|Woman who refused hip replacement surgery out for a walk.|
We are not our bodies. Or at least so say the Buddhists. We are souls, spirits. Our essence is ethereal. Blah blah blah. Normally I buy all that but not today, or at least not so soon after scheduling hip replacement surgery. I'm pretty sure that on that particular day the doctor will be expecting my body on the operating table, which he will proceed to cut open and muck around inside of, and not just my spirit. Heck, if they just needed my spirit up there I'd have had all sorts of work done by now.
Having recently turned old, despite people saying that "seventy is the new fifty," naturally many of my peers have been through this surgery and swear by it, claiming it gave them a new lease on life. Two of my friends have had both hips replaced, and one went so far as to say she's sorry she doesn't have another leg so she can do it a third time. (I think she may have taken too much acid back in the day.)
All their rave reviews don't make me feel any better, but still I'm going for it since the alternative seems far less appealing. Besides, after looking at my most recent x-ray my doctor said, "Someone would have to be retarded not to get this fixed." Okay, so he's a tad politically incorrect, but by all reports he's a great surgeon.