Dead Man Walking

Well, I stand corrected on Moscow Mitch being dead..........

.......or do I? 

I don't even think it's an animatronic version of McConnell. The imagineers at Disney could have easily built something much more lifelike with smoother human movements than what we see here.

Do we think Mitch really had the ability to vote for anything??  Do we truly think he even has the cognitive ability to understand whatever the might might have been for?  I don't know if they press buttons for their votes or if they're verbal - but either way, he can't do it. I'm not quite sure a proxy can move the levers and such for him. 

The man has voted against paid time off and healthcare access. In theory (ha!) he should be ashamed to show his face at the Capitol. But the GOP doubles down on hypocrisy so I don't even know why I'm remotely surprised. 

Well, I hope whatever he has is painful with every breath and every movement. I hope he shits himself in that chair as often as BLOTUS does - and I love that one of his staffers has to clean it up. 

FUCK HIM. 

Song by: Mary Chapin Carpenter

Predictable

My lord - there is always a tweet. 

Always the telling, hypocritical tweet. 

First - I want to say, save for a reference in my 9/11 post and 12 of 12, I really haven't done a political post for over a month. 

That might be the upside to my accident and subsequent surgery. Silver lining, and all. I still feel I should be commended. 

I've only seen the headlines of BLOTUS' not so secret bribe to the American people. And I only 0% believe him. But the intent is there, even if the $5000 goods are not. 

Listen, I'm still waiting for my DOGE check and some other bullshit stimulus one too. I've based my entire retirement years on those two checks!   ........said just about everyone in Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama. 

But since the GOP is so adamant about fiscal responsibility, they'd be willing to add over a TRILLION dollars to an already increasing debt. 

Granted, headlines are just that, but I have yet to see one from any Republican saying 'we can't / shouldn't be doing that'. 

It doesn't really matter, as I assume beside it wouldn't be paid no matter what, but that there is fine print somewhere? 

What I saw was "if Republicans win", US adults would get 5k. 

It didn't say if the majority wins. Or if they keep the House and Senate. They said "if Republicans win".

I'm guessing a big fat fucking asterisk will show: if one state representative, who is republican, doesn't win their seat, there are no checks.  One dog catcher loses their race, you're not getting the check you weren't already getting anyways.  They now just have justification for it and then still keep the House and Senate due to a pseudo bribe. 

BLOTUS is saying paying for votes doesn't need congressional approval. And who knows - is that a thing, that rigged elections need congressional yays and nays? 

We are less than two months from the mid-terms and I have no inkling one way or the other that things are going for or against us. 

On an odd note, Ohio's Secretary of State mailed out our requests to do a mail-in vote. 

The odd thing?  Usually you have to request those and then they send them out. And what red state is unsolicitedly offering you to do mail in voting? HE is against mail-in voting. It all seems fishy. 

Don't get me wrong, we will get our absentee ballots, but we physically and personally drop them off. We don't put a stamp on them. I'm not trusting the postmaster general to help anyone out when it comes to democracy. 

Since polling is just down the street, I'm considering not doing mail in and just walking down and casting my ballot. Not that it is any less rigged. 

I'm so disillusioned, I just don't trust the system. 

Song by: the Kinks

My Music Monday

Whoo-Hoo......new music. 

The War on Drugs has a new song out, which precedes a new album in the near future. And it's about time. 

"Who's That" (there was no question mark in the title), came out this past Wednesday. 

Big fan of the group and I haven't played the song a lot. It doesn't stray far from their style. 

I say "their", but Adam Granduciel is the face, voice and writer of the group. Technically there are others, though this video won't prove that. 

They are indie rock for sure, usually with some interesting guitar work behind it all. 

Granduciel has a bit of a Dylan thing going on vocally - Bob, not Thomas. Even for him, "Who's That" the vocals are a bit muddied. I wish the mix were better. 

Granted it is new to me, so we will see how it grows on me. 

12 of 12

So I'm doing my 197th 12 of 12.

Normally it is 12 pictures taken on the 12th of the month. Since I only post once per day, you get my images the following day. All pictures taken with my iPhone. Click images to enlarge, if you choose.

Created by Chad Darnell and picked up from, what I can tell, any number of random bloggers who then link back to him and vice versa. Chad is no longer doing this, nor is successor coordinating the linking of other 12 of 12'ers anymore

07:01. Wake-up. 

To be even quasi-comfortable, I have to sleep with a pillow between my legs. 

07:32. Walker and Crutch. 

How Blobby navigates the stairs. 

07:38. Only so much oatmeal I want. Some days I have to switch it up. 

09:21. PT session avec dog. 

11:46. Yes, for the next two weeks I still need a shower chair. 

Actually, probably eight weeks.  I can't bend more than 90 degrees for 12 weeks total. 

