2010 -- New Year, New Way to Think

Full disclosure: this post is not about my knee, but about something bigger: our ability to think for ourselves.

As you welcome in the New Year with a fresh batch of recycled resolutions, I’d like to share the profound words of David Foster Wallace. Back in 2005, he spoke to the graduating class of Kenyon College. His speech was titled, “This is Water,” and it conveys Wallace’s struggles to define thinking and master empathy. His theme is captured in this little gem: “Think about it: There is no experience you’ve had that you were not at the absolute center of it.”

Wallace’s speech, I hope, causes you to re-consider how you view the world, or at least the small part of the world you inhabit. I hope it causes you to think before you speak; to seek information and form your own opinion, rather than follow the herd. Just like the mid-range jump shot, these attributes are a lost art.

In today’s partisan climate, people increasingly surround themselves with like-minded folks, especially the ones who are supposed to be “leaders.” Republicans only watch Fox; Democrats only watch MSNBC. Right-wingers listen to Rush Limbaugh; liberals follow Huffington Post. Issues are no longer debated. They’re not even spotted.

These days, you have to subscribe to multiple news sources just to get a (somewhat) complete picture. The media only reports stories with angles that reflect the viewpoints closest to their readers or reporters, failing to examine stories from all sides. It’s all about the angles. The source of your news says as much about you as your actual views. In fact, think about what your opinions would look like if you only listened to Bill O’Reilly or Keith Olbermann? While I realize they aren’t traditional newscasters, in today’s world most news is delivered this way. If your reaction to the mention of either of these guys is something like, “Man, that dude is so biased. Only a (liberal or conservative) would believe his cr*p.” Well, imagine how somebody with the polar opposite viewpoint reacted to that statement. Yup. They feel the exact same way about what you watch and read.

Here’s a challenge. Try watching one of those programs exclusively for 2 days, then switching to the other one. Just grit your teeth. Maybe half of the stories will be the same – the current health care vote, a bombing in the Middle East, etc. – except they’ll be covered from diametrically opposite angles. The other half of the program will address stories the other show doesn’t even mention. And yet people who watch just one of those shows are expected to get a complete picture of the issues? They’re supposed to debate things intelligently, let alone civilly? Um, yeah. Didn’t think so.

This dichotomy has trickled down to the local level, as our communities have become echo chambers, little cocoons of isolated thoughts and viewpoints. Neighborhood “for sale” signs should also include notices like, “Democrats only” or “Liberals need not apply.” Society has reached the point where “diversity” needs to be expanded beyond skin color or religion. Things don’t appear to be changing anytime soon. Remember last November when we were supposed to have moved beyond red states and blue states? Well, it looks like Obama’s ascendancy was a mirage, a temporary flash of hope. I can’t say I’m surprised, though I admit I had hoped things would change. But the venom spewed over the past decade wasn’t really about Bush, despite what was written for the past 8 years. George W. just happened to be an easy target, a caricature of ineptitude. The problem was how the rest of us debated stuff.

Fox holes used to be the last line of defense for the brave. Now? They’re refuges where folks willingly hunker down with sycophants. Who loses when people put on blinders and cannot have their views challenged? Everybody.

Which brings me to Wallace’s graduation speech. It’s not too late for society to become a bit more open-minded, a bit less hostile, and I think his words will help. For 2010, don’t just promise to lose weight or spend more time with your family, admirable goals. For the next 12 months, vow to step outside the box. To listen, before deciding. To contemplate, before reacting. To gather information, before offering a knee-jerk opinion. To try to see things from another perspective. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Happy New Year (and now I’ll step off my moral and philosophical soap box and return to knee updates.)

(Below are excerpts from Wallace’s speech; the full text can be found here. I highly recommend reading it) http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122178211966454607.html)

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Thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic it doesn't have to be a choice. Thinking this way is my natural default-setting. It's the automatic, unconscious way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I'm operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the center of the world and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world's priorities. The thing is that there are obviously different ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this traffic, all these vehicles stuck and idling in my way: It's not impossible that some of these people in SUV's have been in horrible auto accidents in the past and now find driving so traumatic that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to drive; or that the Hummer that just cut me off is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he's trying to rush to the hospital, and he's in a way bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am -- it is actually I who am in his way. Or I can choose to force myself to consider the likelihood that everyone else in the supermarket's checkout line is just as bored and frustrated as I am, and that some of these people probably have much harder, more tedious or painful lives than I do, overall.

