Well, that may be a bit deceptive. I call them Short walls, because I have been working on a Long Wall, exploring the unexpected existential tension between the first tenet of Distilled Harmony: Foster Harmony and the fourth tenet, Oppose Harm, that is threatening to become a book.
Anyhow both these short walls got their starts in the Wayback machine. They are “short” in that they could both be summarized with “been there, done that.” But that would hardly be fair, so I’ll, naturally, give you the long version of each.
Short Wall #1 - or Pills, Pills everywhere.
This Wall got its start not too long after Christine and I were married in December of 2006. I had been bothered by back pain for awhile and been seeing a chiropractor - which wasn’t doing much good. Christine suggested that I see a real doctor.
My doctor of many years had recently retired so I went off to see the doc who had taken over his practice - a fresh-faced young lad who looked like Doogie Houser’s younger brother. He ran some tests, correctly diagnosed multiple myeloma, and, less correctly, said “get your affairs in order, you’ve got about six months.” He was very sorry, actually wept a bit.
I’m not sure which particular flight of angels brought us to Dr. W’s door for a second opinion, but obviously the outcome was far preferable to Doogie’s initial assessment. But there was a fly hidden in the otherwise delightful ointment. As some of you may know one of MM’s presenting symptoms is pain, rather significant back pain.
We had to fight with Blue Cross, Blue Shield before they would approve a kytoplasty to repair the damage that MM had done to my back - the chemo had killed off a swathe of small tumors, leaving me with a kind of Swiss cheese bone structure at the site. The Blues were apparently stuck on the preconceived notion that kytoplasty was a treatment for women with osteoporosis. While they vacillated my back pain continued to get worse. That was went the fly crept into the ointment: OxyContin.
Now remember this was almost 20 years ago and the world was rather unaware of the addictive potential of this amazingly effective analgesic. So you really shouldn’t be all that surprised to learn that I blithely, and regularly ingested various amounts of the opioid over the next 20 years - until about seven weeks ago.
For probably the last decade a number of my doctors suggested that I get off the opioid. I really saw no reason to. In my mind it simply maintained normalcy. Yeah, I could tell when I missed a dose, just felt a bit off, but it was never more than a few hours until the next pill, so no big deal, right?
But it was becoming inconvenient. After retiring, spontaneous travel became a more common opportunity, and it was just an additional hassle to figure out how to maintain contact with my oxy. So when I, much to the delight of Christine, suggested to my current doc that I was ready to follow his advice to taper off, he was delighted to set up a plan. Five week gradual taper. Finished a couple of weeks ago. Not much of a hassle, but again a fly lurked in the ointment.
Think about it. For 20 years I constantly had this “feel good” drug circulating around inside. Not surprisingly, when you remove that from a 75-year old dude some things it had been masking pop up and say hello. For me; diabetes, neuropathy, insomnia, and a strange desire to root for Carolina - just kidding about that last one, Go Wolfpack!
But, as irksome as those maladies are, they are all far more manageable than trying to schedule drug mules to follow me to Europe. So I’ll keep on keeping on.
Short Wall #2 - or Hermit Crabs do it Better.
It is easy to pinpoint this one as it started as darkly as it gets. On June 12 of last year, or maybe the tenth or the 11th, which would be closer to the date when our dear friend Smitty sustained the injuries in a fall which led to his death.
Our unique short wall began with the provision in his will that Christine and I were granted lifetime occupancy to the home we had shared with him during our numerous and lengthy visits.
The obvious good news on this wall is that we had a sweet residence in a lovely neighborhood close to the family Christine had been missing during our lengthy stay in Raleigh. The dark part of the wall grew at the other end of the event - moving our worldly possessions up from the South to a state only once removed from Canada.
The move is a continuing disaster as we discover more cracks, chips and breaks of outrageous misfortune, resulting from our movers seeming inability to read things like “fragile”and “Do Not Stack” and the related ability to completely overlook entire cabinets of dishes. (Tangential good news - the lifetime occupancy clause means we will never have to move again!)
For reasons mysterious to all concerned, the North Carolina house sat idle for nine months, leaving us racking up almost 20k in expenses for a vacant home, and much more than that in stress and anxiety.
We finally left the chaos of the move at this end and made a run back down to Raleigh to see a 90+ dear artist friend - ended up sleeping in his studio - and to interview realtors to get the house moving. Hooked up with the realtor who sold Christine’s sister’s house when they moved to Wisconsin.
She and Dave, her “ace handyman” swiftly put the house in order for an open house the first week in March. It sold at the open house for 20K above asking! And the check is in the bank!
New car to replace our ancient Yaris and a European Christmas River Cruise currently top our wish list!
The Patio.
I have no idea why I call this event a patio. Maybe because you sit out on your patio to look around. But, more likely I just liked the way it completed the metaphor.
Anyhow, Christine had eyelid surgery a couple of days ago. My sister Margaret tells me it is a rather common procedure that some of her friends have had done. What happens is the eyelids droop down and begin to obscure vision. So the surgery is kind of an eyelid lift.
Christine is doing fine, but the post op is quite uncomfortable requiring many drops, ointments, ice water gauze patches etc., etc. Let me simply say that my admiration for the healthcare workers on the end of the “nurse call” button has skyrocketed - since I am now that guy!
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