Lately I have been suffering form an injury in the left foot. It’s not serious, but troubling enough to make me a "cripple." A "recovery" war is waged. To be honest, I keep imagining the time when those viruses throw in the towel. The truth is:every stroy doesn’t necessarily have a happy ending. Medicine may not be the best weapon. It can fight against the wound; always uncompromisingly but sometimes unsatisfactorily, however efficient it claims to be. I don’t dare to damage or even downplay the role of its deeply entrenched status. I must come to terms with what truns out in the war. But for me it’s no more a surrender than a compromise. Rather it’s suitably described as " ’not giving up’ in the name of giving up."