#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!

#IWSG JULY 2018 CHECK-IN – WHAT AN AIRHEAD

It wasn't until about the middle of June that I realized I'd missed that month's #IWSG check-in. I've been living alone for so long, that it's easy to lose track of days and apparently, months. So, as I was shuffling around trying to figure out what it was that I had missed, it finally came to me in the middle of the month; AHA! I missed June's check in. Blargle. I've been trying to get back into the habit of writing again, but with one thing and another, stuff with finances and all, it just is hard for me to get back in the rhythm. Poor Alex Cavanaugh must wonder if I'm coming or going.

Never mind goals and such; I just need to re-develop that habit of sitting down every day and writing. I'm trying to find part-time work and have focused quite a bit on that, but I still should be able to manage writing with that; provided I ever get hired.

This is really no excuse, but one of just pure empty-headedness and my inability to focus at times. I think I'm too easily distracted by shiny things or things that move. I don't understand why other adults can manage this all fairly well, yet I'm a mess on two legs. Oh well, I have to occupy some space on the number line of humanity. It's not quite 0, but closer to a 3 or 4 at times. I then wonder, if I'm getting too damned old to learn new tricks, but I don't really believe that. I think I'll start leaving post-it notes on the ones I pasted up on the wall last May. Well, maybe I should take those down first! Happy #IWSG-ing!

#IWSG MAY 2018 CHECK-IN – ON WHY I WAS ABSENT IN APRIL, AND NEVER AGAIN

I realize that life is a river and a journey and all of those lovely things that people love to tell us when we're traversing this mortal coil, but these last several years have been very difficult for me, and I think it culminated in a horrendous break-up in late March, early April of this year. I was basically gas-lighted, made promises to and let up a primrose path for almost three years, by someone I put my trust in and I should have known better and passed on what I passed on approximately 20 years ago, but I am a trusting soul and that is hard to change.

Anyway, because I have essential tremor and because the stress takes such an enormous physical toll on people who have that disorder, I was pretty well out of it for a while and spent my time hiding and crying; basically mourning for someone who never existed in the first place. Silly me.

As you can tell by the tenor of this post, I've snapped back, and I actually feel better than I've felt in ages, at least since this person has been in my life and since the death of Jim. Rationality and my old logical sense have returned and I pity the next person, the individual about whom I am writing falls prey to his spell. I passed on the option to be “one of his two best friends”, since he had married his last “one of two best friends” and did nothing but bitch about her. He can now feel free to bitch about me and I'm fine with it. At least I don't have to hear it. There's something wrong with someone who does nothing but complain about EVERYONE in their lives and I suspect we're looking at a rampant case of narcissism. But that's not my concern.

It is starting to get hot here again in Tampa. It had been cool for sooo long and that was nice. I've been able to open up my house. A new cat has adopted me, and she's a riot. There's no petting allowed, but she's terribly happy to come in, eat my vittles and hang out. I, of course, forget she's here until she startles me and I either reach for a lamp (see “The Great House Invasion of 2016), or jump out of my skin. Either way, she'll get used to me. She stares at me like an owl, and I came up with an unusually shitty name for her: “Who”, until my friend, Jeremy pointed out, we could do the “Who's on First?” routine, and my other friend Josh, concocted this mental image of me out in my yard, yelling “Whoooo! Time to come in!” Gah. Just terrible. So, she's "no-name" for now. Anyway, happy IWSG'ing for everyone, and I wish you all well! I'm getting back into my writing routine as well, too and that feels wonderful!