Of course, if I don't post for a week, how would anyone know the difference? I fear I've averaged no better than a couple of posts per week for years now. Quality, I suppose, is more important than quantity, but that doesn't matter at this blog, where both are often lacking.
I didn't post about this when it happened, because I wanted to avoid -- for once -- the self-pity trap. However, it's a do-over on my avulsed quad tendon tomorrow. I had a freakishly-improbable accident while in a physical therapy session last week that re-avulsed it ... no remedy other than the same surgery again. In fact, nauseatingly enough, I believe the plan is to cut through the very same scar, the idea of which distresses me about as much as any other part of this -- I'm not sure why. I'm just glad I'll be deep in chemically-powered sleep while they're committing this particular atrocity.
Meanwhile, Mort Chien has left another lengthy comment on the post below, which is well beyond my ability to coherently comment on this evening ... I seem to be a bit preoccupied. Interested persons are invited to go read it. In a few days, I hope to be in a position to respond in some not-too-inadequate way. Mort, I should have let you know: I was originally supposed to get cut up Tuesday, but was rescheduled for tomorrow: game time currently set at 11:45 am. Any prayer you have time for will be appreciated. It's a low-risk procedure, and I'm quite prepared to dutifully cling to life with whatever will I have; however, I noticed last time that when the chemicals put you to sleep, they do so suddenly, completely, and authoritatively. I think a person could easily die in such sleep without being aware of it at all.
Everybody stay warm, now.