12:02. Sneak Peak. 

Top of my scar. 

12;37. First time out of the house in SEVEN days. 

We met my sister and brother-in-law for lunch. It was great. Just forgot to get a pic. 

14:39. We stopped at Penzey's Spices on way home. 

They cost more, but they troll the fuck out of BLOTUS so I will pay more. 

This was a free spice kit they sent back with us. Read the red text. 

14:58. Oh - 710 forgot to load the walker into the car on the way to lunch. 

It was leaning against the car when we left, this is where it was found upon getting home. 

15:44. Reading one of two books. 

I should know better than to try two books at the same time. Both very different. 

17:50. Shep gets fed by the grabber. 

20:08.  P.M. Dolls

Hey, it's down from 11 to this. More go away in a week. 

So Tired

Better pics this week. Still only one by me, but that's ok. 

Being at home almost 24 / 7 is kind of a pain. Monday - Friday from 08:00 - 16:00 is a bit lonely, but I'm surviving. I can't keep Shep home because I can't walk him and lord knows I am not allowed to bend down to pick up his poop. 

Two more weeks and two days.  ......but who's counting???

This about sums it up for me these days.  Dog and my walker. 

Bailey after being boarded for five days. 

It's difficult to catch her when she's quiet. 

I miss having a cat. 

Lord that tongue. 

Song by: Eric Clapton

Lies

I had to check, but it's been five years since I touched on 9/11. 

It is not that I care to just because it's the 25th anniversary of. 

It is fucking BLOTUS. 

You know I'm not reading or watching news, but I've seen the social media shit about him saying something about how he was down at ground zero....rescuing people, or was rescued, or both or some such bullshit. 

I guess I want to know - as ANY new organization called "bullshit" on this?  Big or small outlet - I don't care. 

I know this is nothing new - he says outrageous things and people either don't challenge him or start to take it as "it's just him" which morphs into: it's a fact. 

I would LOVE someone in the media to say "liar".  ANYONE.  I'm kind of relying on you for an answer, because I don't want to do an Alta Vista search. 

The second part is Mamdani. 

Honestly, I might marry that man if I could. 

Do people really think out of the 2700+ people who died on 9/11 that the hijackers were the only Muslims who died? Out of all the people in the towers, the planes, the Pentagon or on the ground that no Muslims were killed on that day?  And that because Zohran is Muslim he has no right to be there? 

Again, if we are stereotyping all religions, then aren't all Catholics pedophiles? With that logic, it stands to reason. People are fucking loons.

Guliani, who I thought was supposed to be on death's door, has come back to ridicule the mayor?  But holy fuck - 170,000 released pages on Guliani and Bloomberg scorching the earth from where they stood regarding known (and surppresed) air quality issues in Manhattan after 9/11 was his response!  Taking zero prisoners. 

Again - can I marry this guy?  He is my fucking hero. 

I had to lay off social media (I know, I keep trying) only because the feed brings so many plane / twin tower shots and aftermath. I can't really deal with it all. 

I shan't turn on the tv to watch any might be televised ceremonies, but I am glad Manmdani isn't backing down and going. I have no skin in this game, but I am all for it. 

....though honestly, I'd give him $1,000,000 that in the middle of any speech he gives to yell "Allahu Akbar" just to fuck with everybody.    .....and then go, "jk". 

Song by: Linda Ronstadt

Inside My Head

I admittedly am not timely sometimes about reading my comments. 

I'm the actor who says he doesn't watch his own movies. I'm the musician who claims to never to go back and listen to their music. I don't often go back and read my own posts after I draft them. I probably should - I'm sure I'd catch a ton of typos. 

But I did read the comments yesterday about my mental health. 

I want to assure you, it's at the top of my mind. Probably 710's too.

Besides seeing my ortho-oncologist the other day, I also "saw" my shrink. 

That is in quotes because it was just an audio call. Due to my lack of mobility, driving a half hour to see him seemed impractical and he agreed to a video session, but he couldn't get his end of zoom to work, so we just talked. 

Correction: I just talked. 

Correction: Babbled. 

g-d love him, but he starts each session with "what's going on......?".  He opened the barn door, so this is kind of on him. 

Though I messaged him while still in the hospital, it was just a head's up that I would probably bottom out about not being able to run. That was the last he heard of me. He didn't know until two days ago about the panic attacks, the conversations I was having with no ones,  my inability to focus or anything. Trust be told, he didn't even quite know about why I was hospitalized. 

He didn't know about my inpatient psych consult. 

So it was a Blobby free-for-all. 

I acknowledged this, the babbling. The stream of consciousness. It was more about my current feeling of inadequacies than my inability to run. While I am contributing a bit to the household, it's not a lot. I found ways to make my grabber be able to feed the dog, so.....one less thing on 710's list. I can shower on my own, freeing him up a little.  If he brings me all the implements and ingredients, I can at least prep dinner. 

