Tag: surgery

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Sunny has unfolded from the origami clouds. Rain pestered us with brief spitting contests. Overnight had autumn drag more of its influence in. Chillier air presides. Rain is expected. Currently 66 F with sunshine and clouds mixing it up, 72 F is our projected high.

I spoke to Dad this morning. Loopy with drugs, he wasn’t himself. I told him that I’d passed on his situation to Mom. Mom’s response was, “Tell that rat bastard that I hope he gets well soon.” Dad laughed over that. ‘Rat bastard’ is Mom’s affectionate handle for Dad.

Bad news came in about Andy, another hospitalized friend. If you thinkback, Andy was taken to the hospital a week ago after beer with friends. After falling in the street earlier that day, he was complaining of pain. Turned out he’d fractured his hip. So, he went through surgery, was removed to a rehab place, etc. All was going well. Last night, he got out bed and fell again, this time breaking his hip. It was back to surgery and the hospital. We understand that he’s under sedation at this point.

I met with my surgeon yesterday. While he’s a ‘general surgeon’, he’s done thousands of gallbladder surgeries and specializes in them. We went over expectations and my situation and set a date for November 5. It would have been sooner but I postponed it to travel east for Mom’s 90th BD do. I liked the surgeon. He was patient and affable and spent a lot of time talking with me, relating his own gallbladder removal a few years ago. He’s also a big fella. Two or three of me could’ve stood in his pants. I think I came up to his belly button. With all that, he also has an identical twin brother, who’s a surgeon in Montana. His younger brother is a surgeon who just moved into the area to practice. I wondered if he came from a family of surgeons. No, Dad was a dentist and Mom was an elementary school teacher.

I didn’t spend any time with the news this morning, busying myself with other matters. Today’s music is by Ed Sheeran. “Thinking Out Loud” occupied the morning mental music stream as I reflected on aging. I wasn’t thinking just of my aging, but of everyone. It’s a delicate and reflective song, fit for a delicate, reflective morning that shimmers with fading summer.

Coffee has anointed my tongue again. Hope grace and peace flowers for us today and every day. Cheers

5

The Exercise Routine

A friend went hiking and then needed a few days to recover. Hips and a bum foot gave her issues. She wins for the best insightful comment about exercising: “I guess my approach of one hard day of exercising a month to overcome the lack of activity every other day needs to be reconsidered.” I’m paraphrasing. She put it better.

I found myself in a similar way. After my arm was broken in two bones a few years ago, I was left without exercising it much. That resulted in atrophied arm and shoulder muscles, which really pissed me off. Just as I was working on recovering from that, I had a ruptured tendon. Repaired with surgery, I was off of intense exercise for over six months last year, beginning in September. Guess what happened to my right leg, home of the ruptured tendon? That’s right, atrophied leg muscles. Like, mother of pearl.

Recognizing these things need to be fixed, I began working to improve. Just free weights, running, pushups, the old-fashioned stuff I’m used to doing. I saw improvements. Better muscle tone and definition, higher energy levels, clearer thinking, weight loss. Then I went on vacay. Other than walking and stretching, I didn’t exercise during the ten-day vacay experience.

Well, when I dropped to give twenty a few days ago, my left arm, the one with the atrophied muscles, was not happy. I barely eked out eleven pushups. The offended limb throbbed in irritation afterwards. Same yesterday and today, proving that it wasn’t a one-day fluke. The throb doesn’t last past five minutes, but it’s another annoyance. It doesn’t affect me when I plank, but it does affect my light weightlifting.

I’ll keep working it. I mean, what else is there to do? Well, yes, I will research and adjust my exercises, and find ways to address the throbbing, but I’ll press on.

That’s the bottom line. Giving up just isn’t an option.

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T&P

Daily writing prompt
How do you practice self-care?
View all responses

For my personal self-care, I turn to America’s political leaders. Yes, just like DC’s elected denizens when disasters strike our nation, whenever something goes wrong with my health, I quickly turn to thoughts and prayers for my solutions. It’s wonderfully effective and doesn’t cost me anything! Although, there are sometimes complications. Like, when I broke some verterbrae in my neck. Despite all my thoughts and prayers, I ended up going to the medical clinic. They apparently didn’t have much faith in my thoughts and prayers, either, because they put me in a ‘halo device’ for the summer.

