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A couple of years ago, my doctor made one of those scrunched-up faces he gets when talking about my left knee.
It’s a face that says, indirectly, I’m looking at a bionic knee or two down the road.
Those of you who have followed me for the past 11 years or so know I’m no stranger to surgery. At least one of them saved my life.
But this is one surgery I don’t want to have.
After last year’s talk with my doc, I backed down on my hiking. I quit trying to run. I put away my tennis racquet.
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