I kneed surgery

It was bound to happen.  I am not exactly a trim little slip of a lad, and while I was once a disc jockey, I would never be mistaken for a jockey, so my knee replacement, which dated back to the millennial year 2000, needs to be replaced now.

My future

This should put an end to the limping that I've been strutting around with for the past few months, and once the physical therapy and all that commotion is over with, I will once again be ambling about smoothly, gliding through life with the briskness that once marked my pace.

My lunch

The staff at Sinai Hospital should keep an eye on the admissions chart for early May and plan their vacations accordingly.  I don't like being in the hospital, although my past stays have always been rich in comedy material, once the stitches and staples came out.  And of course, what hospital staffer wouldn't enjoy hearing me say, "What is this on my plate?  I ordered the Chateaubriand!"?

Just kidding.  I don't expect great food on a plate in the hospital.  Last time, I woke up from surgery to see the beaming face of a beautiful nurse staring at my eyes.  At first I thought, uh-oh, something went wrong, this is an angel and I'm in heaven.  But then I heard Oprah chortling on the tv and I knew that was not the case.

Due to some sort of mixup, they brought me a dinner plate, while I was still on an IV drip, and in seconds, an orderly grabbed that tray away from my table like Manny Machado scooping up a hot grounder...but not before I snagged the dinner roll, which I hid beneath my pillow and nibbled on through the night.

As always, the real angel in my life, Peggy, will come through like the champ she is, helping me dress, putting on those daggone tight white socks, bringing me tea and biscuits.  All the while, she can count on hearing those four special words that mean so much to any woman:

"Peggy, is that you?"

I can't hardly wait!