Twenty-Four Hours Post-Op

While training for a distance swim,
I overdid things in the gym.
I'm glad no one was there to watch;
I had a blow-out in my "crotch".

My surgeon Bill just laughed and said,
"We'll patch you up on Monday, Ed."
He showed the mesh that would rejoin
The ruptured fascia of my groin.

As I lay still in Adam's sleep,
The mesh was placed, both high and deep.
Like Samson shorn, strength grows and lasts
As mesh fills in with fibroblasts.

When the last trumpet's note is sounded
And I from dust am re-compounded,
Will I rise up with perfect flesh,
Or still retain this piece of mesh?

I'd ask the Architect Divine,
"Leave the mesh in, if choice be mine."
Praise Him Who to mere humans gave
The mind and skill to heal and save.
Meet Ed