Back when he was 7, my son wrote this poem called 3 on a Nee which I will not translate for you, especially since some of the words still continue to puzzle me after several decades (shech? What is shech?). Just know that he was a child who loved numbers and when he said that "you are as good as 2+4=6," you knew that you had been complimented.I just can't help myself. I've got nees on my mind. Some surgeon that I hardly know plans to remove some parts of my body next Monday--parts that I've had for a very, very long time--and is going to replace them with some fancy titanium bits. I've loved my nees, sorry, my knees for all these years, even when they hurt me. After all, they taught me some important life lessons. People don't limp just because one leg is shorter than the other, as I had always assumed in my frivolous, unthinking way. Lots of people endure pain every single day of their lives. And doctors aren't magic, they can't always take the pain away.
Now this surgeon, the one I hardly know, is going to inflict more pain with the hope of making things better. We'll see.
WARNING: Do not look at the following photo unless you are a medical student or a devoted watcher of House or any other TV medical drama. Do not look if you are queasy.
I just had to share this photo of an acquaintance's knee after knee replacement surgery, because this is the sort of thing that is on my mind these days. That incision is longer than usual because of several prior knee fixes. I'm hoping that my incision will be much shorter. I'm considering offering my assistance to this surgeon, because I have surely watched more House episodes than he has, and am thus uniquely qualified to take my place in the operating room. On the other hand, he may have other plans for my role there.
