A few months ago, I had hip replacement surgery. This is not the direct result of menopause, but since such surgeries frequnetly go with age, as does menopause, I thought it was all right to include it in this blog. (Besides, it's my blog and I'll write what I want to. Sort of sounds like "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to," doesn't it?)
Back to the surgery. When I met with the doctor, he looked at my X-rays and clicked his tongue. Our conversation went something like this:
Doctor: "Your hip is bad.":
Me: "I know."
Doctor: "Your hip is bad."
Me: "I know."
Doctor: "Your hip is REALLY bad."
Me: "I know. " Somehow I felt like I should apologize. "I'm sorry."
This man, who looked scarcely older than my 9 year old grandson, smiled benevolently and said, "Don't worry, my dear. We'll fix you right up."
And he did. My hip is working. As it should. After all, it's brand new. If only the rest of me worked as well and were brand new, too. It set me to wondering, what would happen if I could have replacement parts for all the parts of my body. What if I got new boobs, new booty, and a new face? Wouldn't I look fabulous?
It's something to think about.
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