Again, please don't think that I'm giving you moral advice, or that I'm saying you're "supposed to" think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it, because it's hard, it takes will and mental effort, and if you're like me, some days you won't be able to do it, or you just flat-out won't want to. But most days, if you're aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-lady who just screamed at her little child in the checkout line -- maybe she's not usually like this; maybe she's been up three straight nights holding the hand of her husband who's dying of bone cancer, or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the Motor Vehicles Dept. who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a nightmarish red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it's also not impossible -- it just depends on what you want to consider. If you're automatically sure that you know what reality is and who and what is really important -- if you want to operate on your default-setting -- then you, like me, will not consider possibilities that aren't pointless and annoying. But if you've really learned how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, loud, slow, consumer-hell-type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars -- compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things. Not that that mystical stuff's necessarily true: The only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship...

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And I submit that this is what the real, no-bull- value of your liberal-arts education is supposed to be about: How to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default-setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone, day in and day out.

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And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

Two OS Visits

Before I describe my recent OS visits – yes, plural; seeing two surgeons reminds me of that “famous” JCVD quote and movie trailer line: “There are two of them. Double the Van Dammage” – I wanted to share my bike riding adventures. A few weeks ago, I bought a friend’s old mountain bike. Other than a few bike outings on vacation, I haven’t ridden one since my sophomore year in high school; i.e., when I got my driver’s license and no longer needed a bike for transportation.

First, it really blows biking outdoors in the cold. And by cold, I mean anything under 50 degrees. The wind whipped my face worse than Vic Morrow cracked Kunta Kinte (not sure why that analogy popped into my head; it just did.) Pedaling faster to get home quicker just makes things worse. Yeah, I realize I’m a moron. But at the time, that logic made sense. Also, I’m a sh*tty bike rider. Just brutal. I need bumpers on the side of the trail, like those bowling lanes for little kids.

Bikes have changed dramatically from the ones I rode as a kid. My first bike was a New York Giants dirt bike bought at Sears (my dad got a steep work discount). With a massive banana seat and tires fatter than contestants from the Biggest Loser, that thing outweighed a tank. I remember getting trapped underneath the bike after a wreck, unable to lift that beast off me. Too bad they didn't make the LifeCall for that thing. You know, I've fallen and I can't get up? Anyway, I’m pretty sure the Army now uses its frame for body armor in Iraq.

Remember being fearless on your bike as a kid? It was like the Dukes of Hazard on two wheels. We would rocket over creeks off homemade ramps and launch ourselves down outdoor stairways. Now? I avoided even the 2cm crack in the middle of the paved trail. That twig smaller than my 4-year old’s foot? Too big to ride over. Yes, age and injuries have transformed me into a mega-p*ssy. It’s gotten so bad that just watching the X-Games freaks me out.

Ok. I met with 2 surgeons last week. I had my regularly scheduled check-up with Turgeon on Friday, and then I met with a new OS just to get a fresh set of eyes to check out my knee. For the most part, their evaluations were similar. Here’s what each had to say.

When I met with Turgeon, my big concern – other than the usual, how is the knee healing – was the twinge of pain on the inside part of my knee. As I blogged about earlier, my google-educated diagnosis suggested a possible medial meniscus tear.

Turgeon doesn’t think my meniscus is torn. He didn’t rule it out, but after performing a variety of bends and twists he doesn’t think there’s anything seriously wrong. He also thought the knee looked pretty good, and suggested it was time to step up my activities. He told me to start pushing the envelope and scale back if my knee starts to hurt. In fact, he told me – gulp – that it was ok to start jogging, though I need to use baby-steps. For instance, he told me to slowly increase my treadmill walking until the pace reached a point where I had to start a slow jog. He suggested I maintain the jogging pace for short periods – 10, 20, 30 seconds – before reverting back to my walking speed.

