A week from today, I will lay down on a bed and let someone inject me with drugs that will paralyze me and render me unconscious.  Then, with advance knowledge but no ability to stop it, someone will cut open my knee and stick someone else’s piece of knee in me.  My ACL is ripped up like a stretched out slice of bacon.  The surgeon will shave it out, drill a few holes in my knee bones, and screw in a segment of shin ligament from a cadaver.  For all I know the other poor bastard is still walking around today and has no idea he’ll be donating a body part to me in 7 days.  I don’t know how fresh these things need to be.

ACL = Anterior Cruciate Ligament. It’s the thing in your knee that keeps you from collapsing when you turn a corner.  Unless you’re me.  Then, if you take a quick left turn, you’ll buckle and wince. Until a few months after next Monday.

The other thing my very capable surgeon will do is take a look at the shock absorber (aka medial meniscus) in the same knee.  Apparently, the MRI showed a hole that isn’t supposed to be there.  The plan is to take a peek and fix it if fixin is what’s needed.

So, here is my commitment to you.  I’m going to write every day through this ordeal. You and I can experience this together.  I really don’t know what to expect.  Other than some anxiety on Monday morning.  Some loopiness Monday afternoon and evening. Some pain Tuesday morning and afternoon.  And lots of laying around, rehabbing, and a caring loving family.

Let’s do it!