Other than that, oh, and when I had blocked bladder. Although I furiously prayed that my pecker would do its duty soon and gave it almost every minute of thought, I ended up in an emergency room where they fed me some meds and thrust a catheter in me. That relieved the problem, although I’ve remained on Flomax ever since.

Which was good, because I needed to turn my thoughts and prayers elsewhere. Thoughts and prayers were called for a year later when I broke several bones in my left arm. More thoughts and prayers were required for my ultra high blood pressure and then surviving COVID. Fortunately, medical authorities were there to augment my thoughts and prayers both of those times, along with when I needed surgery last year for a ruptured tendon in my ankle. I’d been tending it with plenty of thoughts and prayers but they surprisingly did very little. It does cause me some wonder about how they’re so successful with thoughts and prayers in Washington, D.C.

Now I think I need to lose some weight. I’m begun issuing a lot of thoughts and prayers that I’ll lose about twenty pounds. If that doesn’t work, I’ll probably see my PCP and go on a diet. Right now I’m going to eat some cheese. I pray that I don’t gain weight from it.

Time will tell.

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Mom Updates

First, my oral surgery this morning went super. I’m recovering without issues.

I don’t know what’s going on with Dad in Texas. They’ve gone silent. I’ve requested updates.

Now, to Mom. After being found constipated and in intense pain, Mom spent the night in a hospital. Now, she’s much better, back at home, and out of pain. But, his situation isn’t sustainable.

The family of Mom’s boyfriend agree. One of them has found an apartment for them. But will Frank agree? Will he move? Someone needs to have a deep heart-to-heart with him, making him see the light, and make it happen.

As with so many things in life, easier said than done. What’s even sadder is that we have multiple couples in this area who are on the verge of becoming Frank and Mom. They’ve set themselves up to move but they’re holding off, holding off, holding off. For what, a crises? Well, in a sense, yes. Change is challnging. They’re not ‘motivated’ to move…yet. But too many people aren’t willing to see for themselves how their situation is getting worse. They convince themselves that they’ll be okay and don’t have to move, so long as they get through the latest. But the latest gets worse. It’s not a one-time event; it’s part of a deepening trend, and they won’t see it. They refuse to see it, to their detriment.

And I do understand this. Making the logical, intelligent decision to change what’s going on is one thing. But following through with the emotional component and then the physical component are often something else altogether. And you know that these people, with their life experiences and age ehind them, often do understand this. They’ve seen others go through it; that’s why they did their planning.

It’s in the execution where they fail. And again, that’s where so many of us come up short, isn’t it?

6

Thursda’s Theme Music

Clouds are climbing over the mountains and shouldering the blue sky and sunshine out of the valley. It’s Thursda, June 19, 2025. Today will tap out in the low to mid 70s after breaking down to the low fifties, all Fahrenheit, in the night. Rain might be coming tomorrow, along with lower temperatures.

We’re watching a fire to our west. In the Upper Applegate/Ruch area, it’s already eaten over 350 acres. Firefighters are working it; the cooler temperatures are helping. Some smoke is slipping our way, taxing our air quality.

News about Mom is not readily available. When we last left her story, she’d been taken to the hospital where, at a few minutes after midnight, they weren’t sure they were keeping her or discharging her. She was constipated and in intense pain. They don’t know what’s causing the pain.

Today’s music is by the O’Jays. “Love Train” is part of the Philly sound. Coming out in 1972, many call it early disco but I book it as R&B. Whatever genre you label it, the song was part of a more optimistic period, when we were saying, hey, peace and brotherhood are good things and they are possible. It’s possible for us all to live side by side and not just survive but thrive. Some, though, fell behind while others were thriving. Contemptuous neer’ do wells use the gap to wedge people further apart and pour hate in. Whatever someone hates or doesn’t like, they find someone on ‘the other side’ to hate for it. The Neurons hooked it when a snatch of song was heard which may have been “Love Train”. So here we are.

