Neurosurgery Counter Service

So, as we age, so does our back, maybe faster than our brains. Pain, pain, pain from every step. Stairs always a challenge. Getting up. Sitting down. X-rays. Rolling over in bed. Putting on pants. Wiping my ass.

CAT Scans. MRIs (a real joy for those of us with claustrophobia). How about an epidural? And there is always a surgical option. Want some pills. No, I drink for pain relief.


Every step of the way, Sharon sat next to me. It was as if she was the patient, asking questions, feeling the pain, sharing my emotions. Even though she has her own problems, nothing would make her happier than knowing I wasn’t as disabled as I am.

Dr. Brett Schlifka informed her, as if she was the patient. And, she did her own independent research. Great teammate.Great doctor. Smart. Caring. Talented. Likes his patients.

I learned what I could learn, rejecting the shots and surgery, accepting the suggestion to do physical therapy. Rejecting the opioids; living with the pain. So far, so good. Call me back, Brett said the other day. “Call when you need me.”

A back is a back. I have spinal stenosis. Have to be careful. Don’t fall. Maintain my posture. Respect my limitations. The only good thing about living in FL is the pool. And my life, not worth living without Sharon.

Argus

So, last night Argus visited me during sleep. He never closes his eyes, looking into the future and remembering the past. Both for me seem pretty scary.

I have never gained control over the remnants of my past trauma or regained any sense I had control over the smashup that stole my career and adulthood. Even my understanding wife has had a tough time living with it. So it goes.

The future remains dim, too, now that I face a multitude of physical problems: blood, skin and spine being the most pressing. But I forage on, trying as I might try to live in the present, always valueing what I have, rather than what I lost which will never again be within my reach. No more dreams or long range plans.

Florida is the kind of place where many leave behind their real lives.

 

We remain positive that the booster will provide me with some protection from Covid 19 or whatever it’s called. Cannot understand why someone wouldn’t be vaccinated or wear a mask. I know how close my immunochallenged system could be to death if I get sick. So, shoot up and wear a mask.

Woman ahead of us in line at Publix was also immunocompromised. She had tears in her eyes. One person showed up for his first dose, pulled in by his mother. He wasn’t wearing a mask. Maskless woman called me a Douche, as she coughed while picking up a prescription. She said she would never put anything in her arm and would not wear a mask, because she wanted to breathe. Guy waiting for a booster sitting next to us said that unvaccinated should die in the parking lot.

My advice – vaccine, mask, and social distance.

Duckman Tilts Left

I don’t gamble and I cannot play sports. I have problems with the political process, having been killed by the system, a condition that bars me from commenting and having my thoughts considered. I have basic health care and maybe just enough money to make it. My cancer doctor says my immune system is working, but I am not prepared to test it. Not going to a gym or a night club. But I do miss museums, watching people who know more or less than I do about art, look at framed images, sculptures and whatever they call the rest. So I wonder.

Duckman Fights CLL and Corona

I fight the battle of Corona and CLL from all fronts. Keeping my mind active as a photog, my body strong by walking and biking and my system enriched. Who do the voodoo that you do so well. We all be human, mortal people, whose life spans happen when they happen. Keep the pills coming and the vodka chilled.

Having A Future

So, time flies when you are having a good time, eh. Not that cooped up, but enough to stop the analysis of the past. It will never change and whatever story I have to tell will remain in my head. I don’t have to wonder if I will survive this, I may. But little difference will come of it. My CLL limits my life expectancy anyway. Much I didn’t do because of my limitations. On to filling the rest of the time with who knows what, except that fame and fortune have escaped me. Keep in mind, it’s a cromulent world.

Mano Mano Manischewitz

“At 11 percent ABV, it’s the kind of sticky sweet wine that gets glugged like juice at the dinner table, resulting in a collective morning-after headache for everyone involved. All the same, Manischewitz is ingrained in Jewish culture.” People still drink it.

At Publix, the well stocked bar didn’t seem to be attracting many customers.  Surprising, since FL is the home to many aged Jews who can still remember their first Passover. But then again, we are in the midst of a plague and no one wants a hangover to compete with symptoms of the Corona virus.