Seeing the Past and Future Me

Anybody who has followed this blog for any time knows my basic theory on life is that everything is a pain in the ass (EIAPITA).  This was never more true than when I completely tore my achilles tendon two weeks ago playing tennis (in this case, the last A in the acronym becomes ankle, hey-o).  When it happened, it was very confusing and disorienting, as you can imagine it might be when you are convinced you took sniper fire to the leg.  I thought my doubles partner had hit me with his racket, although he was at least fifteen feet away.  Imagine your tendon being an electrically charged guitar string that is pulled 6 inches to the side and then released, allowing the electrical charge and vibration to course through your body while you try to figure out who the sadistic devil is that would do such a thing.  It was all three of those things.  Surprisingly, the pain only lasted about 3 hours, although the thought of the  immediate sensation I felt still makes me quiver from time to time.

The unexpected part of this experience is that it has allowed Nikki to see me both as a 5 year old and as a 75 year old in the span of two weeks, each persona intermingled with different experiences so that it becomes difficult to tell which one I am.  I suppose this  makes sense since it's been said we become child-like in our old age, sort of charming in the quaint and gregarious things we say, but ultimately dependent on others to get through our daily life.

I noticed the first chuckles from Nikki when I was hobbling around the house.  I didn't have the pre-surgery walking boot yet and the only way I could move was to lock the knee of my injured left leg so that it became rigid.  This becomes necessary when you don't have an achilles and you cant bend your foot up or down.  The net effect is that the injured stick becomes the equivalent of a pirate's wooden leg.

"Oh my god, I just saw my life at 75", Nikki said.  "You look like our neighbor Ken when you walk".  Ken is an 85 year old man with Alzheimer's and a bad back, who I've written about here before.  Because of these two conditions he hobbles panifully to the mailbox 10 times a day, including Sundays.  I'm guessing he doesn't remember how painful it was the last time he checked the mail ten minutes ago.  Even after I got the walking boot she continued to laugh at the site of me walking because I still had a pronounced limp for the next week.  Anyone who is or has been married has heard this from their wife at least once, "I can't imagine what it was like for your mom to take care of you".  For Nikki, this rhetorical question became a reality the minute I got home from surgery.

By the time I got home from the procedure, 14 hours had passed since my last meal.   I couldn't wait to eat and Nikki quickly cooked me up a grilled cheese sandwich.   I took a couple bites and these charming bits made a brief visit to my stomach, introduced themselves, then quickly hightailed it back out  of there and into the trash can.  I estimate their stay to be between 10-15 seconds.  Damn you anesthesia!  I'm pretty sure I could still taste the gas.  Now Nikki was seeing what it was like for my mom.  Surely I must have performed that very act hundreds of times for her in my childhood.

The next day Nikki came in the room said she was pretty sure she had stepped in a puddle in the bathroom.  In my narcotic induced situation, I'm not sure if I responded to her or only answered in my head "I'm not surprised".  I'd be surprised if I actually hit the toilet considering the delicate ballet required to perform this act while in a drug induced haze.  Not only was I dizzy, but my ankle felt like a 20 psi tire that had been inflated to 100 psi.  It can't bear any weight, so it has to be suspended slightly behind me, making me crane forward and have to use my left hand against the mirror for support.  I now have  only one hand available for the rest of the logistical details and my leg isn't getting any lighter.  Oh, and by the way, the urgency is only increasing.  Having never taken target practice in this fashion, the end results were quite predictable, about the same as a 5 year old with no directional control.  I don't think she had the heart to chastise me in my condition so she told me I'd do better next time.   Just as with a child in potty training, encouragement  for the effort is always the best tactic.  I was waiting to hear that I would receive candy the next time I hit the big boy potty.

