Friday, October 9, 2009

Early October Musings



Early October Musings


In case you might be a bit curious, yes, I still have a cold. Or is it the flu? Or some other virus which will forever be unnamed? I'm sure I don't know. All I'm sure of is that I've been “less than healthy” for about the last four weeks. I guess that's pretty much the usual for me around this time of the year – bit of a cough, occasionally a brief fever, quite stuffy in the nose and the voice that sounds like it's rising from a crypt somewhere. People who know me have been seen to do a double-take when I've opened my mouth to speak recently. And to verify that it was me who was speaking. I haven't been real sick, but, then again, I haven't been real well, either. I'm kind of in the middle. Too well to actually stay home and sick enough that food has lost its taste and it's a pain in the hindquarters just crawling out of bed in the morning. One day down in the dumps, the next, feeling better, and repeated over and over.


It'll eventually go away, of course. But in the meantime it's a wearisome son-of-a-gun.


During this time period my boss at work has been hinting now and again that he was experiencing some health problems of his own. He wasn't sure exactly what the problem was, but was mightily concerned that it might be a major life-changer. I found out late last week that he was scheduled for a medical procedure this week that I had gone through a couple years ago. It's called a cystoscopy and it's an examination of the interior of your bladder with a scope. Of course the instrument is inserted, in a male, through... Well, let's say that the procedure is a subject that most men don't like to talk about, let alone have to experience. Any doctoring that needs to be done “down there” is traumatic to a man. And that trauma varies from a mild annoyance to a full-blown neurotic obsession. I'm afraid my boss veers more toward the obsessive. So I told him to not worry, the procedure is uncomfortable but not tremendously painful, and that it would be an experience that he could tell his grandchildren about in years to come. A piece of cake, actually.


And, to be truthful, what I told him was pretty much factual if, perhaps, a bit leaning more toward “not that big a deal” than “Oh my God that hurts like a...!”


He had the procedure performed on Wednesday and returned to work on Thursday. First he was grateful to tell his staff that they found no malignancy and that was the good news. He also said that I had better come to work wearing a flak jacket as he was going to give me a full-blown chewing out. He stated that my description as to the pain involved didn't even come close to what he'd experienced. After some good-natured ribbing he delivered to me as to the paucity of my descriptions of the procedure and my estimation of the pain involved (which he considered much more than considerable), we chatted about the findings and his prognosis. It was discovered he has a large kidney stone blocking one of his ureters and will have to undertake another procedure where they will bypass the stone and let the kidney drain, then another one where they'll pulverize the stone in situ and let the resulting dust just pass through him. And, of course, they'll do it all through the natural opening they used on Wednesday.


I don't envy him but am relieved that he doesn't have anything more critical in his diagnosis. He'll have some bad days, but he ought to be on his feet at almost 100 percent before too long. Whether that will be an improvement on his normal modus operandi remains to be seen.


The weather in this part of the great state of Ohio is shifting into its autumnal phase and all of us folk that reside here are starting their annual migration from a shorts-and-tee-shirts lifestyle to jeans and sweatshirts. Happens about this time every year and we still have a habit of standing around with our mouths agape at the change. Human memory is such a poor thing when it comes to cyclical events like this. It always seems to take us unawares, as if we childishly thought that summer would stay forever. Hell, we all know better than that. But I guess our knowledge is more intellectual and not visceral. Our guts are always surprised. Always. No matter how old we are or how many cycles we've experienced in this northern latitude.


My wife has already started buying Christmas presents for some of our far-flung relatives. The California crew, the Oklahoma folks, the central Ohio batch. She's quite good at starting early and getting things done in plenty of time for the holidays and for the mailing deadlines to get their gifts and cookies to them. Last year she was laid up with a gimpy leg and had some major difficulties performing these early endeavors aiming at the holiday season, but I expect she'll be quite on top of things this year. Last year was an aberration for her.


I'll probably play my oh-where-oh-where-has-the-time-gone card sometime after Thanksgiving and rush around trying to get the perfect gifts and having to settle for the alternates as I'm too late for the A-tier stuff, as usual. Guess it's hard to break with a tradition as ingrained as that one.


I've got a three-day weekend coming up starting in a couple of hours. Saturday, Sunday then Columbus Day. Columbus Day, along with Veteran's Day, Martin Luther King Day and President's Day, is one of those holidays that generally only fat-cat bankers and us government workers get to enjoy. I always consider these minor holidays as some slight compensation for the low pay, irregular hours and startlingly erratic management of being a low-echelon government worker. I suppose they really are a benefit though, but I find myself at odds as to what to do on those days off when most of the rest of the world is working. It's like I'm playing hooky and am always looking behind my shoulders for the truant officer to grab me and take me back to school or, in this case, work. It's odd how screwed up my psyche is, isn't it? But I really have no idea what I'll do on that “extra” day. Sleep in? Visit a retired friend? Watch a couple movies? Work around the house?


Guess I'll figure it out in a couple of days.


It's been over a month since I've set “pen” to “paper” and written out one of these blogs. I apologize for the lapsed time. I think I've needed some reflection time to recharge the batteries, perhaps. Or maybe the death of our dog in late July affected me more than I'd like to admit. In any event, maybe I'll try a bit harder to put one of these things together more often. Maybe I won't wait for Calliope, the muse of writers, to sit on my shoulder and whisper the words I need to type as she has done in the past. On previous expeditions down blogging lane I've been known to just listen to her whispers, type and be totally amazed at what ends up on the screen. Perhaps more amazed than the few sorry souls that occasionally do read these words. I read them and wonder “where the heck did that come from?” I have always considered myself a bit of a shallow person, but there must be a few deeper spots here and there where interesting things can be dredged up from the depths and displayed in the sunlight.


So I promise to be a bit more prolific putting these things out if I can. Perhaps I could tell you about...? Or maybe...? Oh, I know! I'll tell ya about the time I...


See you soon.