My brother forwarded a collection of images of outstanding test failures. I liked this one very much. It reminded me of the Little Prince’s drawing that was not a hat. Physics, you see, must be full of elephants we can’t see.
Last week, I had an appointment with a sports medicine specialist because regular doctors have different goals than I do. For instance, I believe I should be able to dance until I turn a gilded 100, though medical professionals regard this as evidence of a fantasy-prone personality. It’s hard to convince doctors you, as the user of your body, might know something about what’s wrong with it, but I managed with the sports medicine specialist. He was very serious about the narrowing of channels and calcification, radiating pain and “bone remodeling” – in fact, he was so serious that when he mentioned the hip joints appeared impact damaged I didn’t make a joke. I didn’t make a joke about going back to my first love, the trampoline – or being one. I passed up the line about going from speed dating to carbon dating. I even kept my trap shut when I wondered if my hip joints could be replaced with Slinkys. I smiled a lot and made an appointment for physical therapy.