I lie on a metal bed staring at the ceiling art collection as the giant all-seeing mechanical eye blasts a dose of prime quality radiation into me. Made in Japan I read on the unit, safe in the knowledge that it’s a well built machine. Maybe the myriad of stainless steel inserts and pins working alongside my organic machinery are the finest Sheffield steel, though I suspect that industry died out decades ago, and microscopic investigation in me would find the legend, ‘made in china.’
The consultant did suggest a surgical expedition if I wanted to remove the wire that does a figure eight around my right elbow and now presses out against the skin. I’ve had enough surgery for now I said, backing away from his scalpel.
He was also eager to show me the latest X-ray of my right femur, and compare it too a previous image of destruction. The break now a solid mass, with an additional mound of bone around it, which he was quick to point out was normal. For a child, that would disappear, but I’m no spring chicken, so it’s there to stay.
I ask my standard question. “Is it normal for everything to still hurt? I’m tired and struggling to walk a mile.”
“A mile? So am I!” He quipped, then adding, “all normal. It takes a year and half or so for these kind of injuries to heal properly. Your body is using a lot of energy to regenerate. Come back in four months, and you’ll feel much better than now. Ok, let’s talk about arthritis and osteoporosis.”
“Let’s talk more about feeling much better instead…” I said.