A hole in the space-time continuum. (Notes by M.C. O'Connor.)
18 April 2007
M.C. thought 30 days was a sentence. Dr. Howard called me last night after I sent him the MRI report on my knee. He said "do nothing for 3-6 months." Yikes! That is PRISON! He reminded me in his firmly gentle way that I could spend that time "writing more stories." Yeah, OK, fine. I write Stephen King-like stories about men going mad in front of their typewriters from lack of recreation??? No mountain biking. No softball. No hiking. Hell, no WALKING!!! Saints preserve us, what is a man to do? I suppose I should look at the bright side: no pushing the damn lawnmower, no attacking the woods with a chainsaw, no digging drainage ditches. All necessary tasks, but not exactly FUN. Now I understand the appeal of surgery--the "quick fix." At XLVII, I'm not sure anything is a "quick fix," but arthroscopy does have a good track record for reducing pain and getting you back into your normal routine. Dr. H is a non-invasive physician, he likes the big picture, the long haul. Like me he is concerned that once you start slicing off bits of yourself there is no going back. Hmmm, maybe there is a story in that. The Man Who Sliced Himself Away. I expect TPP readers willget bored with my knee lamentations, so I'll keep the updates well-spaced. I'll use my 3-6 months to read some more and write some more. A little voice in my head from Jimmy Lerner (see my first post) keeps saying "you got nuthin' comin', dawg!"