It’s May 31st and I am having surgery today. This young doctor who, in my eyes, looks as if he’s about 14, is going in and replacing my 73-year-old right hip with a brand new one.
Many of my friends say it’s no big deal. They tell me stories of Uncle Joe or their next door neighbor who walked out of the hospital the same day and took their wife out dancing the following weekend. Other friends, without a request from me, whispered tales of wheelchairs for life and a continuing bunch of surgeries to fix the errors created by the original operation. One guy even slipped me a card of a great trial attorney from Boston “just in case.”
I made a huge mistake and did a google search to find out more information. I got more tidbits of knowledge and advice than I ever dreamed. I skipped right over the more research-based stuff from Mayo Clinic and Cleveland Clinic to the folks who were more creative storytellers. How stupid can I be! This is not how a good Boy Scout back in my days would have chosen to follow the code, “Be prepared.”
So I’ll catch you guys on the other side on Monday. I’ve already asked Sherry to a square dance in Reno a week from Friday. I’ve never been able to dance a lick but, hey, I’ll have a brand new hip.