This sent signals to a Doppler machine in a room next to my bed. By turning the knob ever so gently at any moment for the next several days, observers could tune in to listen to the current whoosh of my blood as it flowed through that particular vein. Maybe my goofiest personal reaction of all came upon my discovery of my left thigh, bare of its epidermal layer and looking like a segment of ruby red grapefruit. What seemed a transparent tent of wrinkled skin encased the upper leg like the lax hide of an aging pachyderm. I gasped in horror.
Medical science can do only so much.
At 76, I heal more slowly. Some functions return only grudgingly. The good news is that cancer can be conquerable. Useful life is prolongable. And there really are miracles.