Do The Math

This article has a lot of numbers in it, some good, some not so good.  Five years ago I went to an orthopedic surgeon because at the tender age of 69, both my knees were shot.  25 years of playing power volleyball was probably the cause.  The doctor recommended replacing both knees, one at a time.

It didn’t help that I was slightly overweight.  I say “slightly” in much the same way that you would say a woman with child is “slightly pregnant.”  Let’s face it, at the time I gave the Hindenburg a run for its money.  At just 5’5” tall weighing over 200 pounds, I was quite the little porker.  I managed to lose 10 pounds before the surgery.

The operation was a success, although the physical therapy that followed often reminded me of the Spanish Inquisition – the equipment if not similar, produced the same levels of pain.  I was ready to confess all of my sins, but it wouldn’t have made the pain stop. 

One bright note however, was a massive weight loss.  Without trying, somehow I lost 30 pounds (good number!) in just a few months.  My doctor told me that the healing process with a knee replacement burns 6500 calories a day.  On top of that, in consulting with my in house Historian (my wife), she told me that the pain medicine took away my appetite.  For the first time in years, I was down to the low 160’s. Yay!

While I was continuing my recovery my doctor gave me a cortisone shot to reduce the pain in my left knee, the one still awaiting surgery.  Then he informed me that he was facing mandatory retirement soon because of his age.  He suggested I seek further treatment with one of his associates.

I decided to wait until the pain came back in my left knee.  I think once my left knee saw what the right knee went through it said, “Hell to the no!” and stopped hurting for not months, but years! 

Apparently, there was a lot more tread on that puppy than either I or my doctor had assumed.  I went 5 more years before it started really hurting again.

Which brings us to the point of this story.  I’m having my left knee replaced on October 25, 2022.  For the past few weeks, I’ve been doing all the things necessary related to my surgery.  Besides locating all of the post-operative gear I used last time like the walker, cane, toilet riser, and ice machine, I purchased the vitamin supplements my new doctor suggested I take to boost my bone strength and immune system. 

The last thing I needed to do was take the form that my doctor provided, and visit the license office to get a temporary handicapped parking placard. 

I got on the Bridgeton License Bureau webpage and it said that they opened at 7:30 AM.  I arrived there at 8:28 AM and there were 6 people standing in front.  I joined them and at 8:30 AM an employee arrived and went in through another door.

As I waited with the others I read the sign on the glass that said they didn’t open until 9:00 AM. I looked at the other people.  In my old age, I always try to be aware of my surroundings and the people near me.  The closest person to me was a tall black man, who looked to be in his 30’s.  He smiled a lot, and had a friendly demeanor.  I made a mental note: “He’s a happy guy, and there’s no reason to view him as a threat.”  Then I saw a mean looking old white guy.  I said to myself, “He may be trouble – he looks like he hasn’t had any sex for a long time.”  Then I realized I was looking at my reflection in the glass. 

 I did the math.  It was 58 degrees, it was raining, and I have the patience of a 2 year old – so I left.

I returned at 2:30 PM and went inside.  More math:  Let’s see, I counted 22 people seated and waiting to be called, BUT, some of them were waiting to either get their driver’s license renewed or get a new one, or get a passport picture taken.  There were 2 women calling people for everything else.  Let’s say 10 of the 22 were for licenses, that left 12 divided by 2 equals 6.  In my head, there were only 6 people ahead of me, not 22.

After I finished that complicated math analysis, I went to take a number.  A nice young woman near the table where the ticket machine was located pointed out a ticket that someone had pulled but not used that was on the table.  I thanked her for this random act of kindness.

Now I realized there was a much easier and more precise way to gauge my waiting time.  I had number 01, and they were on number 88.  101 – 88 = 13 divided by 2 = 6.5 people ahead of me.  Actually, I was only off by half a person from my original computation.

While I waited I had a new math problem to solve.  How many people here aren’t wearing a mask?  I was wearing one, but only a fraction of the people seated around me were.  I started to do the math, when a guy 3 seats away started sneezing.  Oh Jeez! 

Before I could run some new numbers in my head, based on the mathematical probability of “Sneezy” having Covid, another guy to my right started coughing.  YIKES!  I started to pray to St. Hugo, patron saint of elderly idiots, to grant me protection from all of the disease carrying people around me.  Then I worried, “What if one of the people in this room has Monkey Pox?” 

Calm down Stu, calm down!  I was really working myself into a lather, but then I thought, “Wait, you got a Moderna Covid Booster shot 2 weeks ago, you’re wearing a mask, and as long as you don’t have sex with any of the other men in the room, you should be fine with the Monkey Pox.”

I didn’t have time to do any more math, my number was called.  I got my handicapped placard, and decided on the way back home, maybe I should lay off the math for a while.

9/29/22