#AMWRITING #BLOGGING – THANKSGIVING WITH EXTRA TURKEY

NOTE: This was intended to be posted on this blog on Thanksgiving Day, but because Google got really stupid and wouldn't recognize my 2-step Authenticator, I ended up posting this on my tumblr blog instead, which made me not one bit thankful or happy. I then spent the next week wrestling with Google to get them to REMOVE said 2-step authenticator, which they finally did, today. Argle. Google is really the worst when it comes to customer service. Anyway, enjoy some warmed-up turkey. At least it's not baloney!

I haven't blogged in quite some time, or barely written anything. Something I've sorely missed. I know that it took me years to develop my own “voice” and style and I should probably be flayed for letting it slide, but I've let a lot of things slide in my life lately, due to a severe case of “I don't give a shit”.

I've gotten to a certain age, where benchmarks and things that define us normally as people, are fewer and fewer in my future, with the exception of death, and that is just a stark, and bleak outlook, one I need to shed myself of, but seem hell-bent on hanging onto, never mind the fact that I am only 62 years old. Rather than looking for new things to do, I've been worrying over this fact like a dog chewing on a huge Brontosaurus bone that has no ending and I've found myself unable to get out of it.

Thus, the only way to do so, is just to DO something. Do ANYTHING. I think I had a bit of a wake up call too, when I broke my hip recently. On October 2, 2018, I was walking to the bus stop to take the bus up to Hillsborough Avenue and then walk the ½ mile to my doctor's office. For those who've been playing along at home, and may not know, I'm legally blind and I had a run-in on my way to the bus stop with one of our local hobos. He just irritates the shit out of me and has been trespassed from every little business in town. I had just chased him off and was agitated, and I really wasn't paying attention. I was nearing the corner of Floribraska Avenue, and Nebraska Avenue, and my cane that I carry, letting people know I'm legally blind, hit the part of the curb that is elevated for wheel-chair users, while I was down in the trench where the actual wheel-chairs ride to cross the street; this effectively creates a mini-ramp for them, but it's an obstacle for all visually-impaired people, because the curbs are not painted in a bright color to bring awareness to the height difference.

It doesn't help that the infrastructure is crumbling and uneven in this part of town, but there are many visually-impaired people here. "Legally blind" generally means there is SOME vision. Had there been bright coloring on the berm, I would have seen it. Tampa needs to fix this shit.

It was at this corner where I fell; I was up on the portion nearest the light pole and my cane had gradually gone down into the ramp. I have no depth perception and couldn't feel the difference, as I was moving quickly, the way I normally do.

Now, being visually-impaired, I'm used to falling and I know how to check myself, but this was different. I tripped so quickly and fell and fell like a tree that had been felled in a forest; hard and swift, and I fell directly onto my left hip, and knee. I had on a sun dress and I heard a crunch. I was able to pull my head to the right and keep my head from hitting the cement, which would have been disastrous; my neck ached for weeks afterward. But I did fall so hard, that my brain seemed to re-boot. Reality just kind of changed for a minute; colors were different, everything was muted and everyone moved so slowly. I just lay there on my side. I knew I was badly hurt.

Two people; a man and a woman, came running from somewhere, I didn't see where and helped me up. I could put no weight on my left leg and I sure had one hell of a strawberry on my left knee. Idiotically, what went through my head first, was a nick-name my dad had for me when I was a kid “Red-Knees Wallace”. I was certainly living up to that name now! The second thing I knew was that I was in extreme PAIN and I have an extremely high pain threshold. I was in the hospital once over a domestic, and I went an entire week with a broken right hand, before it dawned on me that that nagging pain wasn't going away; I had two smashed knuckles. My current pain was much, much worse than that.

The two people asked if I wanted an ambulance; I said “no”; I needed to see my doctor on this particular date. So they helped me hobble to the bus stop, but as I sat there waiting on the bus, I realized that there was no way I could walk the ½ mile from where the bus was going to let me off to the doctor's office, so I called a cab. The cab took me to my doc's office and we got our business done and I took a cab home, where I somehow thought I was going to “gut” this out.

