A few months ago, I received a diagnosis from my orthopaedic (“orthopaedic” sounds more Latin) doctor about my hip sockets, courtesy of his version of the “divination of bones,” (not by a random casting and scattering of animal bones on the ground, but a more scientific “reading” of my bones via x-ray).

It seems my two pair of “mortar and pestles” have become, in the doctor’s words: “Square pegs in round holes.” My cousin Trish Garrison Mulloy identifies herself on Facebook as a “Square peg in a round world,” but in her delightful postings, she only generates positiveness and creativity, no negativity nor painful friction.

I look forward to my hip replacement surgery, as I am surely becoming the Tin Man (to whom Oz never did give nothin’ that he didn’t already have). At least I’m still in somewhat better shape than that cake left out in the rain at MacArthur Park.

I now understand some of the “micro-topography” of the ground with which my mother (Lorraine Williams) had to contend later-in-life. When lower limbs reach the point that feet can only be raised just so high, even something such as the extra bit of grass which comes from a yard being only a week overdue for mowing seems to be almost as obstructive to walking as an abandoned, overgrown field.

I have become proficient with the crook of my cane in dealing with many things, closing doors, putting on trousers, lifting plastic Food Lion bags (also Walmart, Dollar General, CVS, etc.).

For the putting on of underwear, though, I prefer my cane to a “grabber,” because of the danger of accidentally grabbing “things” I might not have intended to grab.

But neither cane nor grabber can defend against the random bee or wasp. Not being able to run from them, I must try to stay in their good graces.

Although I have adapted my cane for about the same number of uses which Moses used his staff, the things he did with his staff were a lot “showier.”

The orthopedic doctor let me “play with” a ceramic ball and socket in his office just like the one I’ll be getting. Playing with my implanted one will be called “physical therapy.”

The fluidity of movement of that ball and socket was amazing! One of those “cushiony” squeeze balls sitting on the office desk couldn’t possibly relieve as much stress as they (they’re going to relieve a lot of stress in my hip!).

The other day I had a strange thought connected to my arthritic hip bones (some of you might think “He must have had arthritis all his life,” no, just some strange thoughts now and then).

I saw a man in his thirties jogging and thought if I were only like “The Mummy” (1999) who sort of acted out a morbid version of Johnny Cash’s “One Piece at a Time,” taking parts which he needed from other people until he was “Together Again”(Buck Owens, by the way), that man would go jogging past me and then he would collapse.

At the hospital they would discover his hip bones had disappeared, but wouldn’t guess even for an instant that they were now in place on my skeleton (now that’s a strange thought, and a creepy one too).

On the way into work the other day, I saw a young lady walking down the sidewalk with the most fluid hip motion I’d ever seen and thought: “Wow! She must have been born with ceramic hips!”( I’d like to have more fluidity in my hips, but perhaps not that much).

I’ll get my right hip replaced (7/25/17), then, later on, the left (not on my own accord, rather, prescribed by the orthopaedic doctor).

But it would be great to have most everything replaced and get fitted up with that really neat life-support suit that Anakin Skywalker got!

Or become like Yul Brynner’s character in “Westworld”(1970), (that might be kinda’ fun too).