The coffee at Coutume in Paris is so good and so pretty it needed to have its picture taken last time I was there. And although I wish I were there now, looking at that crema and recalling the taste makes me happy, particularly since I will be there soon.
The miracles of modern medicine never cease to amaze me. Years ago I was a lawyer representing people who had been injured in accidents, many with back injuries that they were told required surgery. In way too many cases major surgery delivered minor relief and sometimes made things much worse.
So when my doctor told me that I probably needed back surgery my first response was an unequivocal no. I would wait, I'd have therapy, I'd get better. Besides, I was leaving for Paris in a few days. By the time I got results from the MRI it was the night before our departure and I was all packed to go when a call from my brilliant retired doctor pal made me rethink that decision. Early the next morning my internist managed to get me in to see a neurosurgeon (thanks for pulling whatever strings you pulled, Dr. CK) just hours before we had to leave for the airport.
The surgeon told me I could fly and there was maybe a 70% chance the problem would resolve on its own. But if not, I might be left with a foot drop that would accompany me to my grave. Since I hope that's going to be a long time I really didn't want to have that companion for that long. So just like that I decided to take the 100% fix option, even if it meant no Paris that day.
And guess what? Here's where the miracles of modern medicine come in. Things have changed enormously in the years since I last noticed. This was no major deal; micro-surgery, a one-inch incision, a bit of scraping, and back home the same day. Good drugs although very little need for them, a good night's sleep for the first time in a couple of weeks and looks like I'll be good to go very soon. Go where? Guess. That coffee is calling my name.
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