The “gutting” out lasted about six hours. Every move I made; trying to go to the bathroom, trying to cook something, trying to lie down was just excruciating. I even just took my normal night meds and lay there for about ½ an hour and said “screw it; this isn't going to work”, before I got up, hobbled around and packed up a few things and then hobbled out to my porch. I apparently left every light on the house on, including the porch, as Alex told me later – he came over and very thoughtfully turned them all off.

The EMTs took me to TGH and they took x-rays which were inconclusive, so they dumped me in Observation for a while, which is a tomb-like area in the bowels of the hospital. After two days of trying to get comfortable and being miserable, they came back and took some more x-rays and said “Okay, you're now PRN, and we're gonna operate. You got 2 options. One is we put 3 screws in the side of your hip, but at your age, you're gonna have to deal with arthritis and more surgeries later on. Two, is we replace the hip and you have a bit more rehab, but no more surgeries or arthritis, and blah blah blah”. I had quit listening after “no more surgeries or arthritis”; I can rehab like a mo-fo.

They thought I was gonna ride around in this here wheelchair? I decided I'd be better off pushing the chair, since they wouldn't let me have a walker quite yet. Silly hospital; they kept me in a monitored bed, which meant bedpan, and I don't know if you've experienced the new "slenderized" version, which just lets everything run out the sides and onto the bed. It's terrific! Said no one ever.

So, that evening after the surgery, I was up and in a wheel-chair, and then I got up out of the wheel-chair, and pushed it around my room for a bit. I hate wheel-chairs. I was discharged to an inpatient rehab place for another 10 days after my surgery, because I live alone and there was some fear that I might fall again, plus, I don't live in the safest place in the world. While in rehab, I did my job.

I rehabbed like a mo-fo, and was up and walking all over the place and it just continued when I got home. I was hearing all of these horror stories about people who were still in wheel-chairs four years after their surgeries and I'm not about that. I'm agile and mobile and here we are six weeks after my fall; I walked a mile yesterday. I exercise and work this body, so I need to work my mind and heart as well.

I need to share the gifts I cultivated with my blogging friends and participate with the people I love and care about. It's difficult living alone, but it's no excuse to shut myself off from people who care about me and whom I love dearly. For doing so, I'm heartily sorry. Nebraska Avenue craziness and my own craziness is still happening and I need to share it with you all. To everyone, a Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

ROW 80 POST 33 – REASONS TO GIVE THANKS

Why O Why would anyone eat this?

That people right there is a reason to give thanks. I’ve been stalking this here mutant pumpkin since I discovered it before Halloween. And, yup, that bastard is pink. The Wizards of Marketing at my grocery store decided that with October being Breast CancerAwareness month and all, that nothing said “Save the Hooters!” quite like Pink Pumpkins. These suckers originally were going for 6.99 per. They then proceeded to sit there like so many white elephants and provided me with one more obstacle to try and avoid in what is an already perilous journey, what with kids running amok, truant teens drag-racing in the handicapped carts and your run-of-the-mill don’t-give-a-shit assholes.

However, I noticed as time went by, that although the pumpkins did not melt, nor seem to rot and their numbers were not diminishing, the price was. Three weeks ago, they were down to 3.49. Still, they sat. When first introduced at a whopping 6.99, they were displayed front and center in the vegetable section; they were the first thing you saw upon entering. Well, actually, they screamed at you; they were pretty fucking hard to miss. I wasn’t sure if I was in the grocery store or if I had wandered into some House of Horrors by accident. I do tend to wool-gather, when I shouldn’t.

Their demotion moved them farther back by the potatoes, where they lurked in shame for a while. The signage was rather curt. Pink Pumpkins. Breast Awareness. 3.49. Great for pies. Nothing else. The damned things are lumpy looking and warped. Some hybrid from hell; not sure I would eat a pie from that mingling. I mentioned it to one of the produce guys, and he said, “I hear ya, I won’t even it those little “personalized” watermelons.” Yikes. 

