Ponderous thoughts I was pondering while remembering what it's like to come out of anesthesia ...
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| Not the prettiest knee in the world, but soon it will feel better. |
Yes, I know you've probably heard as much as you care to hear about my injured left knee, but this story is coming to a close. Surgery has been scheduled for next Tuesday, Aug. 11. It will be an arthroscopic procedure and it won't suddenly turn me into someone about whom Usain Bolt would ever have to worry -- as my surgeon said today, "We're not going for 17 here ..." -- but at least it should relieve most of the problems that are plaguing me right now, and the good folks from Bayer will do the rest as we go forward.
You know, I forgot to ask today for permission to use my surgeon's name on the blog or podcasts. I doubt there will be objections, but I just want to do it the right way. My surgeon is quite accomplished and I'm lucky to be able to avail myself of that person's skills, but I'll wait until I actually get the OK before spilling the beans.
When the knife comes out, the goal will be to clean out the damaged portions of the meniscus and do a few necessary repairs if needed. It shouldn't take much more than a half-hour, and it will be performed overlooking Gillette Stadium, at the Brigham and Women's/Mass. General Health Center in Foxboro. I won't be able to do much for about a week or two, I'm told, but the recovery time should be relatively swift.
And to think -- this could have all been done in 1972 at Evanston Hospital in Evanston, Ill., if there was such a thing as arthroscopic surgery in those days. When I injured the knee initially, I was told by surgeons that the options were wearing a hip-to-ankle cast for about six months, or enduring a lifetime of discomfort because of the damage that would eventually heal, but not fully.
I chose the latter, and they were right. By the time I was into my mid-30s, my ability to challenge the knee on the treadmills at the former Sheraton-Mansfield's health club had ended. Believe it or not, I could run about three miles at my best, not bad for a 220-pounder -- but once the pain became too severe, that 220 shot up significantly thereafter and has never come back down.
Now, I just want to be able to walk, mow my lawn and go up and down the basement steps to do my laundry without fearing that the knee will lock or give out and something really bad will happen as a result.
I'm picking a good time to get this done. Thanks to the pandemic, the good folks at the Associated Press aren't understaffed and therefore have no immediate need for my services during this training camp for the Patriots. And if there is a high school football season, and we're allowed to cablecast the games, I should be sufficiently healed to be able to make it to my broadcast location and do the job standing, if necessary, without too much discomfort.
I will have to postpone my plans to reseal my driveway, but those might be better left for September anyway, given the forecasts for a resumption of really hot weather next week.
In any event, I think I surprised my surgeon's assistant a little when she asked me if I was sure I wanted to do it so soon. Give me the gas and wake me up when it's done. No sense in wasting time and thinking about it; I've had other body parts removed before and I don't miss them.
** After my visit with the surgeon today, I went to Emerald Square in North Attleboro looking to replace the batteries in a few watches that had gone dead during the middle months of this seemingly endless pandemic. Fortunately, the places that perform that service are still open; the rest of the mall looks like downtown Brockton from all the empty storefronts that are a harsh reminder of the state of brick-and-mortar stores today.
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| Just wear the damned mask. |
Anyway, as I strolled, I looked carefully at how individuals were complying with mask-wearing regulations -- and it wasn't good.
Most adults (people I'd suggest were age 30 and up) were dutifully wearing protective masks, most like my own (see accompanying photo). But the young people were either wearing them with nose exposed or down below the chin.
Or, as in the case of three low-life males that happened to be at the same jewelry store as me, some were not wearing them at all. Again, I felt like saying something to these twerps ... but they looked like the types that would have no problem with harassing an old man for the remainder of my time in the mall, and I'm not willing to become a YouTube or TikTok star against my will for getting into a row with them -- especially since the condition of my knee would probably send me to the floor at the first need for lateral movement.
Funny, I didn't see too many security guards in the mall. But then again, I didn't see too many people in the mall, either. And to think, when the mall opened in 1989, The Sun Chronicle was so convinced that the advertising was going to be such a windfall, it would keep the paper alive for 100 more years. That's why we started the Sunday paper, in fact.
You know what they say. Video killed the radio star.
** Did you hear the nonsense coming out of Donald Trump's mouth today?
In a trip to Ohio to the plant where Whirlpool washing machines were made (I'm old enough to remember when those were "RCA Whirlpool"), Trump went off on one of his campaign tirades and said, among many other stupid things, that Democrat nominee Joe Biden wants to "hurt the Bible," "hurt God" and eliminate religion.
Biden, needless to say, is a devout Catholic who has been to Mass more times in a month than Trump has been in a church in his lifetime. The only things that have prevented Biden from attending services lately are the coronavirus restrictions that have kept intelligent people of faith safe from harm.
It never ceases to amaze me how many truly stupid Americans there are that have somehow placed their faith in a serial philanderer and a man without any semblance of moral fiber.
Yeah, we have a few nitwits of that sort in our little corner of Massachusetts, too. But when they give me grief about being a "libtard" (and more on that word shortly), I just remind them that they live in a state where the latest statewide polls show Biden with a 32-percentage-point lead over Trump. That's 32 points. That means that if about 3.2 million people go to the polls, 2.1 million would be voting for Biden and 1.1 million for Mr. Mushroom.
And in the last election, Hillary Clinton won the state by a 60-33 margin.
Don't like it, my friends from the GOP? Move. There aren't enough morons in Mississippi or Montana, I guess. And Florida embraces stupidity like it's a virtue.
** Speaking of "libtard," I find that word offensive -- not because I happen to be of mostly liberal political thought, but because the "-tard" part is obviously a denigrating reference to someone that might be mentally, physically or emotionally challenged. Trump and his mean-spirited supporters love to make sport of the disabilities of others, so I have made it a crusade of sorts to report Facebook users for hate speech every time I see it in a thread of anti-progressive rants.
Well, that backfired on me. One conservative snowflake reported me instead, claiming I was bullying him. So while Facebook won't remove "libtard" from the public discourse, it will scold me for trying to uphold some sort of dignity in the conversation.
OK, OK, I'll come clean. I told the poster to "GFY." I just used the three letters. I didn't get suspended, but I bet I will at some point. I'm not ashamed. I meant it.
Hey Facebook? You suck.
** So, before I get thrown off this arm of social media, don't forget to check out my podcasts, the audio "The Owner's Box" and the video "The Owner's Box After Dark." Links can still be found on Twitter if Zuckerberg gives me the boot, and you can subscribe to the audio podcast on Apple Podcasts and several other popular podcasting platforms.
I'll check in before the first incision, I promise. Stay safe and wear those masks!
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