Some normal behaaviour is returning, so he (and I) thought this would help with things. He told me what almost every single person in the hospital told me:  breathe. 

During so many tests, procedures and moving me, I literally held my breath thinking it would help. They'd literally notice I wasn't breathing and have to talk me through it. He was telling me to do the same - literally and metaphorically. 

I thought the panic attacks had stopped as it had been a week or more after getting home. But I had three in quick succession a few days prior to the call. None since. 

While I have joked about this making me feel and look older, from my ramblings the other day, I think it unlocked some issues on aging with which I've just kind of buried. The joke is, it might not be a joke.  ....and no one is laughing. Least of all me. 

Don't get me wrong, I'll still joke about it, just know it's probably deep seeded fear about my mortality, or something like that. 

To be good, we are moving sessions closer together for the time being, which is fine. I think things will be better once I can do some work or get off the fucking sofa. 

As I told my doc, I still think the shoe about not running and possibly the inability to run will drop at some point. I think there are too many balls in the air with recovery to be at that place just yet, but I know it will happen. 

Hopefully we will both be ready for that thud.

Song by: Radiohead

So Hip it Hurts

"There he is - the man, the myth, the legend who walked down Lake Rd on a broken leg......"

....said my doctor as he came into my exam room yesterday. 

I corrected him. "For alliteration sake, I believe you mean, "the man, the myth, the moron'".

He didn't correct me. Nor should he have. 

I had my three week post-op visit with my surgeon. It went ok. Nothing completely out of the ordinary. I'm not exemplary in my recovery, nor am I a cautionary tale - except for maybe how to run. Or how not to. 

My dressing came off permanently. Yay. One less thing to worry about or to get in the way of showering at the very least. Disposable stitches will disappear on their own over time. 

He likes where I am in range of motion at this point and time, though I told him how sore I am with my latest physical therapy exercises. So he had me do some, but man they hurt. 

He went on to tell how shocked the muscles are from the fall. The impact went through the muscles, the cartilage, fascia and then bone and back out the other side of those layers. He said it will take some time to "wake up" the muscles. 

I had started to go over my surgical notes, and while I'm not squeamish, I opted to pause reading when they said something about using a "band saw".  I'm sure at some point I'll go back and read it all. Right now, there is too much PTSD for me. 

That OR must have been like an auto body shop - me up on the lift with drills, saws and whatnot working away on me. And a robot. I know some of the surgery was done robotically. 

Not that it crossed my mind or worried me, but after taking out the nine screws they did do pathology on them. It never occurred to me why. Since they had them, they looked for any sign of cancer that might have returned. It has not. All clear. 

We didn't even bother talking the future that wasn't my next visit. Three weeks before I can drive. Three weeks before I can give up the walker. Three weeks before I can work. Three weeks before I can start outpatient physical therapy. Then another three months of that - and still limited movement until December. 

Most likely at beginning of next month I will move to a cane, but only for a short while. The cane doesn't make me look nearly as addled as a walker. At least I don't have tennis balls on the walker.............yet. 

Today is my last home PT. I'll still do exercises twice per day until outpatient starts. I move better than I did. I ache less than I did. There is still weird transitions on the stairs from walker to crutch and back. 

I do reflect back on how worse this all could have all been. While I'm 97% sure I didn't lose consciousness, it could have been easy to do - along with a concussion and losing some teeth. It's the silver lining, I guess. The idea of oral surgery is much worse to me than a new hip. 

So........progress, I guess. 710 loves how far I've come, but I feel he's just placating me to a degree. He's trying to keep my spirits up - and for that it's appreciated. I'm not saying it's doing the job, but I recognize the effort. 

Honestly, this first three weeks have kind of wizzed by. I'm hoping the next three do as well. 

Song by: ABC

Shakin'

Technically summer is not over. 

But to many, Labour Day equates to summer coming to an end. These are not glass half full people.

My summer ended a few weeks back, so what the fudge do I know.

710 is good about getting me out and about. Weekends we get in the car - he is driving, so no worries - grab the dog and go somewhere. 

At first it was just for a drive. But then we started getting out of the car. He'd walk the dog while I walk / rolled to a bench to sit and wait for them. I'd get some "walking" time in, get some vitamin D - which MyChart says I'm below normal - and watch the world go buy until their return. 

Labour Day weekend here has been about perfect. Mid-70s. Few clouds. Little humidity. Good time to be out.

Yesterday we were out close to my parent's house. It is the closest I'd been that way for almost seven years. I had to do the math. Hard to believe my mother has been gone that long already. Je had no desire to drive by the house or anything, but I was in the mood for Dairy Island. 