It’s a short entry. I’m off for oral surgery now. Coffee, food, and any fluids are currently off limits. See you on the rebound. Cheers

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Sunda June 15, 2025 has taken off. It remains chill in Ashlandia, mostly sunny but clouds are clotting. 74 F now, the high will see us ten degrees warmer.

First, a shout out to the anti-King contingency and their nation-wide and world-wide showings. Millions showed for the cause. Meanwhile, PINO TACO and his minions endured a dour, sluggish, pitiful parade. The Army and its members deserve better; little TACO does not. MAGA and its orange chief should understand now that TACO’s attitude and lackadaisical treatment of people and rights is not appreciated. They won’t, of course. TACO lives in a bubble, as do the MAGAts. Trumpettes reinforce the positive and shield him from the negative. His delusional thinking does the rest. TACO and his support nachos will blame the fake news media, AI, etc — anything except the truth — to pretend that it was a fabulous parade, probably the GREATEST AND BIGGEST MOST BEAUTIFUL PARADE EVER!

Anyway…

It’s Father’s Day, a holiday begun when fathers said, “I’m tired of working. I’m taking the day off.” People responded, “How ’bout a tie? You’ll look good with a tie and that’ll make you feel better.” And so a tradition was born.

Called Dad today. He remains hospitalized. Surgery is planned for tomorrow. Although 92, he’s never been through surgery and he’s scared and nervous. I’ve been through a few surgeries and helped reassure him. As we spoke, he began remembering all the injuries I’ve experienced and joked about them.

Later, reflecting on our relationship, I went through how much Dad and I are alike. He’s much different from his father. I had a great relationship with that man, because my grandfather and I both liked building models. Grandpa has been gone fifty years. I still miss him.

Dad conveyed bad news. His younger brother was hospitalized Saturday night, and the brother’s son-in-law died suddenly of a heart attack while on a walk. Meanwhile, Dad’s sister, my aunt, celebrates her 91 birthday today.

Papi surprised me today by showing great delight in playing with a bright pink shoestring. I’d make the string wiggle and Papi would attack, nail it with a paw and then spin and race off. Returning a few seconds later, he’d get down into position for another go. This went on for ten minutes before he dashed away and out of the house.

Thinking about the flopped DC parade, The Neurons pushed forward a past song called “The Soft Parade”. “The Soft Parade” is by the Doors. I enjoyed listening to it but my friends found it strange. Well, yeah, that could be the Doors. My wife also disliked the song, telling me that she didn’t understand why I liked it. It’s another case of the old maxim, different strokes for different folks.

On to coffee, on to other things. On to Sunda. Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

Not a good night of sleep to end March of 2025 for me. Twosda, April 1, 2025, has begun with overnight lows in the bottom of the 30s F. 38 F now. Highs will hit the 40s. Squirmy grey clouds shoulder down onto the mountains and separate into misty tendrils. Rain falls. Blue sky is off limits. A skittish sun reassures us it’s daytime.

Papi disliked the rain. He was in and out a billion and seven times between 6 and 8 AM. Fed up by the stale routine, I lectured him. “You’re the cat who cried in and out too many times. If you go out this time, you’re staying out there.” He was mute in response but went out. Thereafte, he beat to come in every ten minutes. I finally let him in after an hour. He reproached me with a look. Nothing has been learned here.

Dreams then contributed to my sluggish state. I had a dream in three parts. The cat kept disrupting it but I kept returning to it. Now I’m on my cup of coffee, looking to it to prompt more blood flow through me.

“We could get a tushy,” my wife says. “It’s very popular.”

She’s referring to a bidet seat. She’s been off and on about this for six months. First on. She wanted one with warm water. Than off because we don’t have an electric outlet by the toilet. I suggested having one installed. She thought about that for a few weeks and then turned that down.

“Do you want a cold water one then?” I asked. That was the natural follow up.

“Let me think about it.”

So she’s back on it today. “We need to measure the toilet,” I tell her. “To ensure it fits.”

“It fits ninety percent of all toilets,” she says.

I’ve heard that before. “We need to measure and confirm it fits our toilet seat’s shape and size. What’s a skirted toilet?” I will do these things later, I tell myself. I don’t want to disturb my morning routine. It already feels wrecked.