Turgeon, however, is a bit concerned with how the osteotomy is healing. The x-rays reveal the bone hasn’t filled in yet. He wants to keep the screws in my shin until July. Normally, he removes the hardware between 12-18 months. In my case, if the bone had looked ok, he would remove the screws now because they’re protruding. But he wants to keep them in for a bit longer.

But the main takeaway is that the knee looks and feels solid. The crepitus is normal. I’ve got full range of motion and full extension. No pain in the ACI-repaired areas. I need to build up my quad strength, however, which should come with time and after some more intense rehab. That will be the challenge with pushing things – how far can I go without aggravating the knee?

He told me that as I push the knee, I’ll also learn whether the meniscus is torn. He cautioned that the MRI – last taken 2 months before I started feeling the pain – is an imperfect tool to detect meniscus tears. If the pain persists, he mentioned undergoing an MR arthrogram. Basically, the doctor sticks a needle into my knee and injects some type of dye. The fluid then seeps into the knee joint and shows any “contrasts,” or possible tears, etc. The pictures might also reveal any deformities with the ACI graft. This procedure is not without risks, however. A number of lawsuits allege that one of the substances in the dye – gadolinium – causes a number of harmful side effects. Plus, sticking a needle into your knee joint can’t be enjoyable. Unless you’re Bubbles, I guess.

Turgeon didn't suggest I get MR arthrogram. He knows I’m an information junkie, and wanted to share this possibility now so I can educate myself in advance. Of course, I hope the pain goes away, making the possibility of further testing a moot point.

Turgeon also told me that he’ll probably check out the graft site when he removes the screws. He could clean up any overgrowth or remove extra scar tissue, though, at this point, he doesn’t think that’ll be necessary. He used a bioglide sealant – not periosteum – to cover the graft, which has a better track record; less than 5% of patients with bioglide sealants experience overgrowth.

The following Tuesday I met with Dr. Joseph Berman in Arlington, Texas, about 30 minutes away from my house. Berman, I think, does the most ACIs in DFW, and works out of a specialized facility; it was even larger than Turgeon’s old offices at the Texas Sports Medicine Group. I brought all of Turgeon’s visitation notes and the two surgical reports, as well as both MRI pictures and the technician reports. I felt like a fledgling author delivering a rough draft of his novel to a publisher. Berman took his own x-rays while I was there.

I was very impressed with Berman and his staff. I sensed he felt a tad uncomfortable serving as a second opinion, not wanting to play Monday Morning QB-surgeon and question Turgeon’s actions. However, I think he realized that I was a pretty-educated patient and had a number of specific questions for him to answer, which made his job a bit easier.

Like Turgeon, Berman did not think I tore my meniscus. So much for my google MD. Also like Turgeon, he thinks my recovery is going well. He suggested that the pain on the inside part of my knee, along with the quivering sensation my knee experiences when doing single-leg squats, might be from my lack of core strength. My right quad is still noticeably smaller and weaker than my good leg. Berman thinks that with continued rehab my knee will strengthen and some of these issues will disappear. Berman does not suggest I start jogging yet. He told me he counsels ACI patients to wait 14-16 months before attempting impact activities. But he says biking, even mountain biking, is fine.

Like Turgeon, Berman is concerned with my osteotomy, though he offers a dramatically different solution. He would remove the screws now and do a bone graft to fill in the tibia. If the bone hasn’t filled in by now, he says, it probably won’t. A bone graft is a pretty serious – and painful – procedure, and the recovery lasts 3+ months.

We also spoke, somewhat at length, about the ACI process in general. He told me that the Israeli surgeon who pioneered MACI is a friend of his. I informed Berman of the CBS Today feature piece on Dara Torres’s ACI knee surgery (in my earlier post, “Celebrity Knee Surgery,” I noted that the press release announcing her surgery was vaguely worded; it didn’t specify which procedure Dara was having. I speculated it was ACI, and it turns out that's what she had.) If I was Berman, I would find a way to turn Dara’s very public ACI surgery into a marketing effort, assuming that’s ethical. It’s like rainmaking for doctors. Anyway, here’s a link to the CBS story on Torres:

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/12/14/earlyshow/health/main5977298.shtml

I also told Berman about my blog, and gave him the link. Not sure if he’ll check it out, or if he’ll enjoy my sense of humor. I also spoke with one of his nurses about my blog and my recovery experiences. I had mentioned I had swapped messages with one of Berman’s recent ACI patients (and blog follower), Char. Hopefully the info I passed along helps.

