What’s a Joint Like You Doing in a Nice Guy Like This?

By J. Harris Anderson

[Editor’s Note #1: This satirical piece first appeared in the December 2012/January 2013 issue. Since then, the author has added one more joint point to his tally (left hip), although he remains at the Junior Jointer level.]

When golfers get together, they compare scores, brands of clubs, and favorite courses. When foxhunters get together, they compare fractures, concussions, and joint replacements.

The first two have been relevant since the sport began. The third is a fairly recent topic of conversation. It is also the bonding element of a new, and growing, subculture: the Joint Replacement Club (JRC). I became an entrylevel member of the JRC in 2010 when my old, worn out, right hip was replaced with a wondrously artful assembly of titanium and ceramic parts. I say “entry-level” because initiation into this select group revealed a clear hierarchy among the members, a stratification based on both the number and type of replacements.

Not all joints are created equal. Hence neither are their replacements. The knee, for instance, is mechanically more complex than the hip, the latter being a simple ball-and-socket design. The knee is also more weight-bearing and hence the post-replacement recovery may take longer. Consequently, a person who has had one knee replaced automatically outranks a mere onehipster on the Joint Points scale. Shoulders top the list, garnering three full points per joint. The most exalted members of the club are those who have undergone replacements of the replacements; all point values are doubled.

The Joint Points scale begins with the simple assignment of one point for a hip, two for a knee, and three for a shoulder. Each joint then entitles the bearer to his or her entry-level rank: Happy Hipster, Knight of Knees, or member of the Chivalrous Order of the Shoulder. (As with the terms “Huntsman” and “Master,” JRC titles are gender-neutral.)

Further titular stratification is then based on total amassed point values:

PointsTitle

1-3Junior Jointer

4Baron of Bionics

5Rajah of Repairs

6Archduke of Arthroplasty

7Prince of Prosthetics

8Monarch of Motion

9 and upEmperor of Ambulation

One’s title then determines one’s position of choice in the hunt field, seating selection at the ball, and exemption from summer trail clearing duties.

Surgical technology has advanced to where most any joint in the human body can be repaired or replaced. But that doesn’t mean the venerable JRC is willing to admit just anyone who’s had, say, a thumb joint tweaked. Nor is someone who has undergone a less common but more complex procedure a viable candidate. Those in the former cohort may think themselves the equal of one who has spent hours on the surgical table and months in recov- ery. The latter are likely to consider themselves instantly vaulted to nothing less than Archduke of Arthroplasty status. And the more joints accepted, the more arduous the Joint Point math. (Consider, as well, that a significant portion of JRC members have probably experienced a few TBIs (traumatic brain injuries) during their riding and hunting years. Thus our cognitive and calculation skills are likely to be somewhat impaired. Ciphering beyond single digits becomes a vexation.)

Given those exclusions, you might think the JRC is open to none but a narrow slice of foxchasers, a population sample more miniscule than Mensa members. Yet you would be surprised to find how many of those riding alongside you in the hunt field could walk through airport security naked and still set off the metal detector. And JRC membership covers the range of hunting enthusiasts, at least for those of a certain age, including a substantial number of huntsmen, masters, and staff.

You might, in rare instances, glimpse a hint of scarring, perhaps a healed incision along knee or shoulder at, say, a summer picnic or pool party. Catching sight of the hip scar requires, shall we say, a deeper level of friendship. For the most part, however, the general public is blind to the presence of JRC members who walk—quite well, thank you —among them.

Such invisibility is a testament to the skills of our surgeons and physical therapists, as well as to the wonders of modern medical procedures. Our more learned readers will know the name Isaac “Ikey” Bell, famous master and huntsman in the early part of the 20th Century. According to historical accounts, Bell’s arthritis became so crippling by the 1930s that he tried riding sidesaddle in an effort to continue hunting his hounds. Alas, that did not prove effective and, while then only in his 50s, he had to give up hunting altogether.

Fortunately, if riding aside does not alleviate joint pain, an exercise regimen and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory medications (NSAIDs) might, but only for a while. Once the twinge is felt, the clock starts ticking. And though the twingee may attempt denial and self-delusion, rest assured JRC membership awaits.

Fear not though. We are a welcoming lot. Though but a Happy Hipster of Junior Jointer status, I have been warmly accepted into the club. Where I might have previously found conversation difficult with some people, I now find ample fodder for tailgate talk focused on who has had which parts done, and where each person ranks on the Joint Points scale. I’m also pleased to say the new right hip has performed marvelously well. So well, in fact, that its partner is now showing signs of envy. The left side twinge has begun, the clock is ticking. Today a Junior Jointer, soon a Baron of Bionics.

[Editor’s Note #2: Nothing in this article should be considered reliable medical information. The author’s medical credentials are, to put it charitably, non-existent.]