In response to the hundreds of letters and e-mailings I received, I will finish the tale of the "miraculous cure."

To summarize: When I was 4 years old, I had a disease called Genu Valgum or "knock knees." My mother took me to a physician who recommended cod liver oil (not castor oil as I misstated). Cod liver oil, the foul smelling, fish-tasting cure did not work, as I am happy to relate. Let me now pick up the tale.

It was 1938, and no one had any money, but my mother kept going to physician after physician. Not one offered any real hope nor any solution, but my mother did not stop trying. She would not or could not be satisfied that her son would spend his life as a "cripple."

Because of my age, and because it happened 62 years ago, and because all my family's historians have long departed, the story gets a bit fuzzy at this point.

My mother found a surgeon who convinced her that an operation was the only answer. His name was Dr. A. (a long beautiful Italian name that I should remember, but I do not). He said to my mother, "If they call him a 'knock-kneed bum' it will hurt him terribly." This statement was the convincer. My mother repeated it to me over a thousand times.

The operation: Both upper leg bones would be broken and reset. The patient (me) would be encased in a plaster body cast for approximately 10 months. The cast would extend from my toes to mid-chest with appropriate openings for bodily functions.

After the operation, I was whisked off to a convalescent home in Far Rockaway. I have seen pictures of this place and it looked barren and foreboding. My parents would visit me on weekends and I have been told that I was an adorable patient and all the nurses loved me (told to me by my mother). I also have seen pictures of myself wearing a "Charley McCarthy" sweatshirt. Remember Charley, Mortimer Snerd and Edgar Bergen?

Today I have bilateral six-inch scars on both my thighs, but the treatment worked. I am a fairly good athlete and I owe it all to my mother's persistence.

As one kind letter writer from Hicksville, Kathy Stroessner stated, "I'm sure that wouldn't be the cure today. How awful!" She is definitely right. Modern medicine performs miracles on a daily basis.

I owe a lot to that Dr. A. and my mother. About five years ago I read his obituary notice in the New York Times. I never spoke to him after the convalescence but my mother blessed him a thousand times.

This entire reminiscence returned to me when I wrote about the "false miraculous cure," cod liver oil.

PS: Correction: Last week's column should have been entitled "Removing Imperfections." Please reread the Oct. 27 column with the proper title. A homework assignment for my readers.