Have you ever had surgery? What for?

PROSE – CREATIVE NON-FICTION

I’ve been under the blade a few times in my short time on this side of the veil. I’m not precisely accident-prone but in the words of Pop. “If you gonna do anything, do it right.” I might as well scream at the top of my lungs, “Yes sir!” like those military folks in boot camp. You know, as you see on the shows.

Today, I’d like to direct your attention 1976. I was a wee lad. I hadn’t graduated from Wrigley’s to Bazooka Joe yet. Col. Steve Austin was on the airwaves doing fantastic with his bionic parts. So, I ran around making sounds heard every time he used his bionics.

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As it happens, 1976 was the year Kurt Thomas competed in the Summer Olympics. I watched that guy do his thing, and I was floored. He was so good; my grandma let me watch him every time he was on the TV. Now this was a woman who firmly believed in children going outside to play. I can only think of one exception; rain “cause you’d catch cold.”

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So, at the start of the school year, I decided to show off my new gymnast skills. These skills comprised doing a back flip off the swing set and crossing the creek on a fallen tree. Now this didn’t qualify me to become a gymnast by any stretch, but by God, not a soul was going to me any different.

In gym class, I decided to jump off the top of the jungle gym. The first time was a disaster; I didn’t nail the landing. I fell back, can you believe it? Just shameful. The second attempt was perfect dismount; since I failed the first time, I went for broke. I did a triple somersault with a one-half twist. That’s right, un-huh, I was showing out. Perfect execution. I nailed the landing. Things went to hell from there.

Well, I broke my hip. I can only remember fragments of that period, but I can remember hollering as they rolled me to surgery, “I don’t want a bionic leg!”, “I don’t want to be the Six Million Dollar Man.” I ended up in traction, then a body cast. Good times for all, especially my mother because had to change my bedpan.