The Orthopedic Psalm Poem by Doug Lane

The LORD is my surgeon; I shall not want for artificial joints.

He maketh me to lie down in O.R.'s: he leadeth me beside the still anaesthesia.

He restoreth my hip: he inserteth into me tons of titanium for my knee's sake.

Yea, though I gimp through the valley of the shadow of rehab, I will fear no evil: for Oxycontin art with me; thy oxycodone and thy fentanyl they comfort me.

Thou preparest a workout before me in the presence of mine therapists: thou swellest my wounds with edemas; my joints runneth over.

Surely creakiness and misery shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of Medicare for ever.