So, where do things stand now? Interestingly, the pain on the inside part of my knee has disappeared over the past few weeks. The leg actually feels ok right now, though I still think something’s amiss with my meniscus. I’ll probably try speed walking, and might even progress to a point where I jog a few steps. But I plan on waiting at least another month or so before I begin jogging. I also plan on regularly doing weighted leg raises again -- something I stopped doing -- especially the ones lying sideways to build up my abductor and adductor muscles. I think that might be the best and least painful way to build up my inner quad strength. And I wonder if the increased strength might eliminate the meniscus pain.

I next meet with Turgeon around Spring Break, unless the pain in my inner knee re-appears. We take x-rays every visit, and, if the bone does not appear to be healing, I’ll ask Turgeon’s opinion on how to address the problem. I want to avoid a bone graft, if possible. I really don’t want to endure another crippling surgery, especially now that I’m somewhat normal again.

In the meantime, happy holidays.

11-Month Update -- Setback

I suffered my first real setback about 2-3 weeks ago. It might be a reoccurrence of an earlier problem. There’s a sharp twinge of pain on the inside part of my knee, right where the knee forms a “V” when it bends. I think this is what doctors call, “the joint line.” The pain appears to be below the patella, suggesting it’s unrelated to the ACI surgery (at least that’s what I hope). My symptoms are consistent with a medial meniscus tear. (I earned my M.D. at Google University). The 6-month MRI suggested I tore the posterior horn of my medial meniscus, which, I learned, is the most common place to tear cartilage. Turgeon thought the actual MRI pictures were inconclusive, and the 2nd MRI report didn’t note the meniscus tear. Then again, the MRI guys also thought they were looking for a torn ACL…

The pain prevented me from doing my knee exercises for a few weeks; the rehab kept aggravating the pain. That’s troubling. But what’s worse is that the pain started flaring up during normal activities. This is the first time I’ve ever experienced daily knee pain, and I’m seriously concerned. I never had constant pain before my surgery, and I’m worried that the surgery made my knee worse. The doubts about my decision to undergo ACI – the ones I tried to bury months ago – have re-emerged. I now think about my knee pretty much every time I walk or climb stairs. Over the past 2-3 days, the pain has disappeared, and I recently did some shuttle leg press with minimal bend and weight with no ill after-effects. Hopefully the pain is unrelated to the ACI repairs, hopefully the pain doesn’t suggest anything serious, but if it’s a meniscus tear, hopefully it can be fixed rather easily, or as easy as arthroscopic surgery can be. That’s a lot of hoping…

My next doctor’s appointment is this week. Hopefully (there’s that word again) I’ll get some insight into the cause of my knee pain, as well as a possible solution. I already scheduled an appointment with another ACI doctor for the following week. I want a second set of eyes to examine my knee, not just about the possible meniscus tear, but also to evaluate my progress from the ACI surgery.

The possible meniscus tear poses a new dilemma. I had wanted the OS to check out the status of my cloned cartilage and “clean up” any overgrowth at the same time he removed my screws, and I had planned on waiting until next year to have the screws removed. However, if I tore my meniscus I’ll probably need to get scoped fairly soon, which means I have to decide now whether to get the screws removed, too. Frankly, I don’t think I have a choice. I don’t want to undergo two separate surgeries and two separate recovery periods. I want to handle my rehabs at the same time, if possible, even if it’s earlier than I had planned. This will jack with stuff I had planned to do in 2010.

Anyway, I should have some interesting details to share next week after my two doctor’s visits.

Ok, because this latest posting is a bit morose, I decided to share my adventures dressing up as Santa 5 years ago. This story was re-worked from the original email I sent to some buddies. Enjoy.

I made 4 Santa visits. The first 3 stops were to little kids: 1 ½ - 3 years old. Those were fun trips, even the visit to the kid who was scared sh*tless of Santa. I read a few Xmas stories, gave them some gifts, and told corny North Pole jokes. Good times.

