Dr. Miracle Case

Take a moment and think about your cartilage.

Visualize it all.

Helping your joints not to scream like a Valkyrie in baroque opera.

Well I had minor issues with mine.
Elbow issues.
Left elbow issues.

I am not going to bore you with the details on how it all happened, suffice to say that I used to be a performer and I used to fly. Spiderman like. Well I wasn't protecting the masses but I was at least providing amusement in exchange of a paycheck.
So I was protecting the masses from boredom.
I suppose it's a life calling.

I had to endure many months of pain and discomfort including the going to the latest Cher concert in a cast after surgery. The dream of a life time spiked by this ugly piece or cardboard that was keeping my harm in a very Barbie like 90 degrees position. This pale DIY arts and crafts paper mache concoction had to be on my left limb while in presence of "icon".
Yes the cast was as stiff as Cher but for sure not as bedazzled as her.
I couldn't even turn back time properly.
I wasn't strong enough to wave my hands in the air.
I believe in life after endoscopic surgery but I was supposed to dance like a gypsy, act like a tramp, and like a thieve steal a night to remember.

I truly looked like Mrs. Potts...

Instead I had to send my 60 years old Jewish friend to get me the tour T-shirt. He doesn't stand in line ever so it didn't matter to him. By the way it was thanks to him that I ever managed to see Cher live in concert. The Jewish cookie factory owner from Chicago with close connection with the original Rat Pack in the golden Las Vegas days was my kosher god father when it came to Cher.
Should you require further information over the last details inbox me...

Anyway...

Today I had the final follow up after surgery ( not like Cher's farewell, actual FINAL follow up ).

I was allowed in the presence of the ever so charming,
ever so handsome,
ever so talented,
ever so "I have to many certificates for these walls",
Dr. Bond ( obviously that is not his real name...privacy people...also fear of legal repercussions...but I do find it quite fitting. Slightly dangerous but with that ever so stylish British connotation. His actual name has a much more distinct Latin sound, like maracas or Gloria Estefan...)

He will leave very little scarring.
He will go in, do what he does best, and leave while you are still asleep.
Just like your last one night stand, minus the shame ( no judgement ).

Meeting Dr. Bond require going through many etiquette musts.
Firstly you are let in by the radiologist, have your "picture" taken and you will be escorted in one of the consultation room waiting for his grace to appear.
Shortly after, the assistant in a white doctor coat with the Bond logo on comes in and tells you how well she thinks the surgery went. Just a halo short of a miracle.

After a very theatrical suspense pause a Star Trek sliding door opens and Dr. Bond descend into the room accompanied by an even number of cherubins, also known as his interns.

Dr. Bond looks at my CAT scan and proceed to auto-compliment himself for the beautiful work he did on my joint. A one man show. Copperfiled meets Madre Teresa.
We looked at the CAT pictures of my elbow the way that our mothers look at their wedding photo album.
He even promised to make my joint famous by taking its pictures on a orthopedic tour.
I was thinking I could have my own reality show on his TV Channel.
Keeping up with the Arthritis.
Yes, Dr. Bond even has his own TV Channel: OrthoNOW TV. True story.
We don't brush the dolls here.

Dr. Bond flashes the mandatory pearly whites a couple hundreds times and I am on my way into the world with a designer elbow and a promise of orthopedic stardom.

On my way out I bump into a Panda in recovery.

It's true then, EVERYBODY go to Dr. Bond.

A name, a Brand, a guarantee.

Ciao for now.