[wdfifteen]

In 1 Corinthians Paul tells his people, ..."your body is a temple."

Somehow I didn’t get the message.

For nearly 70 years I’ve treated my body pretty much like an amusement park. From getting thrown off of horses, crashing bikes, high school football, motorcycle and car crashes, chemical abuse, skiing accidents, roller blade crashes, and running marathons as an arthritic 60 year old, my devil-may-care, fun-loving brain has ridden my body like a cheap whore. I admit I have slowed down over the years, but until now I still harbored plans to get back to roller blading someday at the very least.

No more.

The park is closed.

I came to this conclusion after having spine surgery this past Friday. The experience presented some challenges, mostly, but not limited to, pain and passing gas.

The Pain
I had sailed through joint replacement in my feet, ACL surgery, and wisdom teeth removal without using any of the pain meds the Docs gave me. I put the pills on the bathroom shelf and forgot about them. So when the spine surgeon said there would be significant pain from this procedure I thought, “Forget it Doc, you don’t know who you’re dealing with here.” Turns out it was a good thing I still had all those pills from before. "Significant Pain," turn out to be an understatement.

I responded to the pain by being pissed off at it and wanting to punch it in the face. Lying there in the bed I had time to examine the experience of pain and to plan my revenge. I noticed there were actually several elements to the pain, a low weak ache, a powerful relentless ache, a weak sharp pain, a powerful sharp pain, and a sharp pain that hid in the dark corners and jumped out with a cattle prod now and then with no warning. The worst one was the powerful dull ache.

I was taking Percocet every four hours. It took about half an hour after taking the pills before the pain chorus to settle down and I then felt pretty good for an hour, then the strong dull ache in my hips would start. I tried a variety of old tricks, finally settling on pulling my knees up slowly and then slowly sliding my feet down to the end of the bed. The soothing sensation of my feet sliding slowly and softly up and down across the cool sheet was a good counter punch to the monster in my hips. I wasn't without pain, but I was showing it who was boss. During the last half an hour of the cycle the pain chorus became more chaotic and louder, everyone joined in like an orchestra tuning up before a concert. Then it was time for another pill and the cycle started over again.

Farting
Almost from the moment I woke up Loren, my nurse, was obsessed with my fartage. Other than this odd little interest she seemed like a nice enough woman. Every few minutes she would stop in and ask if I had passed any gas.

“Nope.”

Then she would put her stethoscope to my belly and say, “I want to hear some gastric activity in here.” (“Gastric Activity” - didn’t they open for “Spinal Tapp?”)
I don’t know which specific muscles are engaged in farting, but every muscle from my knees to my ribs was on fire and the fart muscles were for sure included in there somewhere. Never in my life have I experienced fear of the pain of cutting a fart. But pressure was building up in my abdomen, and sooner or later something was going to have to give.

And it did.

Suddenly a completely unbidden blast of gas ripped out of me that could have knocked birds off of power lines clear over in Pittsburg. And I hadn’t had to do a thing. No pain. Just relief.

Loren came in with a couple of nurses and ask the same old question.

“Loren, I've been fartin’ like a cow!!”

There were high fives and fist bumps all the way around.

Over a fart.

You have to take your victories when they come, no matter how small they may be.

Saturday morning it was time for me to take my first walk. Loren was fussing around trying to tie my gown in back, and I told her, "Don't worry about that. After all this I don't have any dignity left to preserve.
She said, "Tell me about it. I just had a baby three months ago. I have no secrets." That occasioned a laugh and another fist bump.

I don’t think I'll ever elevate my body to temple status. It just doesn't fit me. But a stately old edifice like an old Carnegie library would suit my self image just fine.