Friday, March 28
All Is, Well...
"THE war that I prefer." Also translated into French. There's two lines of Italian at the top, but it's too hard to read the print well enough to stick it in a translator. Like the man said, who'd have suspected that fifty years after the war we'd be buying Japanese electronics, driving German cars, and performing cunnilingus?
Thanks for all the good wishes. I did wake up, though apparently about a half-hour later than they expected. I'm about 50% more hobbled than before, and soreness is starting to set in, making it advisable not to sit or lie in one position for very long, but the doc said I could walk on it as I saw fit. He said that in the presence of my Poor Wife, but it didn't take; she's been on my case every time I get up to do something for myself. I getting around with my cane. The crutches are a bit much for motoring between three rooms. The prep nurse wanted me to get a walker, due to my advancing years. That was probably the worst part of the whole experience.
Even though my relationship with allopathy remains chilly, I must say I marvel every time I come into contact with its workers, who do a difficult job with a near-universal good cheer, and always laugh at my jokes.
Too painful right now to consider sitting long enough to write. Enjoy the weekend.