"There she sit's a buddy just gleamin' in the sun..."

The belt lined up just fine and damn if it didn't start on the first go round. My buddy Skip came by and we held up a tube full of gas and a fire extinguisher and hit the starter button.

So, it popped and sputtered once of twice and then POW - right into idle. We put the tanks on an buttoned a few odds and ends and then I decided to wait until the weekend to fire it up in the street.


 

What Would Warren Build Part 5


So I decided to stop being Superman and do what everybody wanted - even though I wasn't convinced, I had pretty much run out of options and most certainly was running out of drug options. I called the surgeon (remember him?) and said I was ready. Let's get it on, get it over and get on with getting better.

The surgeon agreed (we'll call him Dr. Surgeon #1) and we began to make the arrangements.

Well, sometime during the "making of the arrangements" we had some discussions about the surgery. It seems that after closer examination maybe the results wouldn't be 80% successful, they'd be more like 75% - oh, and after viewing the xrays again, maybe it would be more like 50%. Seems my surgery projections went from 90-10 to 50-50 in about two weeks. But really, considering that I was in excruciating pain, running out of sympathetic Pain doctors I really didn't have many other options - besides 50-50 was pretty good, right?

I knew that some people had "failed" back surgery - but that was other people. I trusted my doctor, they knew what they were talking about so all would go good right? Right?


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