12 August 2004
Just scraping by
"It's not a question of if you'll need that knee replaced," said the doctor. "It's a question of when."
Okay, then. When?
"By the time you're sixty," he said. Nine years and odd, at best.
In the meantime, there is arthroscopy and, um, debridement. (As in debris, which will presumably be removed.) It's a simple procedure, I am assured, but all it does, really, is buy me some time.
And I'm fine with that. I don't think it will keep me from having to have the whole nine yards within the next nine years, but never underestimate my capacity for procrastination. (And if you do, take your time doing it.)Posted at 6:41 PM to General Disinterest