OK. So there's that done!
Those of you who said the hip surgery would be far worse in the anticipation than in the actual event were absolutely right.
I was given a spinal anesthesia along with the twilight general, and waking up a paraplegic was mighty weird indeed. In the recovery room, soon after the general wore off, I felt around on my lifeless lower half to assess the damage. I was mildly interested to note that the surgeons had left some kind of sponge, or perhaps a bundle of surgical gauze, in my lap. Not until a while later, having fumbled around with it for a bit trying to remove it to throw it away did I realize that it was attached to me -- it was my once-mighty Package.
Sensation did return to it, and the rest of my lower half, an hour later, but having that utterly dead hunk of gristle affixed to my loins was pretty unpleasant.
I'm home now, trussed and iced to the gills, in the bosom of my family, crutches and painkillers at the ready. I do have a dull, persistent ache on my left side, but it's nothing my excellent friend Vicodin and I can't handle. It feels no worse at the moment than a very bad sprain. The surgeon pronounced himself quite pleased with the procedure, saying that it shows every sign of success in the early stages.
So here on the couch will I stay for the next few days. I've hobbled about a bit, testing the limits on my mobility with crutches. I've realized that after six weeks of keeping every tiny bit of weight off my left leg, my right leg is going to become a tower of muscular power. Perhaps I'll rent it out for the World Cup.
My deepest thanks again to everybody who dropped in with words of encouragement. I hope that in a very short time I will be able to get my mind off my body and thinking about other more amusing and instructive stuff that I can share with you.
Right now: Typing hurts. I will stop for now.