According to the inside skinny via the produce guy, they just showed up like so many bad nightmares, unasked for in one of the shipments and it was left to the stores to figure out how to push them on the public, after the "Breast Cancer" tie-in flopped. Methinks the man in the gray flannel polo shirt who thought up this doozy is now working at Sav-A-Lot, selling cheap shit made in China. I would have just adverted them as MUTANT DOOR STOPS FOR ZOMBIE HOUSES AS SEEN IN BETTER GUNS & GARDENS and I bet they would have gone like hot cakes. 

Yesterday, the death knell: the pink pumpkins have been moved and demoted once again. JC and I swapped phones. We did so, so I could get a picture of these prodigies for the blog. Those monsters were no longer at their accustomed site with the potatoes. I saw my friend Casey, who works in the veggie section and does stand-up on the side and asked where they were. We’d already had our fun with these things. Casey said, “They’re back by the salad stuff, ‘cause when you think salad, you automatically think pink pumpkins, too.” Couldn’t have said it any better myself.

1 whole dollar, from 6.99. This is what's left. Poor things; I almost adopted one, but it would probably have killed us in our sleep. I love how one is cut open over there and is wrapped in plastic. A sticker reads, "for display only." No, I want to eat the bastard here; it looks so yummy delish, especially the gray parts. I love my grocery store.

An added bonus: The signage reads: "Pink on the outside. Orange on the inside." Damn tremors.

So, the turkey-lurkey shopping took me every bit of 4 hours. I have to be really careful and go slow. Everyone was great, except for the one bitch who saw me, with whackamole and ran right over the top of me, nearly knocking me into the boxed potatoes. I never saw her coming and my greatest fear is falling; I lost a friend this summer when he fell. Without hesitation, I turned and said, “Hey bitch, I have this cane so I can beat the shit out of people like you.” She saw the blood in my eye and fled.

At one point, I was standing in the spice aisle, looking for salt. So were about 10 other people. It’s like “Night of the Living Dead.” We’re all just standing there. I found the salt; it’s in my cart, but I’m also thinking, “Is there something else I should put on my chickens?” Allspice? Poultry Seasoning? Lowry? Burnt Cork? Floor Sweepings? Everybody’s like statues, staring. Just looking; looking. 2 people down, this woman picks up her phone and dials a number. I hear, “mumble, mumble… cloves” and she hangs up. Is there some spice cabal or conspiracy I’m not privy to? There are 3 guys who simultaneously pick up… something and leave and… They’re not together! More standing goes on. Nothing is said; just more looking, no talking. A new man comes and stands and stares at the spices. That’s it! I got my salt! I might be implicated, so I take off.

Cat food! That’s it! So off I go. This is ridiculous. She will only eat Friskies Shreds, unless it’s JC’s chicken, or milk, or my cottage cheese, or not, or cat treats. So I load up. Cat treats, cat toys, Happy Christmas Cat. Oh wait, that’s next month. Oh well.

That’s pretty much how it went; it was a good today, and I am thankful. I’m so thankful for everything that has brought me here. I’m thankful for all of the richness and wonder and bright things that have come my way. Every day is a blessing in some way, even if it seems bad or wrong in some way, there is always a different way to look at it. I realized something yesterday; these realizations and these wonderful things weren’t given to me to understand and experience until I became honest with myself and others.

It’s not always easy to do, and I’ve caught myself trying to cut corners; shame on me. But I believe as long as I do that, the gifts I’ve received are mine to keep and share with everyone I can. If I sound cryptic, oh well. It is what it is. Well, off to see what other mayhem I can stir up. By the way, this is the store that brought us, "chicken paws." I almost had a stroke in the store when I saw this:

On a serious and very important note, a very huge thanks to the folks at www.parkinsonpanda.org for having me as a guest blogger today. I claim them as my very own personal "Parkie-Pedia" for all things Parkinson's Disease related, although I have not yet and my never receive that formal diagnosis, they have helped me tremendously. They have also done me a tremendous honor by asking me to blog a guest post for today. Please visit them. This is so very worthwhile and there are so many people who need help. Thank you again, guys! My love to you all and Happy Turkey-Lurkey!