Looky here, Bobert. Backaways I needed to get the inside of my right knee cleaned up -- I'd fallen and ripped the shit out of the meniscus (some of the cushioning stuff in there). The doc thought so, and the MRI said so. So I got 'er done. They went in using an incision one-half inch long (if you can't picture half an inch, it's about half the length of the middle joint of your right hand index finger). I was out cold from both the drugs and that open-down-the-back hospital gown. When I woke up I walked down to the car (they wanted to use a wheelchair but I said no), went home, dropped the ol' Vicodin, found out that I really, really fly on that stuff, and two days later I was back at work. Yeah, I had some PT and yeah, in the beginning it was painful. But my right knee is cool now and about as good as a 63 year old joint gets.

Now it's the turn of my left knee. So if the MRI shows that cuttin' is the best thing to do and a doc or two agree, they gonna cut me. I'll do all that shit that I did before, including the Vicodin, man.

The worst that can happen is that the docs agree that I need a knee replacement and I don't think that's gonna happen.

Well, I mean, I could die on the table, only it ain't all that likely. Anyway, you know what it says in Mark 13:33 and places like that. So if it's gotta be done, git 'er done. Matthew 14:27.