The last stop was a different story: a 7 yr-old boy and his 10-yr old sister. When I saw their ages on my checklist, I assumed the older sister no longer believed in Santa, but was just playing along so she didn’t ruin it for her brother. As it was, I was skeptical that the 7-yr old (first grader) still believed in Santa. Well, those were 15 of Santa’s most uncomfortable minutes.

I first made a couple of “I’m checking my naughty/nice list” jokes and then gave the kids the gifts their parents stashed outside. After they opened them, dead silence. Crickets chirping. I had no idea what to do. At one point, I almost asked their parents, “How ‘bout throwing Santa a bone here….” The kids didn’t seem real interested in listening to Xmas stories, and I’m not sure what the rules say about letting a 10-yr old girl sit on my lap. So I started asking them some dorky questions about school and what they like to do, the kind of questions aunts and uncles ask during family reunions. It turns out the boy is artsy. He bragged about the pot he made in art class and the poems he’s writing in English class. I almost asked if he painted the pot fuchsia. I immediately checked Santa’s rules for helping little kids come out of the closet. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Dealing with the daughter was equally nerve-racking. Very nice girl, but she was exceptionally quiet. I struggled to use her Hillary Duff CD gift as a conversation bridge. I even heard myself say, “Santa likes Hillary Duff, too. She’s a fine entertainer.” I was using Kramer’s “Mr. Movie Phone” voice, the episode in which he finally told the caller, “why don’t you just me the name of the movie…” Painful moments.

After a few pictures with Santa by the Xmas tree, I asked the kids if there’s anything else they wanted to ask Santa. The boy said, “You’re not the real Santa, are you? You’re just one of his helpers dressed up like Santa.” Totally out of the blue. Dad was videotaping the whole episode. I’m sure in a few years when they show that tape at their family reunion, some drunk cousin is gonna bust out, “Check out the look on Santa’s face!!” I was completely frozen. I desperately looked at the mom for some help, the second time that night I wanted the parents to throw Santa a bone. Thankfully, the mom said, “Santa, Brandon knows there are many Santa helpers.” So I picked up that train of thought and told the kids, “Yes. Santa’s really busy at the North Pole right now. There’s just no way he can check on ALL the kids in the world, so he asks helpers like me to visit certain kids to see if they’ve been naughty or nice. And after my visit here, I can safely report back that Brandon and Megan are nice kids, deserving of really neat gifts.” I think that answer helped avert disaster. If the kids didn’t buy it, I was ready to pull of my fake beard and say, “Look, kids. I’m just a gov’t worker, trying to make the world a better place.”

iPhone rant

While I continue to play Monday Morning Knee Quarterback, I wanted to share a recent observation.

As I was leaving a Dallas Mavs game with my 7-year old son, I noticed a group of twenty-something guys and girls hanging around the main lobby area. The guys wore slacks and fitted, striped button-down shirts (I’m also pretty sure they leased BMWs, lived in 600-square foot apartments and racked up $30,000 in credit card debt, like most Dallas Chachis). The girls wore pant suits, so I don’t think they were hookers. Anyway, they looked like they were trying to figure out where to go next. Yet this group wasn’t laughing out loud or goofing around, the kind of behavior you’d expect from people this age. In fact, they didn’t seem to be having fun at all, or even socializing with each other. Something didn’t look right.

And then it hit me – all of them were texting. These people were more into their phones than their friends. At the risk of sounding like an old foagy – oh, these young whipper-snappers and their portable internets – what’s the point of going out with your friends if you’re not going to pay any attention to them? That makes no sense.

Like rats following the Pied Piper, one member of the group eventually signaled that it was time to leave, and everybody filed out of the arena. Of course, three-fourths of them continued pecking away on their phones, which made walking difficult. Actually, they looked like they were waddling. People probably thought they had dumped in their trousers. But seriously, I’m not sure what shocked me more: that people would ignore their friends like this, or that friends would tolerate this behavior? To paraphrase the immortal George Costanza, would it be so wrong of me to smack the iPhone out their hand? I say no.

