We met at the HMI for dinner and drinks on Friday night.  Dr. Mitchell hobbled in with his cast on up to his knee, begging our staff surgeon, Bill DeMuth, to cut the dan**@# thing off TONIGHT!  So we settled up the tab and brought Doc up to Dr. DeMuth's room whence Bill pulled out a pro saw and cut the dan$#% thing right off then and there.  The issue of who is to be billed for this will be settled later.  Beer was passed around in celebration and four companions talked till 2:00 AM, catching up on important issues.   Read more about the cast removing event.

    Saturday morning came too soon, so the rabble shuttled over to Tops Diner (seeings how Grubbs is in now up in Erie along Route 6 and no one felt like driving that far).  We had a great training meal of steak and eggs (force of habit) amid the eclectic mob at Tops.   The Juniata College home track meet vs. E-town and Messiah started at 11:00 and we were there for that.  High winds and cold temperatures spoiled any hopes of good times, but the meet proceeded.  Eric and Jason Hoover ran the 3000 meter steeplechase and were among the top four (all unattached).  Justin Fritzius, JC grad and school record holder, won the steeple.  Chris Shaeffer, also recent JC grad and mucho record holder took 2nd in the 5K.   Another Juniata Great, Sean Rumery, competed and did well in the 3000 meter run and in the Mile Relay with the 'unattached' alumni.  Complete results of the meet are at: http://athletics.juniata.edu/mtrack//0809results/Results%2009%20JC%20Tri%20Meet.htm   There was a very good attendance at the meet despite the weather.

    After the meet, 6 of us: Larry, Grant, Bill D, Bill S, George, and Dana ran up the goat path to the flagpole, then to the peace circle and back.  The "'80s guys" headed back to Jersey after that, and the rest of us got ready for the dinner at the Mitchell's.

    Becky and Don knocked themselves out as usual with a fantastic ham dinner, pineapple sauce, smashed yams, and lots of other goodies.  We didn't keep the usual hours of staying till 4:00AM, but broke up about midnight.  Eric performed his new song for the group.  We had one minor mishap:  Eric and Jason had parked on the side lot and got their car stuck in the mud.  After much effort and mud slinging, we finally managed to bully and finesse the car out.

    Postlude:  A good time was had by all.  Reserve April weekends for next year.  Cross off Easter, look for a home meet, and that will be the likely weekend chosen.
 

Hi everyone, Becky and I enjoyed having you visit. We also are enjoying your
comments. I have to report on my visit to the doctor today. Neither he nor
his nurse commented on me not having a cast on and this nurse is the one who
put the cast on.  I finally mentioned that I had slept much better since the
cast was cut off last Friday.  No comment from the good doctor.  I mentioned
twice more about the cast being cut off last Friday still no comment.  I
decided either it's expected that patients cut off their own casts or that
Bill contacted him Monday morning and told him what happened and for him to
not let on that anything had happened.  Or, and this is a little scary, that
surgeons routinely don't remember if they put casts on their patients.

Thanks for coming,
Don and Becky

Paul Wilson

Doc--

Did you happen to get a good look at your surgeon's eyes during this
interaction in the office?

I wondered if they were downcast or not.

Maybe the fellow just felt that he had to keep up appearances.

Now it occurs to me that we all should have signed that cast before Bill
excised it.  Then it truly would have been a cast of characters--or rather,
given the MAC championship team, an all-star cast.

In any case, I'm happy to hear that you're still shaking a leg in
Huntingdon.

Try to avoid getting yourself into any future pickles.

Best,

Brian

HMI: Hôpital Médecins International              By  Brian T. Maurer

The surgeon called for more light. One of the observers reached for the switch on the wall above the bed.

The patient reclined by the table; a set of aluminum crutches rested against the ancient heating unit below the curtained window.

The surgeon inserted a grounded plug into a nearby electrical outlet and tested the circular saw. “Capable of cutting through bone but not the human skin,” he remarked, holding the vibrating blade against his open palm to demonstrate the effect. The group of observers huddled in silence; no one spoke.

“Towel,” the surgeon said. Someone threw a freshly laundered rectangular piece of white terry cloth onto the floor beneath the patient’s swollen foot.

The surgeon dropped to one knee and deftly rotated the patient’s lower leg, exposing the medial aspect of the hardened cast. Several observers bent down, inclining their heads for a better view. “Give him some room,” someone said. “You’re blocking the light.”

Once more the surgeon flipped the switch on the saw. The group of observers drew one collective breath as the surgeon lifted the unit into position above the cast. “You want something to bite on?” one of the observers asked. The patient resolutely shook his head and remained mute.

A searing sound ensued as the surgeon pressed the vibrating blade into the hardened plaster. A fine spray formed an elongating swath of scarlet on the white towel as the surgeon worked. The observers glanced at the patient’s face, then quickly focused their attention on the growing incision beneath the surgeon’s saw.

When he had completed the cut along the entire medial aspect of the cast, the surgeon rotated the patient’s leg and proceeded to repeat the procedure along the lateral aspect. Once again the small saw whined as it cut through the plaster, emitting a fine crimson spray. One of the observers turned away, unable to watch any longer, and reached for a beer. Soon the surgical blade was silenced.

The cast cracked open, revealing a soft white inner core.

“Knife,” the surgeon said. One of the observers reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a jackknife, which he unfolded and handed to the surgeon. “Should have brought a bandage scissor,” the surgeon grunted, as he proceeded to cut through the cotton with the glistening blade.

Finally it was done: the material had been stripped away, revealing atrophied calf muscles and edematous toes. “Can’t believe I had to study organic chemistry to be able to do that,” the surgeon mused as he unplugged the cast cutter and proceeded to coil the cord. “How does it feel?” he asked.

A serene look emanated from the patient’s face. “Wonderful!” he said. “So much better. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the surgeon said. “At least you won’t have to suffer with it through the weekend.”

Someone shoved a beer into the surgeon’s steady hand. “A toast—” Everyone raised a bottle. “To Bill. To Doc. To modern medicine.” In reverent silence each one took a lengthy pull on his bottle.

“You think this red dye from the cast will wash out of the towel?” someone asked.

“The towel can be replaced. It’s saving a life that counts.”

“Here, here! I’ll drink to that!”

And so we took another collective pull from the bottles and slapped the surgeon on the shoulder.

That was back when we were weekend orderlies at the HMI: Hôpital Médecins International.