Friday, January 31, 2014

Don't Go Down That Path

Inspirational song: Crosstown Traffic (Jimi Hendrix)

While I knew it was inevitable that I would get some kind of sickness during the course of the blog, and during my time living alone, I never put much thought into what I would do if I got something more lengthy than a migraine or serious than the sniffles. I'm not sure what I would do if I ended up in the hospital, like I did exactly one year ago last weekend. So far I have had perfect attendance, not missing a single day's blog post. But all day today, I have had the exact same pain that I had a year ago, my lower left abdomen feeling like it was going to explode. This is the only pain that has made me question my resolve never to take anything stronger than a Tylenol ever again. By the time the ambulance came last year, I had pegged out the pain scale, hitting ten after ten after ten, for almost two full days, and I allowed it when they offered me morphine in the ER. I'm in a bit of denial that it could be the same problem revisiting me. I really don't want it to be, not only because of how much it sucks, but because this year, I am all by myself. I have dear friends who care about me, yes, but none of them are going to move in with me and let my dogs in and out, if I find myself laid out on the couch for another months-long episode of this.

I got a call from an old friend out of the blue the other day. He told me that he was about to go in for surgery with the exact same condition. We hadn't talked in months, and have been trying to cross paths for years and kept failing. I told him that he called the right person if he wanted sympathy and understanding ahead of his procedure. So far I have dodged the need for surgery, although waiting to be sure I was clear did drag out forever, while we tried the few antibiotics I am not allergic to, eventually finding the right combo. My old friend seems to have followed a different, more challenging route to where he finds himself now. He can barely eat, and has lost so much weight that he is now thinner than the beanpole he was when we met when he was about 19. He has been an excellent friend for a very long time. I hope he knows well how much my man and I love him and wish him a very successful surgery and speedy recovery. I've been trying to convince myself all day that the return of my symptoms are just sympathy pains, commiserating with our old friend. We shall see.

The good weather arrived again today, and with it, my roofing crew got to work bright and early. The entire old roof has been completely removed, and I assume at least one decking board was replaced, as there was a big sheet of OSB in my back yard this afternoon. I tried to stay out of everyone's hair while they worked. I did observe an awful lot of asphalt debris falling everywhere, into my trees and bushes. This winter is going to end up being hell on my poor Park. I am going to have a very busy spring, pruning everything back dramatically, both to reshape everything that was damaged, and to avoid the overgrown appearance everything had by the time the rains slowed last summer. I think I like this roofing crew more than the last set of subcontractors. They seem a lot more focused. I felt horrible when I had to interrupt their one lunch break to clear my driveway so I could go visit my brilliant physical therapist. I liked their giant bar magnet on wheels that they used to pick up nails before I drove over them. I wish I had run something like that over the deck twenty minutes earlier when I put a roofing nail an inch deep into my running shoes. Good thing the therapist insisted I wear the better shoes to his clinic. Kept me from a surprise ER visit and a tetanus shot. The conversation topic of the day at the clinic was the horrible, horrible traffic all over town. The big bridge downtown finally reopened, only to be closed again when hunks of ice the size of traffic cones fell and speared through cars trying to cross it. The effects of the bridge closures rippled through town, even choking up my artery home from therapy. I think I would have preferred to stay home, listening to my house suffer thousands of hammer blows than drive through frustrated, angry, detoured drivers.

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