The last few weeks (in June 2025) have been spent in recovery from my last total hip replacement (THR) surgery…unless I grow a third hip. The drug protocol for post-surgery recovery involves heavy doses of Tylenol, plus drugs to fight infection, clotting, depression, and menstruating. Yes, a drug to slow “time of the month” bleeding also prevents heavy blood action in surgery and  recovery. I understand women better now, too.

But the main thing about recovery is the mental fog, the unbalanced nature of existence as (normal) surgical pain and possible complications are chemically blocked. It doesn’t help that after surgery to the lower extremities, the repaired area needs to be elevated at best, horizontal at least, and inactive for as long as you can stand* it. All the while you are fully conscious and mentally convinced you are ready to bat cleanup for the New York Yankees. Instructions for recovery read as if bathroom trips are not needed: Constant rest, elevation, and icing. And breathing exercises. They even give you a little device to suck on.

The “rest”, the drugs, and the fact the body has been surgically altered make it easy for a normally busy mind to wander places it should not wander, especially in an older age. For example, what was the point of surgery and replacement? Something else is just going to break or go bad. It isn’t as if death is right around the corner but  wouldn’t the surgical assets consumed by a 72-year-old man be better utilized** by a younger person with longer life expectancy? As a former financial planner, I picture the dollars and resources of my surgery analyzed with a color coded illustration of return on investment (ROI).  It would  perfectly illustrate my THR should have been done on a younger human with more(sic) potential to use the long-lasting titanium.  FYI, my THR has a low ROI. LOL and ROFL?

The problem is the new joints are mine now, and I must make something of myself, make the surgery worthwhile. Training for a marathon might seem the optimal ROI. It might also mean a hip replacement of the original hip replacement. Bad ROI. Titanium doesn’t wear out but the fine layer of “something”*** coating the titanium allowing the ball and socket hip to work will wear out, shedding microscopic bits of “something”. I’d click when I walked. BTW, those micro-filings will be absorbed by my body. Wonder if all THR patients are informed about this.

There is Med School, with the eventual ability to do THRs on myself and others. A great way to give back. Or Law School. I could sue…somebody for something and save the world from something or someone. And make money.

Or I could sit in The Chair, wiggle my toes, take my drugs, and thank God our society allows old people to get new parts. Others, I’ve learned, were not so compassionate.

Google Ubasute, a Japanese “legend” that may or not be true. Wink, wink.

If I were a truly responsible human, the Nordic “myth” of Attestupa would be in my future, and I could do it now with the new hips. Which, on second thought, might be a worse ROI.

Thank God, again, there is plenty of volunteer work for a retired, healthy man eager to give back to society.

8/17/2026. It has proven extremely difficult to find useful volunteer work. The search isn’t over, but this is a small town. I may have to commute.  Wonder if the surgical center needs healthy people to wheel patients to and from surgery? What a sweetly serendipitous ROI that would be.

*Yes. Pun.

**Finally, a chance to use the world correctly.

***Usually Teflon, or some other man-made plastic.