Apparently I was cursed, the pain in my knee was the infection returning so that Monday I went into the hospital and had the knee removed and replaced with a spacer that’s full of antiboiotics. In about six months I’ll have a new knee put in. Hope that one works. I’m home from the hospital now, dealing with the inconvieniences of having a knee that won’t bend and not being able to put any wieght on on leg.

Last night, my pal Steve and I were drawn to the Jewish cemetery in the neighborhood, one of them that is, there are two right next to each other, with different names and entrances. We were drawn by what appeared to be the sun setting in the East. When we got up to the highest point which is probably the highest point in the Northwest Suburbs, we discovered it was the sunset reflecting off buildings downtown! But an even more interesting discovery was a gravestone with the name “Geshundheit” on it. I’ll bet that was good for some laughs.

We didn’t defile any graves or anything and tried to be respectful, so I don’t think I’ve been cursed. Maybe it was the uneven ground and the hill walking. I woke up this morning with a pain right in the middle of my knee cap that so far two vicoden and four Ibuprophen haven’t even dented. Nothing goes better with pain than a joke so…

A lion walks into a bar, sits down next to a hooker and orders a Martini for himself and one for the hooker. Soon they are in a deep conversation, but suddenly the lion jumps off his stool, knocks the hooker down and eats her. He calmly gets back on his stool and orders another Martini, which he knocks back in one gulp and then falls off the barstool and crashes to the floor unconscious, barely breathing. The bartender runs around the bar and gives the lion smelling salts and mouth to mouth and after some considerable effort revives the lion. The lion, extremely groggy asks the bartender what happened to him. When told he was unconscious for several minutes, he what the hell caused it. To which the bartender replied…

“Must have been the bar bitch you ate.”

And now for a movie recommendaton. Last night we watched The Proposition, a dark and violent “western” set in 1880’s Australia. A good story well acted, it’s one of those movies that you could take almost any frame and have a great photograph. A humerous detail is a stagecoach being pulled by a team of camels.

Tomorrow I get my PICC line removed. You know the plastic tube that has had me tethered to an antibiotic pump 24/7 for the last six weeks. It’s going to be great to not haves to deal with my little mechanical belly bag everytime I want to take crap or go to bed or put on a shirt or almost anything. It will be great because I can take a shower without wrapping my arm in plastic wrap and tape.

But I will no longer be awash in oxicillan. Which means if there’s some little pocket of staph lurking in some cranny of my mechanical knee…. I’m fucked. It’s out with the knee for three months and then if I’m lucky they can put a new one in. Doctors are quoting 70-30 odds in my favor. My blood tests look good, the knee looks good. So if you’re the prayin’ kind, say a couple for me. If not wish me luck!

I hope I get to keep this knee cause I’m growing fond of it. It already works better than the old one, and I have to say that now it’s my good knee. I have more pain in the real one than the artificial one now and I’m walking without a limp on that side for the first time in about 20 years. I’m also taller, because I can straighten it out. And something about being able to straighten it out pushes my chest out and shoulders back so I have much better posture.

So Mr. Staph bug… stay away!

Let’s take a vote who wants to see a picture of my scar?