The last two days have been days of adjustment. Friday, I got the cast on my right foot. It's interesting what losing your dominant foot does. You don't realize the little things like getting out of bed - your first step is with your dominant side. Same
with walking up steps/stairs. You go to your dominant side first. Life in the tri-level is interesting because I have to deal with stairs on a regular basis. I may end up sleeping on the family room level just to avoid one longer set of stairs, as opposed to the five steps into the kitchen/living room level. So, I'm getting used to doing things differently - again.
I've been fishing, maybe a dozen times in my life. Maybe. There are a couple things I remember about those widely separated
experiences. One - you have to have the proper equipment. Two - you have to have the proper bait. Three - you have to have the proper amount of patience.
If you don't have those three minimally, you won't be much of a success fishing.
I recently returned from Minneapolis. C and I have been on the road a lot lately and it has been for the most part absolutely wonderful.
When last I wrote I talked about flying being a rather uncivilized method of transportation. The security line was long, but C and I got through fairly quickly as I had the use of a wheelchair. I'm back to not walking, the Charcot foot appears to be making itself known in my right foot now.
Recently I saw Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on the big screen. There were speed boats, motorcycles with side-cars, regular cars, tanks, horses, airplanes, and even a zeppelin that the intrepid explorer and his father used in their escapades.
Every time I see the scene with the zeppelin I'm struck by two things. One is the clientele on the zeppelin. The wealthy and well-heeled, and the staff. Traveling by air was a class act and people got dressed up for it. Cabin staff waited on people like they were in a nice bar or restaurant. People were polite. It had the appearance of civility.
Back in the late 60's there was a musical called "Hair". There were over 30 songs in that musical, including "Aquarius" and "Good Morning Starshine," along with the title song, "Hair." It is reported that Tim Curry (Rocky Horror Picture Show) got his start in the musical when it performed in London. Diane Keaton (Looking for Mr. Goodbar) starred in the musical in New York. It was a ground-breaking show due to the subject matter (calling for an end to the Vietnam war as well as a fair amount of nudity.
The lyrics for "Hair" are interesting: She asks me why I'm just a hairy guy I'm hairy noon and night Hell that's a fright I'm hairy high and low Don't ask me why Don't know It's not for lack of bread Like the Grateful Dead Darling Gimme head with hair Long beautiful hair Shining, gleaming, Streaming, flaxen, waxen
They (whoever 'they' are) say that change is good. Sometimes. Sometimes change is forced on us without our consent, like when we develop a medical issue or complications from a procedure. In that case, perhaps change isn't so much good as it is necessary.
Now that I am being booted on my other foot, I am 'enjoying' change again. The past two months had been rather nice, being able to fully use both feet. We were working on redeveloping my gait; I was walking around pretty well in Baltimore, each day feeling like my ankles and foot were getting stronger. Somehow, the base of my second toe broke. I doubt it was anything I did while I was walking using both feet. So, change has been forced. Changed was forced on all of us when we were informed we were no longer needed by our former employer. Some folk bounced back fairly quickly from the announcement, not waiting until the bitter end before they began to look for a new employer. They missed severance and unemployment. Given all the roadblocks several of us have run in to, they probably chose the better path.
I've taken the past few days off to process some information I've received in the last forty-eight hours.
Mortality is a very real, tangible thing. I was speaking with a woman in line at the pharmacy today. She was in a foot contraption, had a cervical collar around her neck and told me she had a pain management system implanted under her skin. She'd been rear-ended six times in the last year on a rather busy road on our side of town. I told her I was quite familiar with the road as I drove it for the past four years and knew how congested it could get. Then she told me the company she worked for. I could barely believe what I'd heard as she named the company-that-shall-be-named. She worked in a different division than the one I worked in but had heard of the lay offs. The lady was just 60. Hunched over the way she was (she'd had several back surgeries and was preparing for yet another), thin with gray-blonde hair she appeared much, much older.
