Whistler’s Mother

Star Date 14092016

(reference to Whistler’s Mother which was referenced in the movie Sneakers)

Obscure…I don’t recall the particulars of the reference to Whistler’s Mother, in the movie, just that it was. Why is this remotely relevant to anything? It is not, other than the fact that I lay awake for almost three hours last night…Fitbit just verified that I got only 5 hours and 35 minutes of sleep. Good time Charlie…not to be confused with “a good time charlie.” No, I am nowhere near that congenial. Anyway, the movie popped in to my head, along with Toy Story. No visions of large head wounds. Again, Charlie kept me from finding a comfortable position…not thoughts of or surrounding, so much as physically unable to find a position of comfort.

Charlie awoke with this song up in my gourd. It is by Phil Vassar. Singer, songwriter, great piano player. Yes, for those who are not country fans, he is country…or at least considered to be; however, I wouldn’t classify the sound of this one as too much country.

I just left Bobby’s house: The service was today. Got me thinkin’ about how fragile life is, As I drove away. You know Amy was his only love, In a moment she was gone, long gone: It could have been me or you. Oh, baby, there’s no time to lose.

So I’m gonna bring home a dozen roses, An’ pour us a glass of wine. An’ I’m gonna put on a little music, An’ turn down the lights. An’ I’m gonna wrap my arms around you, An’ rock you all through the night, An’ I’m gonna love you, Like it’s the last day of my life.

I drive off when the sun comes up: I get back when it’s gone down. There’s so much I wanna do with you, But I can’t be around. Whoa, time has been just like a thief, It’s stolen too much from us, So one it’s gone we can’t make it up. So tonight, let’s get back in touch.

I’m gonna bring home a dozen roses, An’ pour us a glass of wine. An’ I’m gonna put on a little music, An’ turn down the lights. An’ I’m gonna wrap my arms around you, An’ rock you all through the night, An’ I’m gonna love you, Like it’s the last day of my life.

Today is mostly a travel day. My company is doing a golf outing with Firestone muckity mucks, and each outside sales rep…hey…that’s me, and 12 others, invited a portion of our customers to attend. The event is tomorrow, but starts early, thus travel today. Sidebar. Jess did not actually say I was getting fatter, as I stated yesterday. It is just something I feel from my inner fatness. Why is this coming up? Because she read the blog from yesterday, this morning. Why is that a point to bring up? Perhaps I lay awake out of an unknown fear that Jess is actually trying to stare Charlie out of my head…hmmmm. Logical. I get a lot of road time, which means a lot of time to think and listen to music. I suspect that today I will have the sunroof open, windows down, and music up. …in an effort to not think. I am immediately taken down a notch. One thing I have never done well in all my years on the road, is sleep well at hotels. As of late, the thought of any time away sucks all things ass. Especially when I am the cause of a great sadness in this house, nonetheless or nonethemore. I am tired of thinking about outcomes. I am tired of thinking. I am tired. The other shite I was thinking last night goes well in to a darker place…no, not just due to room darkening shades. Although, they provide a truly blackened out room, they also provide ample opportunity for me to crack a toe on the wheel at the end of the bed…or the dog…who should be on his bed and not on the floor in front of ours…or even walk directly into the edge of the partially opened door…hmmmm…strange…I left the door open on my late night trip to the lieu. Secretly I now have to wonder if Jess is trying to sabotage Charlie…or worse…me. dun, dun, dun. The darker place is in to ‘what if’ land. Too many to even list, but all reminding me they are there. I actually started feeling angry, last night. Cuz that helps. Not in a why me kind of way. More of a why now kind of way. Angry that it is happening at all. Then…as if this makes any sense, angry for being angry. Why not me. Why not now. Yes…typically both of these ‘whys’ would have an eroteme at the end; however, they are indirect questions and thusly do not warrant the interrogation point. You know what it is? (see what I did there?…twice). I am angry at my body for failing. I feel like I have dealt okay with the advance of years. This year, I have been hit with a trifecta of physical BS. Head/neck, hand, foot. So, I am supposed to walk …keep weight down, blah, blah, blah. My foot inhibits this. My head/neck keep me from getting rest, which leads to eating shite I don’t want to eat and more food in a day than I should eat. Cyclical. BS. The bonus here is that I do not want to take pain pills, nor can I tolerate certain OTC pain meds. As I am thinking about the waking hours of last night, I believe part of my anger is also due to my pre-op test results, all of which are available online for my anytime perusal. So…I perused. Idiot. Stupid as it may sound, it was the chest x-ray that pissed me off. It actually states in the “results” that “degenerative changes are seen in the upper lumbar spine.” I do not read this and feel at all surprised by the findings. I am all too aware, every single day, my spine is failing…yet one more future surgery. For those starting here, quick recap:

