeamish, you’re welcome to watch.”
So I watched.
The surgery went well, from what I could tell. I mean, I saw the torn labrum in the beginning and then stood there in amazement as Dr. Phillipon sewed it together with a ball of this
and covered the incision with a roll of this.
“Mr. Rodriguez will be playing baseball for the Yankees in May,” said the doctor. “No doubt.”
I waited with A-Rod in the recovery room, where he was given a healthy dose of this to ease the pain.
Later, in his private room, he was able to sit up in bed and watch a little TV.
By noon, he felt well enough to eat the lunch I’d brought. It was actually something I’d picked up on my American Airlines flight and saved for him. He seemed very grateful, although he was still a bit groggy.
By mid-afternoon, Dr. Phillipon said A-Rod was ready to begin his rehab.
“Already?” I said protectively. “It’s only been a few hours since you operated.”
“I know what I’m doing, Ms. She-Fan. You want him back on the Yankees or not?”
“Of course,” I said. “I didn’t mean to -”
Before I could finish my sentence, A-Rod was working out on the stationery bike that had been delivered to his room.
“Are you sure you’re up to this sort of strenuous activity?” I asked the patient.
“Don’t nag me,” he snapped. “I’m not into women who nag.”
I felt stung. I was only trying to be helpful, nurturing, even mothering. But he had just pissed me off. “And what sort of women are you into?” I snapped back.
Just then, she walked in.
“Would you excuse us?” she said. “I have to change his dressing.”
“No problem,” I said and flew home to California after all.
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