As you can see, it's a bit more than a hut that operates May - September each year. It's been like that for 60 years. I'm 90% sure the only updates they've done is maybe a GFCI outlets. Though logic dictates at some point in six decades they had to repair the roof at least once. 

While it is 1.5 miles from where I grew up, I can also tell you it's the first time in 30 years (at the very least.....possibly 40) that I've stopped there. As a child I remembered loving their vanilla milkshakes. I'm guessing their biggest seller was the swirled soft served dunked in fast drying chocolate fudge. I was never a fan. 

Shep and 710 had hiked a bit in the woods beforehand, while I did some parking lot walking waiting for them. Afterwards, I said, "let's stop and Dairy Island" and 710 almost never denies my request. I didn't need a milkshake for sure, but I wanted one. 

Part of me was hoping they'd already be closed for the season so I wouldn't induldge, but they weren't, so milkshakes were obtained. 

As a youth - you had your choice of chocolate or vanilla.  Dairy Island was not 31 Flavours. They didn't even have strawberry. There weren't a ton of choices this go round either, but more for sure. I settled on a cookies and creme. 

Obvi - 710 had to go order and get it, while Shep and I waited in the car. 

The thing was well priced for the size. It was pretty big (that's what she said!). Honestly, I finished half of it before I was full. 

Not to worry, the rest went in the freezer for a later time. I'm not a monster. 

But this might have only been my first or second shake of summer. 

So.......maybe it is over after all. 

Song by: Eddie Money

My Music Monday

Maybe I should have a music theme for the month. 

New music is too unreliable due to release dates and me actually stumbling across them. What little time I was spending in my car and listening to XM has been reduced to 0. 

So we are still on iTunes Roulette.  

10th song that pops up is what you get. And this time it's the Watkins Family Hour and their take on Warren Zevon's "Accidentally Like a Martyr".

Zevon wrote great music. Linda Ronstadt has said it is one of her biggest regrets not recording the song when given the chance, but I swear I heard a version by her well before hearing Zevon sing it on his 1978 disc, Excitable Boy. 

Either way, the Watkins Family Hour has a nice take on the tune with its stripped down style - Americana or Bluegrass.......whatever you want to call it. 

Going Out....

Friday evening, 710 made the suggestion I meet the Old Man's Running Group at the normal Saturday bakery after they were done running. 

I had thought about it. They were all so concerned with my fall and everything that followed. They sent flowers to the hospital. They sent a card to the house. They started a text chain asking for updates. I even got a shout-out in their e-newsletter.

I would be the third (!!!) person in this group this year to have a hip replacement. 

The damned things are contagious. 

So Saturday morning I told 710 we should go for a drive and he was happy to deliver me to the bakery. Luckily there is a side entrance with no stairs, so I just wheeled my walker into the place. 

Me - being me - ordered my stuff online during the drive so I wouldn't have to wait in a long line (avec stairs) to pick the stuff up. 

Everyone was surprised and seemingly excited to see me. And I them. 

As the group can be large, people trickle in and out at different times depending on the length they run and how long they want to socialize. So some stories were told over and over, though I tried to limit it. But many in the group are healthcare related: doctors, nurses, speech therapists, etc. They're all about clinical talk. Though I'm sure I could have cut back on the 'cath' talks. 

One person I wanted to see oddly wasn't there, but texted me while I was, saying she hoped I was recovering ok. I took a selfie and sent it back asking where she was. 

710 came back to get me and came in. He had never really met anyone in the group, but they know he existed and vice versa. I really wanted him to meet Christine, the RN with whom he was texting while I was in the ED. 

Lots of talk on my failed Berlin appearance this year with some optimism on getting there in 2027. 

To be honest, I'm hoping I don't get into Tokyo. 

The day before the accident, the Tokyo marathon opened its lottery. I submitted my name. Just my luck I get picked. The race is the first week of March. I'd never have time to train for it, should I be allowed to run at all again. Not to worry - many people have said they'd take my bib should I get in, but most majors (any?) don't let you transfer those anymore. 

But it was nice to get out of the house and see my peeps. It seemed like little effort just sitting there chatting (I didn't even eat anything), but when I got home a few hours later, I crashed big time with a big nap. 

I'm still recovering. I guess this is gonna take a while. 

Song by: Nickel Creek

Shadow

This lack of getting around is gonna hamper pet Saturday for a bit, I fear. 

Shep can't stay at home with me, because I can't truly take care of him, so he goes to daycare. No days out for us. No walks. No nothing. 

No daycare pick-ups, so no daycare dogs either. Like everything else with this accident, I have to learn to adjust. 

My shadow.  Kind of. 

Shep is always around, but sort of keeps his distance. He doesn't bolt at the walker, but doesn't approach me as he was common. I know it is a lot going on. 

