A BLT sandwich is my favorite, and was one I usually ordered two of when I ate in the company cafeteria decades ago.
In the world of post-op spinal surgery, BLT stands for three things not to do for a while as you recover. BEND, LIFT and TWIST. Use your legs to lower and raise yourself; do not lift anything greater than 10 pounds, and do not twist your body to reach for something. Turn your body so that you face whatever it is you're trying to reach.
The pre-op literature they give you advises against against BLT for at least two weeks after surgery. Your post-op visit is in two weeks after surgery. In my case, even in the pre-op holding area the surgeon and his fleet of PAs (physician assistants) reminded me about BLT.
"Now you know what BLT is, right?
"Yes, I've read about it. It's my favorite sandwich."
"I like them as well, with a piece of avocado on top."
"You're kidding me. You're probably a guy who likes hummus."
"Well. my three-year-old loves hummus." Spreads it all around and eats it."
"Hummus is wallpaper paste. It looks like what you'd buy a gallon of at the paint store. In fact, I never knew what hummus was. My oldest son-in-law loves hummus. When I once asked what that lump of brown stuff in the refrigerator was, he told me it was 'hummus.'"
"Yeah, and what the hell is hummus?"
"It's ground chick peas."
"You're kidding. I somewhat like chick peas. Whole chick peas. Tad's Steaks seemed to sprinkle a few into the green leaves they called the salad you got when you bought one of their steaks, originally $1.19 in the 60s. Later a $1.29. Later who knows what, and then they disappeared. I'm not sure they're missed.
"In fact, in the early 60s and 70s there was place on Park Avenue South between I think 18th and 17th Streets called "Max's Kansas City." The neon sign announced the name and that they had "Chick Peas."
My father and I passed the place most evenings when we closed up the flower shop and headed for the 16th Street entrance to the BMT to go to 34th Street and Penn Station, to take the Port Washington train home to Murray Hill. All short trips.
Neither of us ever knew what Max's Kansas City was. When we passed it it was dark, say 8:00, 8:30 P.M. and there didn't seem to be any activity going on. It looked partially lit, but I could never tell what the place was all about.
My father and I were basically both ignorant of NYC nightlife. I was maybe 12, although his destination sometimes lead him to Port Said, a Greek, Middle Eastern belly dance cavern somewhere on Eighth Avenue. (I was never there.)
It wasn't until sometime in the latter 60s when I was working that someone at work mentioned Max's Kansas City as a place where one of the co-workers played in with a rock band. Perhaps a punk rock band. I don't know. They did cut a record, but my curiosity took me no further.
I 'm not sure I 've ever gotten over that chick peas could appear on a neon sign for a place that I knew nothing of, and that ground chick peas was hummus.
The image of a piece of avocado on a BLT sandwich is now something I can't get out of my head.
Recovery seems speedy. Thanks for asking.
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