Part of my wrecked sensation came from a foot episode. The one which has recovered from surgery. When I arose to partake of Papi’s ingress/egress routine, the foot was painful and stiff. I’d not had any issues with it. So I responded to self, “WTF?” Thoughts of what I did with the foot the previous day were pursued. Nothing meaningful was found. It feels fine now. I register it in my permanent record as another life mystery.

Tame Impala is performing “Let It Happen” in the morning mental music stream. Maybe it’s associated with the dreams. Could also be from thinking about ordering and installing the bidet seat or from pondering the crumbling United States and the GOTP and MAGA response is to it. Although The Neurons have been with me for a few years, I’m still trying to understand how they work.

“Let It Happen” came out in 2015. I didn’t remember that. Looked it up on the net. Wiki thingy’s summary says, “Let It Happen” is about “finding yourself always in this world of chaos and all this stuff going on around you and always shutting it out because you don’t want to be part of it. But at some point, you realize it takes more energy to shut it out than it does to let it happen and be a part of ‘it’.” That’s according to Kevin Parker. Parker is the Australian who wrote the song and performs it.

I think I’m seeing some glimmering of why The Neurons have it racing around my morning mental music stream.

Coffee is not helping much this morning. My bed is singing me a lullaby. But it’s April 1. No foolin’. We’re washing the bed linens. And I want to get on to things. Writing, um, showering and dressing. I also have a bidet to order.

Hope your day is going better. Cheers

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Frida’s Theme Music

Mood: Decembristism

It was a dark and gloomy night but dawn broke as a bright, sunshiny day. Rain clouds knifed in during the intervening hours between now and then, thwarting the sun’s stalwart efforts to give us light and heat. Today is Frida, December 27, 2024. We’re surfing a 54 degrees F day, which t’aint a bad temperatures. The winds that scoured us last night have retreated. A kittenish breeze teases the trees.

Dreams rocked my night. All of ’em were quite personally oriented. Awakening from them had me thinking long and hard about them and what they meant, if anything. That’s often the issue with dreams: any meanings which your brain could be sharing gets wrapped and warped by confusing elements. Do they mean something, or are they just neurons gaming your consciousness?

Ran into a friend this morning. Well, not literally; we encountered on another. We’d not seen each other since October. I may’ve mentioned in posts here that I had ankle surgery in October and then immobolized by the recovery process. He didn’t know that and wondered where I’d been. I presented him a situation précis, with the main point being, that’s life. Afterward, walking away, The Neurons brought up a Dire Straits fave of theirs, “The Walk of Life”, into the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging). I originally associated the song with sports, especially baseball. Listening more closely, I recognized that it was about someone singing songs, and several references to rock and roll songs are heard throughout. An interview with Knopfler, the singer, songwriter, and guitarist behind the song, later confirmed this. Now I associate the song with anyone trying to make good through strife, keeping on toward a goal. This is life; you do the walk.

Days of 2024 vintage are trickling away. 2025 is coming up like a full moon over the trees. Time to rock on one more time. Here we go with the music. Cheers

1

Woundsday’s Theme Music

Mood: Reinvigorated

It’s Woundsday, December 4, 2024. The stagnant air seemed to have shifted a little, as the chill has abated. Although Ashlandia is claimed to be foggy, my perch’s view was fog free. Sunshine enriched blue skies took the vision field from end to end. Now, 11 AM, my personal weather sys says it’s 46 F outside. Alexa claimed it’ll be 67 F today but I don’t trust it. Other forecasts say 57 F today, which seems reasonable.

It’s Woundsday because I’ve been busy this morning licking my wound. Eww. Gross. Figuratively licking my wounds. The wound is the surgery site to repair my ankle. Much better today, thanks. Now I’m practicing my walk, trying to rid myself of my limp, regain some grace, and speed up my stride.

We’ve been following several news stories. One is that another Trump nominee has withdrawn. I’m not celebrating as I’m sure he’ll find a horrid replacement. My wife then regaled me with a few Buzzfeed anecdotes about people realizing what their support of Trump means to what goes on in their world. Trump nominees are surprising them. Examples include a business women who was planning equipment purchases being taught what the tariffs will do. Then there are parents with a child in Headstart just learning that Trump intends to shut down Headstart and now wonder what will happen to their child. In other words, they’re gettin’ woke by their vote.