Archived Georgia. 

This has to be from at least three weeks ago. 

Shep will come and join me on the bed, but a lot of the time 710 has to be there as well. 

I'll take it anyway I can. 

Virginia and Henry. These three are pack animals. Love it. 

Song by: Brian Eno

Clouds

It's weird what captures social media attention. 

Wednesday, as we were having dinner, I couldn't help but notice a partial view of a cloud to the east of us. Even with the limited view - stupid houses blocking it - the thing seemed enormous. And bright. 

Shortly thereafter, my nephew-in-law (is that a thing?) texted the title image. 

He and my niece live about 2-3 miles from us, so they saw the same thing - albeit I'm sure the cloud changed a bit, but you get the idea. 

The thing was formidable and kind of an awesome sight. 

I didn't think it was a storm cloud. Just a big summertime one, but later weather outlets defined it as a cumulonimbus cloud - or one that are capable of producing lightning and other dangerous severe weather, such as tornadoes, hazardous winds, and large hailstones. 

As far as I know, neither of us saw any of that. 12 hours later we'd get a pre-dawn t-storm which was cool, but nothing major. 

Still, what little I looked at social media yesterday, there were tons of people who saw the same thing. 

Quite impressive. 

There wasn't to be a tie-in to this above post, but as I was drafting, there were multiple NWS warnings coming across my phone. 

I'm putting this post to bed before we lose power. And I'm 95.4% sure we WILL lose power. 

And I'll take my chances, but my crippled ass is not getting into the basement. 

Song by: Milky Chance

Normal Person

I guess today is my 'nothing' post ?

It's odd, but with the hospital and recovery I find it increasingly easier to avoid news and death scrolling. 

While PT doesn't take a whole lot of time - as they keep telling me not to overdo it - in theory I should have more time to see bleak items, but I'd rather read a book and not open my laptop after I do my NYT games. 

I didn't even crack open the laptop again until after 20:00 to draft this. It is quite liberating. 

Since being home, 710 and I are in the same house, but that's it. Our TV room has an ok sofa at best, but one that is sub sub par for my "condition". With a bum hip it is just not comfortable or easy to get in and out of. So I have been in the bedroom in the evening, he in the other room. What little tv I was watching before, has gone to zero since we don't have one in the bedroom. 

I'm not mad at that. 

It is a tad odd not being together. Stupid conversations happen over text so we aren't yelling room to room. 

Again in theory - during the day I should be able to binge all thoe shows everyone talks about, but I haven't done it. Not one show. Not one episode. Not one minute. 

Books are fine. More than fine, actually. 

I'm mobile enough that I spend my days downstairs. It has to be one or the other, since I'm left alone most of the day now. ....and downstairs has food. It also keeps me from reclining in bed all day, which can't be good. 

The title image means little to you, but I made lunch all by myself. Simple, for sure, but it isn't that easy to put together a sandwich when both hands are on the walker most of the time. Simple things like getting and moving ingredients, while not exactly a challenge, are exponentially more difficult. And getting the final product to a table is multiple trips - though to be honest, I carried the Goldfish bag in my teeth. 

For early evening, we stay downstairs too and I've been taking my meals back at a table instead of being served in bed. Last evening I even set up 710's morning coffee for him. It sounds stupid, but they are little acts of normalcy. I need that. 

Hell, I even prepped the salmon. Sure, he had to get me the items and put it in the air fryer, because well, that's tough to move that around while operating a walker. 

Anymore, I'm not an adventurous man, so right now normalcy is what I crave. 

Song by: Arcade Fire

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

Yes, I know I just did a Shopping with Blobby segment, but that was for August. We are now into another month. 

In theory, it would have been a piece I held while we were in Europe later this month so I didn't have to actively post during travels, but those plans have been dashed. No Berlin marathon. Won't be strong enough to get around 2-3 countries easily. 

So this gets moved up - or you get a 'nothing' post. Truth be told, I'm tried of writing about my "accident", surgery and recovery. 

Anyways - someone has come up with two of the worst things ever and made them into one:

First off, I don't know how to tell nuts.com that malted milk balls are not nuts. They're not even legumes. 

...and lord knows they're not candy. 

Malted Milk Balls are something I assumed that were concocted in a Union Carbide lab in Bopaul, India. These and popcorn balls were the first things to get tossed from any Halloween loot. Even raisins and pennies were after that. Necco wafers were somewhere in between. 

But wait - now they're coated with pumpkin spice??   

It's like the garbage isn't even enough. It sounds like these need to go in the disposal and then have a gallon of cider vinegar poured on top of them while they get ground up. 

Yes, now you have to call the Roto Rooter man to come clean everything out, but trust me, it's worth the price. 

On what R&D committee did people go around the room and give the ok for this? 

