Nobody is Promised Tomorrow. . .
This Blog started in 2001 as a Trip Log to record a summer in Alaska. Since then, it has morphed into my online diary.
Another week begins.
Finished with all things medical until late July.
Time to reclaim my life.
Walked 3.5 miles.
Resurrected my Oh Canada trip planning.
Reviewed my photos from May.
Found this one. Messed with it some.
Photoshop is too easy these days.
Photoshop is about the only thing that is easier for me these days!
Yes, in a few short hours, the long-anticipated Cage Fight will take place on the lawn of “The People’s House”.
How did it come to this?
Note to 47: Gladiators did little to solve Rome’s problems.
Note to Mrs 47: Marie Antoinette didn’t end well.
Note to Spawn of 47: Check your Russian history ca 1917.
Life continues at The Asylum.
It’s time for a Gratitude Break. Mac & Cheese.
Meanwhile, somebody is undoubtedly violating Puzzle Rule 7b, and that simply cannot stand.
Rest easy Mother Nature.
We need you at the top of your game tomorrow night.
Please.
Just thought you might like to see out my window. The White House is right behind the Washington Monument and a little to the left. The buildings and trees are all in Virginia. The tower to the left of the monument is the Old Post Office Building Clock Tower. It is in DC.
Medical Report: MRI results late yesterday.
Good news is I have a normal but elderly brain.
I knew that.
Possible issue: There is a small loop of AICA approaching the nerve root entry zone of the trigeminal nerve on the right.
My issue with the issue is. My problem is on the left.
But, to make everyone happy – especially my doctor – plans are being made to see a “specialist”. The operative word being SEE. I am not signing up for brain surgery.
Done all I can for now.
Whatever happens is what I planned.
OK Carlton. Gratitude.
Thank you, Asylum Management!
And Mother Nature delivered Hot.
Grateful for airconditioning.
Got a 2 mile walk in before breakfast this morning.
Don’t regret giving up the box.
Getting old requires a lot of giving up.
I prefer to call it “graceful degradation”.
Money gets you a comfortable life. But it doesn’t get you a good life.
My good life is a walk, friends far and near who mean the world, a ring that still links me to Carlton.
My dinner companions last night were remembering five years ago. June 9. Covid was raging and we came together to “Say His Name”.
Please let it rain on 47’s cage fight.
Biblical Noah’s Ark torrents of rain.
Please.
Because, for the last 24 hours…
The electric bear has been in the closet. Maybe not hibernating yet.
24 hours. No shocks. No tiny zaps. Peace.
So, I drank water. Ate solid food. Brushed all of my teeth.
And attended to things that required actual brain power.
Took a walk.
I have not declared victory.
But carpe diem.
Looks like a GREAT day for an MRI.
And off we went.
I spent about an hour in the machine.
Actually, I was on a spaceship going to Alpha Centauri.
Haven’t had an MRI in years. This one was much nicer than my last trip to Alpha Centauri.
And. Thanks to technology. By the time I got home, there were a couple of thousand images for my viewing pleasure.
Of course, I looked at them. Retired computer hack. Serious photography geek. Sure, I looked at them.
Actually, I was rather interested in looking around inside my brain.
In Carlton’s last years, he would come home from an imaging session with a CD and insist that I look at it RIGHT NOW. The image viewing software only ran on PCs, and the only PC I had was an underpowered antique. That poor thing struggled to open the images. Then, when we went to see the doctor a few days later, Doctor Bobby would ask me, “Well, what do you think?” I would be worried about this blob, and Dr Bobby would be worried about some other blob. And Carlton died of a heart attack. Not of cancerous blobs on the CT-Scan.
I saw a couple of things that I would ask my neurologist about.
If I had a neurologist.
The Neurologist Quest will not begin until I read the report from the radiologist.
To be continued…
Another day, another “meal” of Ensure Complete.
Completely vile.
But I can get calories into the Old Bat that way.
Maybe I should try a beer.
Except I blame a beer for setting off this flare-up.
Enough of this whining.
At 0930 tomorrow, I am going for a brain MRI.
Sure hope they find that I still have a brain.
Grateful to have supportive friends.
Also grateful for a little moral support from ChatGPT.
This morning, Robot made me this reminder for the day.
And most bears hibernate.
Windows! Sunrise!
Yesterday evening, the orchids got a good watering and a fertilizer snack.
Don’t think they missed me at all.
Today’s adventure was walking next door to the grocery store for food that does not require chewing and little-kid toothpaste.
And today’s accomplishment was brushing ¾ of my teeth with the little-kid toothpaste.
Also reflected on some of my recent adventures.
Tossed off a boat because I had Covid.
Norovirus on a train.
And now, a cruise with a trigeminal neuralgia flare-up.
Not exactly the travel brochure version.
But here I am.
Back in the Old Bat’s Cave.
I got this.
Just for today.
OK Carlton. This is for you.
A Gratitude List.
Made it home from the cruise ship smoothly.
The Old Bat’s Cave was all tidy and welcoming.
The orchids survived. They are happily blooming.
There were no worrying letters in my snail mail box.
I can drink lukewarm water.
This beast will not kill me.
Unless I let it.
Dealing with TN face pain today.
That’s about it for the day. I am fine as long as I don’t move.
I’m 90% packed.
Hoping the pain cycle will break so I can get back to the Old Bat’s Cave with out too much trouble tomorrow.
Damn grateful that I was in my late 70s when this beast attacked.
Time to activate Plan B.
What ever it might be.
The weather has been a little gray and damp.
But it’s been an excellent escape.
Heading north.
To Baltimore and the asylum.