After the first three days it became abundantly clear that I needed a shower.  By this time most of the latent pain had subsided, though it still hurt when I got up.  It's extremely difficult for me to accept the fact that I need physical help, so I waited until Nikki went to work to give a shower a try.  I bagged up the leg, put the chair in the shower and made the hop up the step and into our shower, whereupon my bare foot immediately slipped on the shower floor and both of my legs splayed forward into the wall.  Much like the scenario I described with the cows, the time-space continuum evaporated and everything sort of went  in to slow motion and I had an internal conversation while falling.   Here's the conversation:

Me to Myself:  Boy, Nikki is really going to be mad at you for this one, you should have waited for her help.  I know, but it didn't seem like that big of a deal.  Oh no,  I hope I don't break the shower door when my back hits it.  Ohh, that really was jarring when my buttocks just hit the tile, and that little ridge at the shower entrance doesn't feel good on my lower back.  Your splinted leg hit the wall pretty hard, do you think you tore the achilles again?  I don't think so, but my toes are numb from being jammed into the wall.  Can you get up?  Yes.  Ok, get in the seat and proceed as if nothing happened.  Ok.

Amazingly, the next morning this scenario repeated itself when I got up to go to the bathroom in the dark and I fell over again.  And I had virtually the same internal conversation on the way down.    When I fell I felt like a 75 year old man about to break his hip, but then I felt like a 5 year old when Nikki ran in and asked "What the hell is going on"? It was just like when I had slumber parties as a kid and we made too much noise.   I am happy to report, however that I was 95% accurate this time.

Nikki has been an absolute angel through this whole ordeal.  She has taken excellent care of me and I couldn't be more lucky to have somebody as patient as her in my life.  She has seen what my mom experienced, and she has seen what our future may hold and as far as I know, she plans on staying with me.  It can't be easy living with the proverbial bull in the china shop, but I hope in some way I make it fun.

Last night Nikki got me squared away in bed and shut the door to go sleep in peace in the other room.  I had to get up and grab my water bottle and I loudly banged a crutch against the dresser.  "What the hell is going on in there?", she yelled from the hallway.  I giggled like a 5 year old.

Documenting Human Stupidity

Click on This!!

This photo was taken for the sole purpose of documenting human stupidity.  There is no artistic value, but it is absolutely crucial to the story.  I was compelled to do a quick hand-held panorama shot because I was so bewildered by my fellow human being who inexplicably parked next to me.  Go ahead and click on it to make sure you understand the full picture of what I am about to describe.

Moments before this shot was taken I was parked completely alone in the back of this parking lot eating my lunch (mine is the pickup).  I chose this distant spot, as I often do, so that I could eat in peace and listen to the radio without being disturbed by others.  When I do this I might sit there for ten to twenty minutes and then I'll be on my way.  The weather was sunny and pleasant, mid 60's, with a slight breeze.  This type of weather is the best because it means I can sit in the car without having to run neither the air conditioner, nor the heat while I sit and eat.  On this occasion, my dad called so we were talking when the idiot unexpectedly pulled up and parked alongside me despite the fact that there were at least 100 spots available elsewhere in the parking lot.

Coincidentally, my dad and I engaged in a conversation a few weeks back regarding the propensity for people to park close by despite a plethora of open options, all of which would leave at least one space in between all parked cars.  His specific example involved an early morning scenario at the grocery store where there were 3 cars in the entire lot, yet somebody pulled up right next to him and parked.  He was situated at the front of the store which makes the chances of this happening more likely, but there were other equally as good parking options available at the time, none of which required parking next to his vehicle.  In spite of this fact, the person chose to park in the spot next to his.  Although I in no way condone the actions of that individual (it's reprehensible, in fact), I can at least understand the flawed logic.  After all, we're talking about being closer to the store.  My scenario, however, boggles the mind.

I've been searching for any line of logic to my situation, and I can't find any.  I can think of three potential reasons, yet none of them pass muster and I must conclude that the person was simply stupid.  There is no other possibility.

My first line of thought was that the person specifically sought out a shady spot and this was one of the few available.  I'm skeptical, though, because he/she quickly got out of the vehicle, yoga mat in hand, and presumably walked to the gym.  There were no dogs or children in the car that would require shade.  Plus, the weather was cool and a person could sit in an unshaded car for hours with no ill effects.   In addition, the interior of the vehicle would not be too hot upon his/her return.  Conclusion: Doesn't make sense.