Reese's might have been last last successful you got the {ingredient} in my {other ingredient}. 

Leave well enough alone. 

Asleep

In hospital, understandably every day would start and end with a medical professional making me move my toes, making me push back against them with my feet and then run their fingers on the bottoms of my feet. All while asking if anything was numb or tingled. 

I get it. It was a rough fall. But they were looking for any kind of nerve damage or paralysis. 

All is good on that front. 

But day 4 I started to get some tingling in my right hand. 

The right side of my body took the brunt of my fall. So fucked was I that I didn't notice I cut my hand, elbow and part of where my abs should be.  Still you gotta figure, human nature had me put out my hand somewhat to break the fall. 

In the ED, they xray'd the wrist and nothing was broken - which is kind of a minor miracle in its own way. 

Day 4 though was a reckoning day in a way. One day post op. The pain meds, what little they did, had being moved to non-narcotics and the trauma pain replaced by post-op pain. That trauma pain also covered up all those other injuries I sustained of which I had not yet been aware.  I mean, I knew my hand, because it had been caked in blood and they had to pluck stone out. 

All the other aches came to the surface. All minor. Except for the hand. 

There was a bruise below where you see the cut. No more bruise, but it still hurts. And it is my "launching" hand from when I have to get up to a walker. 

While I told "my team" about the tingling - which really feels like it is in a perpetual state of being asleep - it was always a 'let's wait and see'. 

I get it. There was trauma to the hand. It will take time to heal.......hopefully. 

It does not hurt, per se, but it is annoying. There aren't peak or lull times. It is 24 / 7. I find myself stretching my hand or shaking it trying to "wake it up", all to no avail. Today it will be two weeks since the symptoms appeared - so far no sign of ebbing. 

My first follow-up isn't for another week, so we'll see what the doc says though he is not a hand guy. 

To be honest, my bigger concern is this is just how it's gonna be forever. Like the tinnitus that came into my life 14+ years ago and decided to squat in my head forever. 

I get I'm damanged, but I am really hoping I don't have to live with neuropathy for the rest of my frickin' life. 

Song by: the Smiths

My Music Monday

710 finally got me out in a car the other day. It was such a mood changer. Going from hospital to home was a lifesaver, but this was another level up. 

I can't drive yet, so I was the passenger. Window down. Taking in the air. The blue sky and the clear lake. The direct sun.

I set the scene, because a song came on the radio I had never heard. If Al Gore's Intertubes are to be believed, "Blood Spilled" by Blonde Redhead came out just a few week past. 

Admittedly, I know nothing of the band. Never heard of them so far as I can tell, though it looks like they've been around for two + decades. A trio, it seems consisting of twin brothers and a female vocalist. 

I have played the song a few times since that car ride. And it's ok. But something struck me on that journey. Maybe it was just another one of the senses falling into place. 

"Blood Spilled" is a bit trance inducing. Cocteau Twins-like, but not exactly. Homage, perhaps?  It entranced me for that car ride. 

The song might never be able to recapture that moment for me, but it just associates with a good memory in a week full of crappy ones. 

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

These last few weeks have left me feeling old. 

In an instant - literally - I went from being independent to semi-independent at best. Very reliant on others for weeks. 

My counters, bathrooms, hallways and bedrooms looks like a pharmacy of elder supplies. I believe I mentioned this days ago. 

From my hospital bed, I was ordering things for overnight delivery so they'd be rarin' to go by the time I was discharged. One of these things was called a Hip Kit. 

Not as in groovy. 

As in - you have a new hip or broke your old one. Or both. 

From anywhere between $30-50 you can get a kit that includes basically a rag on a stick to warsh (not a typo) your back. Grabbers - the kind T-Rex's would use to get things off high shelves, or off the floor. Shoe horns. Leg lifters. Sock puter oner things. 

They taught me to use these things in occupational therapy before I left. The leg lifter was great. I needed it for the first 10 days. I use it less and less now, as I'm gaining some mobility.  And I use the shower pad on a stick. 

Other than that, right now, I have 710 to help with the other stuff. 

But this upcoming week, he'll have to make appearances at the office, which will leave me at home alone for half days. Which means, I'll probably be using this stuff more and more. 

I'm not in a position to be in a shower with no one else around, so that'll have to wait. For the most part I can be dressed before 710 leaves for work. 

I'm not 100% sure how much I'll need (or use) this stuff. It won't go bad or anything, and well, I'm not getting any younger, so the chances that one of us (or both) needs it in the future are high. 

Have You Seen Me Lately?

Still on the mend. 

Thank g-d for celebrity deaths to get me off my health posts - which in an odd way is fine for me. There is only so much trauma and healing I can bothered yakking about. 

But it's animal day. This week, many pics taken by me.........just from the same location. 

