I have not walked on two legs for nearly 40 days. That's not kvetching, mind you, it's just a fact. For a person who has trouble waiting on a microwave, this has been a real test of patience.
It was a short journey. Brilliant lights swung into view. A disembodied hand lowered a mask over my nose and mouth. A voice said “oxygen” to no one in particular. I drew a breath and slipped into the void known only by God.
The lanky surgeon leaned back on his stool. His feet touched the floor. His head touched the wall. Thus elongated, he grimaced, then pronounced, "it's avulsed."
"Avulsed," of course, is doctorspeak for "you ripped that sucker clean off the bone."