Pop is in our little hospital right now, having outpatient surgery on his foot. For us, this is a big deal, because it means that Pop actually decide the problem was big enough to go see a doctor about it. He's not really big on seeking outside help. I guess it runs in the family.
Anyway, he and Mom had been preparing for a trip next week, in which he and his best friend were to hike a section of the Appalachian Trail while Mom drove the car to shuttle them back to base camp each night. That's not going to happen on Monday (postponed at least another week). Pop told Mom the other day that he thought he might have stepped on something, and it was irritating him a little. Day two, he said, "No it's turf toe." Day three, it was swollen, very tender and looking really ugly. Day four, surgery to remove a small sliver of metal... and drain the infected material. He'll come home with his foot in a surgical boot, and won't be able to do much for a couple of weeks. This means no walking the dog, not even easy strolls (Mom & I will probably split that responsibility). It means no digging in the garden. No swimming, either, for at least two weeks.
The man is going to be grumpy at best, if all goes well with the surgery.