I forgot to mention about my wonderful doctor. The night I was released, he came in to talk to me. When the serious discussion was winding down, I said, “Did you save my hip bone you cut off? Gary and I were hoping to polish it and use it for a gear shift in our ’67 Camero.”
Doc got an uber serious look on his face, carefully settled himself on the arm of a chair and said, “In the United States, we have very strict laws about how medical waste can and must be handled. According to the law, we absolutely have to –”
Before my eyes could start rolling back in my head, I interrupted him. “I was just joking, Doc. I didn’t really want it.”
A look of pure relief came over his face, as if he’d quickly prepared himself for a battle that he suddenly didn’t have to fight. Poor guy. No sense of humor, but a fantastic physician. (That’s the way it should be, huh?)
I could envision polishing the ball joint and giving John MyCane a cute little nose, but I didn’t tell super doc that.