Secondly, I thought this must be her customary spot.  I can imagine he/she might attend yoga often and chooses this spot often based on theory number 1.  Again, that might be valid in the summer, but even then only if there is a clear and open spot to be had.   As you can see, he/she could have left an open spot and still had some shade available to him/her (although, as we have established, shade was unnecessary on this day).   If the spot is taken, you move on, especially in a lot this size with this many open options.  Conclusion:  Inability to think and reason in real time.

Finally, I thought he/she must just be plain stupid.  I suppose I mean this in the "inability-to-navigate-social-rules-including-those-that-are-unwritten-but-clearly-set-in-stone" type of way.  Similar to Rain Man.  Why in the world would you park right next to me when so many other options are available?  Not only did he/she park directly next to mine for no reason, but look how it is also skewed within the parking space to the line closest to my vehicle.  Conclusion:  Yes, the person is stupid.

Folks, I'm begging you, as you go out in this world, please be aware of things around you.  Consider the environment you're in and analyze it, and do what is right.   Give me some hope that we may yet survive as a species despite these acts of wanton stupidity and egregious over-stepping of established social norms.  Some people are worried about global warming, and some are concerned with peace in the middle east, but I'm worried that if we can't solve something so simple as choosing the correct parking space we are ultimately doomed and need not waste our time with these other complex issues.

Pissed Off Cows

I received a huge dose of life-affirming adrenaline yesterday courtesy of 1,500 pounds of mobile beef.  For some unknown reason Betsy the ringleader, an enormous hunk of coal black cow, didn't like Bella and I within her confines and decided to expel us from her territory with utmost urgency and sense of purpose.   I don't know what the difference was yesterday -after all, I do this a lot- but the shot of adrenaline I received re-affirmed with an exclamation point that life is all about experiences, nothing else. No object, material possession, or money could give me the sensations I experienced in that brief 90 second encounter.

As I often do, I took Bella to the large open space in the hills near our house to let her run.  Local cattle ranchers have an agreement with the homeowners association, which owns the land, to allow cattle to graze freely in the area.  The cows keep the land "mowed" and reduce fire hazards, and the rancher gets free food for his cattle.  I typically avoid any open space when I can see the cows, not out of fear, but because it means there will be fresh piles of sludgy dung all around the area we want to walk.  Any dog owner knows these piles entice the animal the same way a raw piece of meat does.  Also, the fragrant smell of the dung is absolutely irresistible and triggers the instinctual crocodile death roll in the dog.  The theory is that it masks the scent of a dog on the hunt. If you haven't seen it, it's an aggressive and urgent roll in the dung, starting from the neck on one side and moving down the back and then over to the other side, then repeated multiple times until you run screaming like an idiot and can physically reach your dog and make them move.   Typically the dog leaves the scene with a gigantic smile and sense of accomplishment while you mumble to yourself about having to give the dog another god**mn bath.    I recently took Bella to the veterinarian to have poop removed from her ear canal due to a particularly aggressive roll.   As you can see, there are multiple good reasons to avoid the cows.  Now I was about to have another one.

I couldn't see any cows when we first approached the gate, so I let Bella crawl under and I jumped the chest high post.  I took quick inventory and couldn't see any fresh piles, so we proceeded.   These first few minutes of freedom seem to be heaven for Bella.  She trots around the area with her nose to the ground like a vacuum, taking in the thousands of scents that are available to her.   She's 12 now so her movements are a bit slower, but she is never happier than in these moments.  Inevitably she creates her own fresh pile, nose twitching and smelling the air, reading the situation and scanning the environment.  From what I can tell, this moment is the highlight of her day:  Pooping in an open field with unlimited sensory stimuli tickling her nose.  We soon reach the crest of the hill and that's when I saw the herd of 20, and Betsy's ears immediately perked up.

As soon as I saw Betsy, I casually called Bella and started walking the other direction.  Bella had assumed the alert wolf stalking posture, but I knew it was an act.  I've tried to bring her close to the cows by the fence and she doesn't want any part of it.  She eventually turned towards me and we started walking in the opposite direction.   And the cows began to walk with us in the same direction.   I wasn't too alarmed, after all cows are curious by nature and I had seen them do this before.  Typically they will escort you in the other direction, making sure they can see you at all times and will stop at the top of the hill and watch until you leave.  I'm sure I could have done something differently at this crucial point, but let's discuss this snapshot in time just a little bit.

