You know, walking is vastly overrated. You’d think by now we would have come up with a cure for it. I mean, I’ve walked all over the place for more than 50 years now, where else do I really have to go?
Been there, done that. It’s about time that people and places started coming to me. Yeah.
For two days, I’ve been staring at a large piece of me – my right leg – laying as if it were dead to me. They call it a pain block. Freaky feeling for sure, but it had its advantages. First and foremost, if I didn’t feel my leg, I also didn’t feel what had been done to it.
I found out what that was around 2:30 a.m. Woke me up out of dead sleep. If my knee had a face, it would have been Al Pacino’s Tony Montoya, smiling up at me.
“Let me introduce you to my leeeettle frien’!”
I called for backup. Grabbed the TV remote/light-turner-on-er/GET ME A FREAKIN NURSE NOW thingie. They anticipated my call. There was a button marked PAIN.
“Can i help you?”
Oh yeah you can – either you can get the number of the ambulance that just ran over my leg, or grab the nearest sterile hand grenade, pull the hypo-allergenic pin and toss it in here! Latex gloves optional!
“I’ll bring you something for the pain.”
God bless you – anything, as long as it’s lethal.
“Oh, Mr.Waterman, you’re so funny.”
Nice to know I can maintain my sense of humor in the face of such excruciating adversity. I ought to have them rolling in the halls when they have me try walking later today.
Anybody know the words to “Tears of a Clown”?