Shep has been a good but passive caregiver. He doesn't really do much but lie below me at night and lay at my side in bed during the day. Still it's enough to calm me internally, so there are some medicinal qualities to his presence. 

We have surprise guests too. So........yay. 

He usually jumps up, on my good side, first thing in the morning when I awake. 

Sometimes he jumps down, sometimes he painfully crawls over me to the other side. 

I can't take my afternoon nap without him. 

I'm very glad for this. 

My nephew sent me a new pic of Henry. Great image. 

710 picked up Shep while I was at the hospital and sent me this. 

Morning nap. For him. 

Me? Probably playing NYT games. Or trying to relax. 

My sister in law sent a pic - via 710 - of Simon !!!!!

I miss this guy in a way. We never truly bonded, but man, I saved his life. Throw me a bone!

Song by: Counting Crows

Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!   

The Menzinger's have a new disk out as of a few weeks ago. I knew it was coming, but then Blobby fell down and gone boom.  ....and I didn't have an opportunity to listen to Everything I Ever Saw. 

I don't know what happens when millennial punk ages. Against what are they raging? Or are they? Or is it just a look back at what was - ......everything they ever saw? 

The disk does seem like a look back, but with glimpses of now and maybe the future and perseverance. "You can always reinvent yourself / you can can be who ever you are" they sing on the first song release, "Nobody's Hero, which touches on looking back and moving forward. 

"Close Encounters" starts the album on an extremely strong note.  Rock x 10. "We may never stand a chance / but we still gotta try / No one’s coming to save us from ourselves tonight" starts that perseverance theme.  The song drives, the album less so. Again - aging punk rockers. 

"Other People's Money", while fine, should have been the punk song here, railing against Musk and MAGA, but it's got a fucking literal "la dee dah" in the chorus of a mid-tempo rhythm. 

"Nobody's Hero" is still one of my top songs of the year. It'll be difficult to knock it from the #1 or 2 position. 

Less intensity for Menzingers is still more than most bands at their peak. Things are more melodic than usual, but that's not a bad thing. It's slightly more accessible. 

Everything I Ever Saw is a strong disk. Like a lot of my choices, it's not for all. The Menzingers are a rock quartet, talented and tight but effusive. It comes out in bursts of energy that one might find themselves singing at the top of their lungs at one of their concerts or in your own car.  Guilty. 

Don't Dream It, Be It

My second celebrity death post in a row. I don't think I've done that since George Michael / Carrie Fisher back so long ago. 

Tim Curry's death was unexpectedly expected. He did a an NYT Magazine article a few months back. Which indicated he wasn't well, though if they specifically said from what, I don't remember. But well enough to do a feature interview. 

I didn't know Curry's oeuvre well.  Sure, Rocky Horror Picture Show and Clue. Or a few episodes of Roseanne. That's about it for me. 

His imdb will tell you he probably made a more than decent living with voice acting in cartoons or video games. The list goes on forever. 

Almost three years ago I wrote about Rocky Horror for a My Music Monday piece. 

Curry, whether good or bad for his career, playing Frank N. Furter was a career defining moment. I imagine some casting directors couldn't see past his Furter character. He played it so fucking well. Everything was over the top yet at the same time it wasn't. It was a balancing act I'm guessing only he could truly pull off. 

His character was outrageous and sympathetic at the same time. You rooted for him. 

In that post I give a brief notice on my affection for Sweet Transvestite. 

His performance of this song is just perfect. The vocal, sure. But every single movement. Every inflection. Every camera angle. Every raised eyebrow. ....and ever decaping, (it's a word!.......now.)

THIS is the performance that drew me into the movie. For me, there was no way they could do better than this. They still can't. 

Song by: the cast of the Rocky Horror Picture Show

When We're Gone, Long Gone

Ugh. 

I gotta write about Dolly Parton. 

The 'ugh' isn't because I don't like Dolly, it is the circumstances under which one must write. Death. 

I had zero against Dolly. That said, other than the two Trio albums, I owned nothing by Dolly. 

If she's done more than two movies, I don't know about it.  Yeah 9 to 5 was fun(ny).  Straight Talk I saw on a plane - avec audio - and I was exceptionally high at the time. And it co-starred James Woods. So........she gets 0 point for that one. 

But the world - or at least the US - is a worse place without her. 

I dare you to find a an interview where she wasn't so upbeat you could barely stand it sometimes. She seemingly never begrudged the things that brought her PR or get bugged by a question that so much other talent just has ooze out of their bodies. 

She seemed kind to and about everyone ever when disagreeing with them. I'm not sure that is a style that can be learned, just cultivated to a sharper degree. And she had it down. 

Unlike her - the "it sucks to be famous crowd" also didn't donate money to find a workable Covid vaccine. My first three Moderna vaccines were in part due to her. 

