Really, Nobody Fucking Cares

My knee has not been pain-free for even one day since April 8.

Used to be, in The Before Times, B.S (Before Surgery) - my knee would sometimes hurt a lot, sometimes hurt a little, sometimes not hurt at all. That was a wonderful period in my life. Magical.

I am making progress. Last Sunday I was finally able to walk around the house on the knee. Some pain, some discomfort, but I could discard the crutches for short periods. I have pushed it every day since. Some pain, some discomfort. But I am barely using the crutches. In the house.

Can't walk around outside like a normal person, though. Still rely on the crutches.

Got another fucking appointment with Dr. WTF on May 4. I better be completely free of crutches by then. Or he dies.

This will be a dangerous appointment. I have raised a ruckus. After the last appointment, when he gave me a shot of cortisone and promised me the pain would go away in an hour - which it did not, it didn't even subside - I delivered a scathing review of "my recent visit to Concord Hospital."

Got a call from the surgeon a day or two later. And a call from the head nurse.

Doctors hate being questioned or criticized because they have a God complex.

"So I ask you, when someone goes into that chapel and they fall on their knees and they pray to God that their wife doesn't miscarry, or that their daughter doesn't bleed to death, or that their mother doesn't suffer acute neural trauma from postoperative shock, who do you think they're praying to? Now, you go ahead and read your Bible, Dennis, and you go to your church and with any luck you might win the annual raffle. But if you're looking for God, he was in operating room number two on November 17th, and he doesn't like to be second guessed.

You ask me if I have a God complex? Let me tell you something. I AM GOD."

Alec Baldwin as Dr. Jed Hill in Malice.

If Dr. WTF whips out a foot long syringe, I will bash his head in with a baseball bat. 

Every time I feel like I have made a great and meaningful stride forward - I get a surge of pain. A twinge, sometimes more. I am off-balance. There is no rhyhm to the recovery. I'll have a pretty good day; the next day it feels like I have regressed.

And I walk around like the knee is made from Waterford Crystal. I am leery. Like if I get too confident the knee will shatter and, following leg amputation, I will be the only one-legged man in the box office.

That is today's update.

Do with it what you will.