Anyway, this scene reminded me of similar ones 10-15 years ago when cell phones first appeared. Back then, people spent the entire night talking on their cell phones, not to the friends they were out with. With the ubiquity of smart phones, I fear society is about to repeat this annoying behavior. Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I don’t think people had cell phones and texting in mind when they uttered this phrase, but it fits. So let’s take a little stroll back in time.

(Wait a second. Before I examine this troubling trend -- ubiquity. Impressed? Ever since I saw “ubiquitous” on my Word-A-Day Calendar three years ago, I have to use that word at least 3x/week. Even if I can’t pronounce it correctly. Ubiquitous).

Back in the ‘80s, cell phones were larger than Kim Kardashian’s ass. Seriously, have you seen non-airbrushed pictures of her rear end? It’s got more craters than the Moon’s Sea of Tranquility. (Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.) Back then, cell phones were more flash than substance, just like Kardashian’s butt.

(Hold on a second. After I typed this blog post, I stumbled across a bunch of recent photos of Kardashian, including her Halloween “Princess Jasmine” costume. She looks lean and fantastic. The pictures didn’t show her booty, however. And with photo-shopping you can never tell how legit the pictures are. But I reserve the right to re-examine my previous comments about her rear…)

Gordon Gekko sat aboard his yacht and whispered into his cell phone, “Blue Horeshoe loves Andicott Steel.” (Maybe the scene didn’t play out EXACTLY like that, but this description works better for my blog post, and I’m not above bending the facts to fit my needs). Yuppies immediately sprinted from the movie theatre to buy their own phone, hoping to capture Gekko’s aura. Pretty soon, upscale clubs were full of douchebags walking around with suitcase-sized devices to their ears, pretending to be brokers. They really weren’t buying and selling stocks, of course. They just wanted people to think they were important. Their only accomplishment, however, was ignoring their companions. And looking like douchebags. Eventually the phones shrank in size (I don’t hold much hope for Kardashian’s butt) and cost, allowing the masses to buy cell phones, too. Poor manners were no longer limited to the sweater-vest and wine bar crowd.

Now, God forbid I morph into the Miss Manners of social etiquette, but proper usage of cell phones required a steep learning curve, made worse once people with IQs under 75 could afford them. At first, people talked non-stop on their cell phones, no matter where they were or whom they were with. Kids’ school functions. Restaurants. Sporting events. Who can forget the TV shots of people chirping away on the phone, oblivious to the game? But probably the worst experience, in my opinion, was grabbing a hung-over brunch at IHOP or Denny’s, and being forced to suffer through the cell phone conversation of a very loud redneck who just had to call Cooter and brag about the 5-point buck he just bagged, or the hot chick he just nailed who turned out to be his second-cousin. In my best Nancy Kerrigan voice, WHHHYYYY can’t I just eat my pancakes in quiet?

Folks didn’t care who they ignored or who they offended. Basically, they talked on their cell phones because they could and because they thought it made them look important. They were dead wrong; they just didn’t realize it. By using cell phones incessantly, the less affluent played catch-up with the douchebag-yuppies they openly mocked but secretly envied.

Let me share my cell phone epiphany. Back in the late 1990s I went to Happy Hour at a Tex-Mex place with a group of acquaintances. What can be happier than a Corona and chips/salsa? Nothing, I say. Well, I remember talking about sports and chicks – that’s pretty much the only thing guys talk about – and casually asked the guy a few seats down to pass the chips. I immediately resumed debating the virtues of Latinas vs. Asian women, truly the LeBron vs. Kobe debate of women. 5, 10 seconds elapsed before I realized the guy hadn’t passed the chips. I looked up and the bastard’s chatting away on his cell phone. I made eye-contact and gave him the look that says, “Hey buddy. Pass the chips already.” You know the look.

He appeared a bit dumfounded at my annoyance, and then he gave me a condescending look that says, “Um, can’t you see I’m a super-important guy on my cell phone?” You know that look, too. Then he spun around in his chair and turned his back to me. Apparently, a call in the middle of Happy Hour was so important that he couldn’t use his free hand to slide the chips down 3 feet.