1981 – During a major nursing strike, my first surgery. Appendectomy. In the hospital for a week. Rewind to early that day. Sitting at school with a stomach ache. Threw up my lunch. I never throw up. Went to nurse’s office. Nurse is out. Principal is in. As he is a swimmer by trade, turned educator…actually won a bronze metal for some swimming event, way back when…he apparently feels good about his diagnosis of this not being my appendix. I go home. Call my mom in tears. I do not cry. Mom comes home. We go to doctor. Large man probes my ass with his very long and large finger. TMI? Wait…it’s like a prison movie…Second large man with larger fingers repeats actions of first man. Yes Steve J, they were both doctors…or at least had the white lab coats. Fast forward a mere hour later, and I am having emergency surgery.

1987 – On my birthday, have my tonsils out. Still have sore throat all the time, so go back six months later to have my adenoids removed. Search the google for pics. Good times.

1993 – Left knee surgery

1994 – Right wrist surgery to remove a growth. Grew back twice the size in same year and had it removed along with portion of my distal, radial artery. Sidebar. Always fun to watch a nurse try and get a pulse from that wrist.

1995 – Right knee surgery to match left. Only not as easy. Emergency surgery a few days later due to arterial bleed.

1996 – 19 June, Precipitous cause of all future bone related issues. Exacerbated and hurried arthritis throughout. What did? Getting hit head on by a drunk driver. He was driving a 70’s Cadillac and I was in a 96 Corolla.

1997 – 10 hours of major back surgery. Rods, screws, pins, duct tape, staples…fused from mid back to waist. Approximately three days after being released from the hospital, I sneezed and felt a pop…which led to ….

1998 – Removal of all hardware in back…a mere 8 hours of surgery, but all is re-fused.

2003 – Right shoulder surgery and distal clavicle excision. Yep. They cut off the end of your collar bone.

2005 – Left shoulder arthroscopic version of right shoulder…gone awry…six months later they go back in and have to move my biceps tendon to the outside of my shoulder joint because I cannot lift my left arm.

All caught up. I left a couple other minor ones out…hands, regendering…what the? Howdy sailor.

So…my anger is clearly at an event from 20 years ago that although it has nothing to do with Charlie…or does it? Fast forward. As I look at the results of my chest x-ray, I am angry because it is a reminder of every bone surgery I have had thanks to an a-hole crossing a double yellow line on the highway. Fun fact here. Man was drunk. Law at the time…and may still be…allowed for the following: CRASH. Airbag deploys in my car…he clearly didn’t need one…or a seat belt. As I push the airbag out of my face, I see him get out of his car and run. I give chase. He runs in to a liquor store (I do not) and comes out, downing a 40 boy. Cops show up and he claims he was nervous and whatever else…thus the reason for downing the beer. Breathalyzer rendered ineffective. He walks away from accident unscathed, receiving a ticket for failure to yield and driving on suspended license…presumably from other DWI events. Also too…had no insurance. Bonus. But I am not angry, nor bitter. So why am I angry over a chest x-ray? It is a reminder. As if I do not already have the constant physical reminder, I now have picture proof that in the not so distant future, I will get to have additional back…and neck surgeries. …and don’t forget foot. I am angry over the lack of control I had back then and the lack of control I have over what is happening to and with me, now. I am angry that this affects…as in impacts others.

So…music. Calms. Soothes. Hopefully. I need it to, or the drive will be fraught with thought. Can I just add here, that I will take this a step beyond angry to full on defcon pissed off, if I cannot whistle when Charlie is out and gone.

Fast forward. Beautiful day for a drive. Sun is out…not Hades, hot. I love my car. Sunroof and windows open. Music up. Phone call. Sunroof closed. Windows closed. Call over. Sunroof open. Windows open. Phone call. Sunroof closed. Windows closed. Call over. I Sunroof open. Windows open. I think you see where this is headed. It was a four hour drive to La Titz…or Litiz. Same, same. On the phone the literal, entire time. Then opened an email I likely should not have and got even more pissed off. So…foot hurting and Charlie gnawing to get out, I am hitting a treadmill.

Fast forward. Treadmill was a good time. Not. Got cleaned up and headed out with one of my contractors, boss, and a corporate person from Firestone. Dinner fine. Back in room…which, has a funk to it. Also of note, the bathtub did not drain. Won’t housekeeping be surprised tomorrow when they come clean. Weeeeeeee. And done. Ready to be in my home. My bed. Started angry and ending angry. F you, Charlie. You certainly aren’t helping matters.