Also following a story in Pennsylvania about a woman who fell into a sinkhole while looking for her cat in Tuesday morning’s cold, dark hours. I’m from that area and have family still living in the region, so it’s one of those six degrees of separation things. I hope they find her alive and well but I’m sadly doubtful at this point.

Today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark okay) is “Feelin’ Alright”. I posted this song back in 2016. I wrote then: “I’d only recently learned that Dave Mason wrote this song. I knew that Traffic had performed it, but in my heart, this song always belonged to Joe Cocker. Whichever group or performer does it, the song always lifts me up. I loved it when he sang it in concert.” Still standing with that declaration. It’s my song for Woundsday because I’m going to have beers with my friends tonight. It’s our usual Wednesday setup. I haven’t attended for seven weeks. Haven’t had a beer in that period, too. I did have wine and rum with mulled cider on T-Day, though. Beyond that, I’m walking well and experiencing minimal discomfort and pain.

I woke from a dream this morning and remembered open lines from a Dylan Thomas poem.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The dream had been about reinventing myself and reinventing the world, so I can understand the connection with the poem. It’s one of my top five poems.

Hope you have a superb Wednesday, and the days beyond today are also superb as we count down the last of 2024. Coffee and I have rekindled our relationship once again. We’re good to the last drop. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Smoothsailin

Tuesday, November 26, 2024. Few days until Thanksgiving in America, or as as my wife and I celebrate it, Friendsgiving. We head out to a friend’s farm house a few miles down the road and meet up with others. Everyone brings a dish or two. Good food, good drink, and good times are all enjoyed.

We’re chilling at 39 F under a tumultuous sky. The elements up there are in discord. Looks like it might rain, snow, or get blue sky and sunny on us. Gonna get up to a steamy hot 41 F.

Watched some national weather on TV this morning. I lived in Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, and South Carolina for a while at different times as an adult. My wife and I typically jumped in the car and drove ‘home’ to our parents’ places for the holidays, if I had the time off. We’re talking the 1970s through the late 1980s. Back then, it was basically pack the car up, tank up, and take off. Sometimes we’d hit blizzards, a few times we encountered torrential rains, and once in a while, we encountered construction. We always enjoyed the trips. In the early years, we had an AM car radio and that was it. Losing stations, we’d just turn it off and talk. We still do the same on our road trips through Oregon. Now, though, we’re rich with music and entertainment options. We still often talk. Old habits.

My wife baked brownies for our dessert last night. Filled the house with a wonderful chocolate smell. We both said several times, “The house smells so good.” LOL. Love the smell of baked goods. Bread, pies, cookies, pizzas…

The records show that we let Papi the ginger blade in and out nine times yesterday. That seems light. We suspect he overheard our plan and cut back on his requests to game the numbers. I’ve started calling him my little In ‘n Out burger.

Did something to my surgerically repaired hoof in my sleep. Awoke to the realization that I was loudly groaning. Foot hurt like hell. Could barely walk on it. No idea what took place but it may have been caused by a swimming dream. The sound I made deeply concerned Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), my black and white big cat. (He’s not actually that large but looks big, a deception brought on by a big head, paws, and tail.) I found him intensely studying me with his ears back when I awoke. The pain has mostly abated. All part of the recovery process.

With thoughts about road trips and driving, it’s with little surprise that The Neurons brought travel music into the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). Red Hot Chili Peppers released Californication in 2000. The song, “Road Trippin'” was included. RHCP’s album on CD was part of my rotation during part of that period. We lived in California then and were exploring the state. It’s a big state, and we had many excellent road trips, visiting cities and landmarks, taking visitors around, etc.

Had a good bitter laugh over Trump’s tariff plans. China, Mexico, Canada. That’ll hit home construction, food prices (and restaurants!), automobile manufacturing, and computers, phones, and electronics. Talk about inflation. But Trump and his cronies and supporters believe that the other countries and the manufacturing/production sources will bear the burden. Trump et al say they’re doing this to stop drug trafficking. Yeah.

Here’s the music. Excuse me while I dash off for a brownie. A few remain. They pair well with coffee. And away we go.

Cheers

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