15-20 minutes later – by this point I had calmed down enough such that I no longer wanted to dump the pico de gallo on him – I casually asked him who he was talking to (he didn’t realize that I was ticked off at him). He said, “Oh, a buddy got stuck working late and he was complaining about how he had to stick around until his boss left.” Somehow, speaking on a cell phone transformed this call into something so important that he couldn’t pass the f*cking chips and salsa. Bastard.

The common thread here? People ignored their companions. The phones gave them an inflated sense of self-importance. Their conversations – or, just the ability to hold a conversation – took precedence over the people standing next to them.

Grown-ups respond to new toys just like kids – they play with them non-stop until the novelty factor wears off. Just like Pac-man got old after the 12,063 time, cell phones did, too, and people eventually integrated them in a socially acceptable way. Everybody was much happier, especially the Verizon technicians who kept switching off cell phone towers because they thought it was funny to randomly drop calls. F*ckers.

Unfortunately, the smart phone crowd discarded the lessons learned during cell phone misuse. Maybe the current generation using smart phones never had to learn cell phone etiquette. Maybe people today just don’t care. Or maybe, just maybe, in the Facebook and Twitter era people like their friends a little bit less. Seriously, how many times have you looked across the table and saw a companion texting away instead of actually, you know, listening to what you were saying? If you’d rather text somebody else than talk with your companion, why go out with them in the first place? If your companion is so boring that you’d rather text somebody, just say so. You probably don't care about hurting his feelings.

(Exaggerated Al Gore sigh). Look, there are plenty of good reasons to text somebody or surf the web while out with others. I understand. Just don’t be one of those obnoxious pr*cks who texts while somebody else is talking to you.

And now I’ll step down from my soap box.

Two final thoughts: I’ve never read the Twilight books and don’t plan on seeing the movies. But the pasty Vampire guy? The James Dean lookalike? Robert Pattinson (I just looked up his name). He reminds me of those 90210 actors, guys who are 40 but play high schoolers. Except that without the sideburns and schlocky-ness, he seems creepy. If Pattinson ever appeared on 90210, he definitely would've date-raped Kelly. By the way, I loved watching 90210 and Melrose in college. I’d hit the bars immediately afterward with a happy face. Those shows always seemed to put me in a good mood. It's hard to top quarter beer nights after those shows.

And finally, Happy Thanksgiving. Remember, the mash potatoes make-or-break the meal…

10-Month Update

Man, I never thought January and February would end. Shower seats. Toilet seat risers. 23 hours in bed. Sleepless nights. And now it’s November. You know what? I actually miss my toilet seat riser. Crapping that high is kind of empowering. Like driving an SUV. Alright, let’s check out how the knee’s doing today.

Walking around? No problem.

Stairs? Not completely normal, but no real issues. Sometimes I catch myself concentrating on my form, especially that first step.

Bending and squatting? Done cautiously, but capable. 1-legged squats are difficult once the knee bends beyond 60 degrees. At that point, the leg starts to quiver like a guy in the electric chair. The knee feels like it’s struggling to hold it together, like the First Wives Club at a Mathew McConaughey flick.

Surfing? Nope. Crossing my fingers I’ll be able to surf in Maui in May.

Lumberjacking? Not yet, but my chainsaw and flannel shirts are ready.

Kneeling and crawling? Difficult, but possible. It’s uncomfortable, not so much on the actual knee, but on the bone wedge when it brushes against the ground.

Running or jogging? No.

Pain? Not really, though I experience occasional twinges of discomfort on the inside part of my knee. The outside of my knee sometimes feels compressed, like an oversized object trying to squeeze through a smaller hole. (I’ve got several X-rated jokes ready to go, but decided to hold off). Also, the screws in my shin and the bone wedge from the osteotomy are sensitive.

10 months out, I still don’t know whether the surgery was “worth it.” It’s too early to tell. Keep in mind that my knee wasn’t in shambles at the time of the surgery, so I never experienced the debilitating moments some ACI patients suffered through. I decided to go under the knife before my knee rotted away. I’ll probably evaluate this decision every few months for the rest of my life. For my sanity, let’s hope I eventually reach the stage where I conclude the past 10 months – or however many months pass – was worth it.