I am 100% suburbanite and large farm animals tend put a scare in me regardless of their alleged docile nature.  I was currently being approached by 20 such animals.   My research suggests that perhaps I should have acted like "the boss" and shooed them away with a large stick (maybe tapped Betsy the ringleader on the snout), or opened an umbrella to startle them.   Alas, it was 70 degrees and sunny so my umbrella was in the garage and thus, useless to me in this circumstance.  I am also not in the habit of carrying a walking stick like a shepherd when I go out with Bella, although I may change my stance on this.  Like her owner, Bella is also 100% suburbanite.  She doesn't possess the craftiness of a border collie, which will toy with cows and bulls all day long.  I've observed it myself, and it is something to behold.   Large, hoofed animals with great mass also tend to frighten Bella so we didn't have any other inkling other than to extricate ourselves from this situation.  To put it in evolutionary terms, we clearly chose the "flight" response over the "fight" response.

Because the cows are so prevalent in the area it's easy to watch them from a distance and I commonly see them running down the hills.  I always look for coyotes - which are also common - or a mountain lion - which are rumored to be in the hills-but have never seen either in pursuit.  Nonetheless, it's surprising the speed with which they come careening down the hills after each other.   I didn't study much in college, but I remember this:  F=m(a)  force=mass x acceleration.  The bulk of the animal running down a 15% decline must create amazing force and I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it.  Yet, here I was in that exact position.

I fully expected the group to stop at the crest of the hill and watch us leave, but Betsy started trotting, which energized the herd.  "You're the boss, you're the boss" I told myself in my head.  I didn't buy it.  Here they come.  Son of a...."BELLA RUN, LET'S GO!!!!!!!!!!!  Bella can't move like she used to and Betsy was closing in.  I watched in horror as my sweet Bella was about to be crushed.  Valiantly, she turned and snapped, which surprised and distracted Betsy for a moment.  Betsy regrouped and re-engaged Bella, both running down the hill directly at me.

As I watched this scene unfold, I was actually thinking I wish I had my camera with me because the scene would have made an incredible photo.  The behemoth Betsy was directly behind Bella, head to ground, nearly touching her butt, and they were headed directly at me.  I would have used my 70-200 lens to completely fill the frame with Bella at the bottom and the big black blob with crazy eyes in pursuit.  I was actually lamenting the loss of opportunity.   It's Funny that in such a moment of abject terror the brain can calmly carry on a conversation in a parallel universe at the same time.

I fully expected Betsy to lift Bella with her nose and flip her, opening up the possibility for a mauling with her hooves.  I took a quick inventory and the gate opening was at least 300 yards away, not a possibility.  I looked to my left and the fence was right there, but it was chest high.   Mercifully Betsy didn't flip Bella and we jumped across a concrete v-ditch drainage channel certain that cows won't cross  that type of thing.  It turns out they will.

Bella and I both made it across the ditch, and Betsy crossed as well.  As I reflect on this, I'm not certain why Betsy didn't pursue us and push us up against the fence.  I know she crossed the ditch, which was was only about 10 feet from the fence, but she didn't crush me.  In a huge panic I lifted Bella over the top of the fence and dropped her on the other side.  The hair on her back was raised like a mohawk and her tail was squarely between her legs.  I quickly jumped the fence and realized we had escaped the full wrath of Betsy.

Immediately my legs felt weak as the adrenaline began to leave my body.  I began to chuckle, out of nervousness and amusement at the same time.  I began the process of assessing the situation in my mind and two things immediately became clear:  1. I'm so thankful neither Bella nor I was hurt.  2.  What a great story, I can't wait to tell people about this.  And so it is with experiences.  Unlike money or possessions, experiences never go away, they are always there for the re-telling and psychologists say experiences without a doubt are what bring us happiness.   I believe it.  This didn't cost me anything and in an odd way I feel euphoric about it.   Adrenaline is good for the soul and this shot of it has my soul soaring.  By the way, Betsy, I can't wait to see you on my grill.  I know Bella and I will have a laugh about it.