Eight Cylinders

I've never spent the night in a hospital. Well, except for last night after a bit of neurosurgeon artistry.

Interesting place. They give you meds, put you in a nice warm bed, and admonish you to get lots of "rest"? Then they spend the entire night coming in to take your "vitals", make you arise and walk up and down the hall (in a backless table cloth), and prove you can "pee"????

Not sure what that last part had to do with spine surgery, but surely it was related in some way???

Not much to it. Three inch scalpel whack across the neck and shove all inside to the side and duct tape it to the bedpost. Then pry out a vertebra or two and slap them puppies on a Black and Decker belt sander to smooth 59 years of calcium build-up. Cram 'em back in the hole and spin the cordless drill on four titanium screws to weld the "Atlantis Shield" (????) to "fuse" the adjoining offenders. What could be more simple???

Course there is the minor matter of all them guts/stuff between the incision and the vertebra being mortally pissed off at the intrusion. Makes a feller learn to appreciate ice packs, hydro codeine, and a dark, quiet room.

Anywho, the ole ranch hand is on the mend with confidence of hitting on eight cylinders by next week. Til then:

Happy trails