The afternoon was foggy. I took five Percocet instead of one when my medicine was due. My left arm was so swelled when I moved it I had honest-to-Jesus worries it might bust open. The doctor had already said yesterday if the steroids didn’t work he’d have to do a flaying procedure to keep me from losing it completely.  “Flay sounds bad,” I said to him when he told me. “Where’s that leave me?” “A significant part of your arm,” he said, “will be gone. I’ll save what I can, bu