Her literacy / Imagination Library book programs are phenomenal. If you don't know about them - read about them. 

Ohio has a license plate template for that. I actually took a pic of a real on in a crowded parking lot months ago and can't find it. What were the chances the car owner would be walking up at the same time? But he was cool with it - and said his daughter participated in the program. 

Let's face it: there is no Patsy Cline Park or Loretta Lynn Land.  Dolly was one of a kind. Period.

With no immediate family (well, brothers and sisters there are, I'm sure), I hope her estate planning will continue that community growth of literacy and good works. 

She was an anomaly in certain ways.  Growing up poor and uneducated in Tennessee. Everything her starting fan base was. She championed literacy. A Covid vaccine. LGBTQ ally. Everything that initial fan base is against. 

Yes, I'm generalizing, but not by much. 

For me, Dolly will be missed more as a human being than an artist. Her legacy will last due to her causes and commitment. 

Song by: Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt & Emmylou Harris

Opiated

While I am down and out, I can't stop thinking about my privilege. 

The other day on our weekly call, I said we should start a pool on what my total hospital bill will be. My submission was $210,000. 

Before this "event", I'm pretty sure we had not yet paid off our annual deductible. I think we can safely say we have covered that as of now. So much of this theoretical number will be covered. 

The debt saddled with someone who didn't have that coverage is just mind numbing. Even the deductible alone could be bank-breaking. 

Still - privilege is more than just about money, though arguably related. 

710 happened to have this week scheduled off. Unlike some work areas, his time off does not roll over year to year. So it is of a use-it or lose-it situation. And he works at a level where if needed, he could have either taken the time off with little notice or he could have found a way to work from home. Or I guess apply for FMLA to be a primary caregiver. 

But what if he couldn't? What if there wasn't a 710 and no other caregiver?

I'm guessing Discharge Planning would have me shipped off to a rehab facility. The severity of my injury had me on the cusp of not being able to go home as it was. But there it is: another financial obligation. 

I'll be getting in-home physical therapy for at least the next three weeks and then lord knows how long PT for months after. Mo money; mo problems. 

That doesn't even cover all the durable medical equipment one must have: walkers, grabbers, elevated toilet seats, shower chairs. I already had the crutches and cane. It all seems excessive until you find you can't move certain ways, or bend for the next three months. At least not without reinjuring myself - and the hospital is the second to last place I want to be. 

We should also discuss meds. 

Yeah - those are all mine. The front row, depending on the bottle, is either once or more per day. The back row are PRN meds (or, as needed). I think I've touched the back row twice since I've been home, as at least one of them is opioid related. 

I honestly try not to touch those, as I know the devastating effects they can have - and that is just the constipation, let alone the life ending scenario they bring. 

My first few days were nothing but mophine and fentanyl. Direct IV access. Several times per day each for several days. It takes five days to get addicted to opioids. They are a fucking nightmare. 

...and the sad part? They never brought me any pain relief. I found that to be true back in 1992 and 1993 with my ruptured appendix and original leg surgery respectively, but back then I chalked it up to other pharma phun I was having and assumed I had a tolerance. 33 years later proved me wrong on that. 

The only positive thing I'll have to say about my meds: cheap. Everything is generic. 710 goes, "I think the most expensive bottle was $4."  But you do get what you pay for. Little is capsule coated or gel packed. They are big, clunky, dry as a bone pills that are extremely difficult to swallow. But for a mere fraction of a penny, they could all be sized or coated for easier ingestion. Pharmacies wonder why only 35% of prescriptions ever get filled and 30% that do never get taken. 

Anyways. These are ramblings from a semi bedridden man who has too much time on his hands. 

I would assume my non-US readership is stymied by our healthcare system. Trust me - it's not just you. 

Song by: the Tragically Hip

My Music Monday

It's iTunes roulette this week. 

I haven't heard a song in days and days and days. Any kind of media has just been not in my existence - by choice - since last Saturday. Minimal screen time. Laptop only opened to write this blog. Zero tv. Zero books. Zero music. 

So you get the 10th song deal. 

And you get an incredibly awesome song at that. "For Emily, Whenever I Might Find Her" by Simon and Garfunkel.  The live version. Which oddly is the only one I knew. I had to look it up but there is a studio version that was released in 1966.  The live version is 1969. 

Art Garfunklel was just a massive vocal talent - albeit a specific one - and while in the Rock n Roll Hall O'Fame, is just an asterisk too much to Paul Simon. 

No one is denying Simon's songwriting abilities, but the two stand out cuts from the band - this and "Bridge Over Troubled Water" - has Simon saying he should have been sining lead. He's kind of a dick. Neither of those songs would have been better and just give Art credit due. 

An expertly written and performed song - one that shows there could never be studio trickery in their work.