“Cry Havoc! Or let slip the dogs of war!” The Bard nailed it with that phrase. At least that is how this part time Literary Wonder feels today. I am back, once more, after a protracted period of time which, admittedly, might not be a thoroughly pleasant matter. I am of a mood to, in fat, go to war. An old friend calls this my “Pity blog” which, given the content of much of this cyber-cerebral presence, most closely describes what goes on when I post. Studious as I might be, I find this location a fitting domicile for what irks me and you, faithful follower, are haplessly hostage to your own need to display affection for this sorry excuse for the next “Great American Author” by clicking the link and reading the superbly well written drivel that appears before you.
I have been meandering in the realm of the Noble Practitioners of the Hippocratic Arts for the last two months and have not found it exigent to put finger to keyboard for a number of reasons. First, I had surgery in early June that has sapped my strength as well as a large portion of my muse. I gave up the absurd idea that any kind of diet would work to relieve me of the rotundity that I suffer from and allowed a very nice man and well respected surgeon to perform a gastric bypass. I had a similar procedure in 1994 which proved to be, in the long run, ineffective and somewhat dangerous. I had a band in my stomach which no longer worked which was ultimately causing me damage and needed to be surgically removed. The only avenue to accomplish this was a newer more effective method of restricting what I eat and how much I absorb. It has worked well in that I have lost 59.8 pounds and my diabetes has gone away.
The last time I went through this, many things changed in my life. I lost 206 lbs. experienced a transformation that I was not ready for. I went crazy. Given my current thought process and scrutinizing my life in search of any lengthy period of rationality, lucidity, stability, or reason I would resist calling this sojourn into “crazy” a temporary situation. I am older (dammit!), hopefully wiser, and better prepared this time for what is about to occur. The last time I thought it exigent to fall in love and proclaim said affection to the object of my affection. This failed to render the expected results as well as offer me any respite from a life of loneliness that I felt, at the time, would kill me. This, among other realities at the time, brought me to the gift that is Recovery and the Twelve Step miracle I practice on a daily basis. The mental fabrications I suffered from in 1994 are no longer issues from which I currently suffer, thanks to that daily miracle in my life. Hence it is in other avenues I must find my path to crazy.
I was of an opinion that this latest operation would correct or ease the many ailments that I currently suffer from in my senior citizenship. The last time it worked that way. I reached a level of almost good health in 1994, why not now? Well, the truth is that the number of infirmities have increased to the point of calling them legion. I had this operation as a precursor to being able to have one or more other orthopedic surgeries that my size prevented. I have become unable to walk for more than fifty feet at a time, and have had to seriously restrict my personal life to only those activities where a good sturdy, comfortable (emphasis on the sturdy) chair is accessible. I have lost my balance and fell several times in the last several months requiring the aid (given my size) of several of my friends coming over and physically picking me up from the floor. I fell last night and had to take today off so that the swelling in my knee would subside enough for me to walk on it. Hence the despicable diatribe you are currently reading. Despicable in that I am disgusted at what my life has become.
I had yet another doctor’s appointment yesterday where I was diagnosed with a heart ailment that both my parents suffered from. Atrial Fibrillation. It is going to mean more visits to the doctor (well, some doctor) and further medication that I will have to take for life. I had rejoiced after this last surgery about being able to get rid of the dreaded day-of-the-week pill dispenser due to the ailments that were no longer present after the surgery. I was down to one medication and my life looked wonderful. I am now back up to a handful of pills both morning and night. I am now at a point that I will soon have to give up a piece of my independence and get a roommate, hopefully someone with health care credentials.
The Scooter Store has decided to find a way to get me a motorized wheelchair. I very much do not want this contraption in my house. I very much don’t get to have what I want.
I loved the life I have lived and have no regrets. There are things that in retrospect would have been handled differently, but that is looking back at it with the eyes and mentality of the present. I did not know in 1981 what I know now, or I would not have instigated the bar fight that is the reason my hip needs replacing. I would not have done many things if I knew what I know now. But then I would not have learned the things I needed to know to get to this place. Pity blog? Screw that! This is what my life is about. It does not sound wonderful, but wonderful is just a word.
I have been many places and have learned many things. This is just another lesson in life. Perhaps it is a seemingly harsh lesson to learn, but who ever said that things will be easy, or wonderful?
Perhaps the most perplexing matter in this is the possibility of a roommate. I savor my privacy. There are not a handful of people who know where I live and I like it that way. My house is my Fortress of Solitude. Not the icy abomination that Hollywood made it, but the huge door in the wall of an ice mountain that you had to open with a giant key that seemed to be invisible to satellite and radar. The way it was in the Superman comics that I read which started my love of words and brought me to the place where I get to delight in, and bitch about my full and sometimes irritating life.
To give up the solitude of my current reality and invite someone in will be hard, and it might take a few tries before I get it right, but life dictates things without regards to my personal likes or dislikes. It is what makes the world a wonderful place. This time it is not just a word it is, as the dictionary affirms, excellent, great, and marvelous.
I will admit that I have a certain unrealizable desire where it comes to a roommate. There is a television program that I watch about a town of geniuses that work for a large corporation that research outrageous and outlandish science fiction type of things. They have a robot deputy sheriff that would be just perfect. He smiles all the time, and can do a million and one things. His name is Deputy Andy. If my truck needed a jump, I could hook him up and get started. He can cook and clean. He speaks every language on earth. He can probably type a thousand words a minute which means the two books I’ve written and do not have electronic copies of could be digitized in about two hours so that I could submit them. (These books not being ready to submit is surely the main impediment to my winning of the Nobel and Pulitzer) He probably has a multitude of abilities that are too numerous to count which would make my life easier, but the thing he has that would be the most use…an off switch.